The October Horse (Masters of Rome #6) by Colleen McCullough

The October Horse (Masters of Rome #6) Reviews

• 
  Ahmad Sharabiani

  The October Horse: A Novel of Caesar and Cleopatra (Masters of Rome, #6), Colleen McCullough
  The October Horse is the sixth novel in Colleen McCullough's Masters of Rome series.
  The book begins with Gaius Julius Caesar's Egyptian campaign in Alexandria, his final battles with the Republicans led by Metellus Scipio, Cato the Younger, Titus Labienus and the brothers Pompeius in Africa and Spain, and ultimately Caesar's assassination on the Ides of March by Marcus Brutus, Gaius Cassius and the Liberators. The latter stages of The October Horse chronicle the death of Cicero, the emergence of Octavian and his battles with Mark Antony, and conclude with the Battle of Philippi.
  تاریخ نخستین خوانش: بیست و دوم ماه سپتامبر سال 2013 میلادی
  عنوان: کلئوپاترا و سزار؛ اثر: کالین مک کلو؛ مترجم: هادی عادلپور؛ مشخصات نشر: تهران، سمیر، 1392، شابک دوره: 9789642201921؛ شابک جلد نخست: 9789642201907؛ شابک جلد دوم: 9789642201914؛ موضوع: داستانهای تاریخی از نویسندگان استرالیایی، قرن 20 م
  ا. شربیانی
• 
  Raffaello

  Sarò sempre grato alla McCullough per la serie I signori di Roma, perché mi ha dato la possibilità di conoscere approfonditamente gli ultimi 100 anni della Res Publica romana senza sentirne assolutamente il peso, anzi, amando ogni singola pagina letta. Il ciclo Masters of Rome resterà tra le esperienze più belle della mia storia di lettore.
• 
  Gumble's Yard - Golden Reviewer

  Sixth and last in the (original) “Masters of Rome” series.
  
  The book starts in Egypt – with Caesar’s embroilment in the Egyptian civil war and his relationship with Cleopatra and thereafter switches to Rome for the events of Caesar’s dictatorship including the wars against the Republicans in Africa and then Spain. In a rare piece of sympathy for the Boni and especially Cato (who McCullough clearly regards as responsible for destroying through his intransigence the very Republic he claimed to be preserving) she covers in detail a little known march he led of around 10,000 wounded troops to join the Republican army in Africa.
  
  Caesar’s assassination is covered around 2/3rds of the way through the book and the section that follows is as confused as the actual period following the death with various armies on the move (alluded to in the title of one section) and with loyalties and factions shifting. Eventually things coalesce into two uneasy factions – the Second Triumvirate (led by Antony – the boorish man of action but still basically a Republican and Octavian – see below) and the Liberators (led by the increasingly confident Cassius and the man of Philosophy Brutus). This culminates in the two battles of Philippi (this section of the book is called “Everything by Halves” and paints both sides as hopelessly divided between their main leaders) the first ending in the mistaken suicide of Cassius (believing his side lost and unaware of the near victory won by Brutus’s men) and the second in slaughter of Brutus’s army and his own suicide. The book ends with Brutus’s head being demanded by an increasingly compelling and cold-blooded Octavian from a reluctant but overawed Antony so he can send it to the Rostra in Rome but the head being thrown overboard from the ship carrying it as the sailors believe it a curse.
  
  Throughout the book McCullough paints the most favourable possible picture of Caesar in two key areas – his control of events (e.g. Egypt is portrayed as completely under his control and foresight, whereas all non-fiction accounts aqree that his involvement was unwitting, that he was caught by surprise by the Alexandrian hostility to his soldiers and that he fought a desparate and clumsy struggle for survival) and in his genuine good intentions (any historical incidents traditionally taken as describing his increasing megalomania are spun or explained away – eg his wearing of the traditional long red boots of the Alban Kings was to cure varicose veins whereas the attempts to make him a King or God were deliberate acts by Mark Antony as part of his attempts to surreptitiously legitimise the Liberators cause.
  
  The other interesting aspect of the book it its portrayal of the rise of Octavian against all the odds of his health, appearance, age and lack of standing but trading on the deification of Caesar by the ordinary Romans, the devotion of Caesar’s soldiers and on his own sheer cold-minded determination and resolution to seize the destiny that his Great-Uncle laid out for him by making him his heir. The book portrays well also his complete lack of clemency for his and Caesar’s enemies (in contrast to his Great-Uncle) with even by the time of the Battles of Philippi the Liberators keener to surrender to the hot-blooded and militant Antony (who on a number of occasions led his soldiers to slaughter protestors in the Forum) than the cold-blooded weakling Octavian.
  
  Overall a brilliant series of books – methodically researched but with the novelist licence allowing McCullough to explore the motivations of the main actors in these historical events and in the death of the Republic (which she paints as being finalised with the death of Caesar’s main assassins and Octavian’s rise to prominence)
  
• 
  Sud666

  This is supposedly the last of the Masters of Rome books. In essence, with the battle of Philippi ending in 42 BC, this covers the fall of the old Roman Republic.
  
  The start of the book covers the attempts to assassinate Julius Caesar begin to take root. Caesar's clemency and desire to bring Rome back to the old ways is doomed to failure. The ruling class is unwilling and incapable of meeting Caesar's vision. In order to protect their own varied powers and privileges, they decide to form a vast conspiracy to kill Caesar.
  
  McCullough does a great job of explaining WHY Caesar was trying to do. It is likely that once Julius was done "fixing" the Republic, he would have retired (much like Sulla) with a restoration of the Republic with "updated" laws factoring in that Rome was now an Empire.
  
  She also does a great job of explaining the other side of the argument from Cato and Cicero, to Marc Antony and Brutus. The act and the resulting fallout is also very well explained. I enjoyed this volume since it has much to do with the rise of Octavian. He is able to see that the Republic Julius wished over is effectively over. There must be a new way of doing things.
  
  Octavian's reptilian mind is set on not only destroying all of Caesar's enemies but also securing for himself ultimate power. I thought it odd to finish the story with Antony not yet in Egypt since the final bell for the Republic had not yet tolled. I find that there is another volume after this called "Antony and Cleopatra", which I assume will finish out the story.
  
  I do not know whether McCullough "jumped the gun" with declaring this the final volume and then later finishing the series with the aforementioned sequel, but the abrupt ending of a story that is not fully finished is mildly irritating.
  
  However, this is a superb story. With the death of Caesar and the rise of a new Caesar, the transition from Republic to Empire has begun. As I have purchased the "final" final book, I shall read and finish it soon. I highly recommend this entire series. If you are not terribly knowledgeable about the fall of the Republic, you can mend your ignorance with this entertaining historical fiction series. I loved every minute of it and would recommend this to anyone with an interest for this period.
• 
  Deborah Pickstone

  Caesar has dominated most of this series. His death way before the end of this volume would have seemed a disaster if it weren't for the story racing onward with such vigour that I was fast caught up in the aftermath. My only real sadness is that there is only one more volume to go. Ms McCullough had intended to end here but was apparently chivvied by her readers to go on with the story of
  Antony and Cleopatra.
  
  I found her theories, especially the medical ones, most interesting and pretty compelling. The whole series with its convoluted politicking and power plays has been riveting.
  
  That game of a book to take with you to a desert island? I think I would take this series. There's a lot of meat in it to make me think.
• 
  Campbell

  Not quite as good as the rest of the series, yet still excellent.
• 
  A. L.

  My poor Caesar. Obviously, you knew it was coming but it was still gut-wrenching, nonetheless. McCullough’s twist is that Antony is not Caesar’s right hand man, but is fully aware of the assassination attempt and in support of it, thinking he will inherit. I started researching that, and apparently, McCullough isn’t alone in her supposition.
  
  That’s one thing I love about this entire series: McCullough jam packs so much information and ideas that every few pages, I’m inclined to stop and look stuff up. It’s like a history course on the end of the Roman Republic. It’s fascinating. And the ideas she’s given me to think about! Wanting people to do the right thing, and behave the right way, for governments to operate correctly and can that ever be legislated? Can morality ever be impacted through legal means? Her Caesar basically wants to save the world through right, proper behavior. But too many others don’t. They want to serve themselves. Can that ever be accomplished? It’s given me a lot to ponder on long car rides.
  
  There’s one final book, a kind of add-on, written at the bequest of the fans, but this was the true culmination of the Masters of Rome series and what a way to go!
• 
  Pedro

  Finalmente, acabei o livro!!!
  2 meses para acabar este calhamaço. Poderia ter sido menos, mas o tempo livre tornou-se mais escasso.
  Livros de mil páginas há muitos. Mas livros de mil páginas tão densos quanto os da saga do Primeiro Homem de Roma, não. Colleen McCullough oferece-nos não uma grande lição de História mas sim uma tese incrivelmente detalhada dos últimos anos da República Romana. Chegar a este quase-último romance é como um sonho concretizado (McCullough acabou por ceder aos pedidos dos fãs e escreveu mais um livro na série).
  “O Cavalo de Outubro” cumpre, como seria de esperar, o seu papel como um dos romances historicamente mais correctos e atentos que é possível encontrar e um enorme entretenimento. Aliás, apesar da minha falta de tempo para leituras, foi-me muitas vezes difícil largar o livro e, se não me tivesse agarrado dessa forma, teria sido impossível terminá-lo ainda este ano.
  
  Já não tenho muitas palavras para além da minha profunda lealdade a esta série histórica. Todos os livros históricos deviam ser assim, todos.
  
  É certo que alguns defeitos foram mais evidentes aqui, mais do que em livros anteriores.
  Por exemplo, Júlio César: McCullough obviamente sonhou todas as noites com este homem, porque não há um único defeito nele. Apesar de todos os seus feitos serem reais, custa a crer que alguém neste mundo seja tão incrivelmente perfeito. Mesmo assim, apesar das qualidades exageradas, reconheço que vê-lo triunfar é o que em parte torna a leitura tão exaltante (e é o que torna a sua morte tão emocionante).
  Gaio Octávio, herdeiro de César (e futuro primeiro Imperador) parece seguir as mesmas pisadas do pai, com uma exaltação exagerada do seu carácter. Colleen McCullough tem, obviamente, alguma dificuldade em não se embasbacar pelos seus protagonistas, e o cansaço é tão óbvio que decide tornar Octávio uma mera cópia do seu adorado César. Apenas nas ��ltimas páginas surge um Octávio diferente, mais ele próprio, mas não o suficiente.
  Aliás, depois da morte de César, torna-se óbvio um certo... Não quero chamar desinteresse, mas talvez dificuldade em manter o balanço entre romance e História. O livro torna-se pouco mais do que uma dissertação sobre as consequências da morte do grande homem e termina com a vingança do seu herdeiro concretizada, e as sementes do Império.
  
  Enfim, não obstante, tenho mesmo pena de chegar ao fim. Se fosse para uma ilha, seria esta série que levaria comigo.
• 
  Alina

  “The October Horse” is an engaging read filled with Roman politics, warfare, treason and plotting (against Julius Caesar). Though it’s part of a series, I highly enjoyed it as it was and it’s remarkable how Collen McCullough made Ancient Rome and the famous city of Alexandria come back to life.
  If you love Ancient history, give this book or the entire series a try. I will definitely read more of it.
• 
  LemonLinda

  McCullough is a masterful storyteller and her love and mastery of Roman history shines brightly in her Roman fiction. This book in her Masters of Rome series gives us the story of Julius Caesar in his prime, the beginnings of discontent within a faction of the Patricians in Rome, the plot and execution thereof to kill him, the rivalry between Octavius and Mark Anthony following his death and the ultimate rise of Octavian, who would eventually become known as Augustus Caesar, Julius Caesar's legitimate heir.
  
  I learned so much about Roman politics with this book. I also learned the fate of the "liberators", those who had hatched the plot to kill Caesar.
  
  The love betwee Cleopatra and Julius Caesar was a bit cold and calculating for my taste, but possibly that was the way it was in real life.
  
  Just as the Romans sacrificed a winning race horse each October, the great Caesar who was so successful as Roman dictator and worshipped after death as a god was sacrificed by his so-called friends and countrymen thus the title of the book.
• 
  James

  Romans, despite their claim to civilization, had their own weird superstitions and rituals. The October Horse was the off-horse (or the one who ran on the outside track and thus had to run faster) of the winning chariot team from the annual Ides of October race. This horse---arguably the best horse in Rome in the prime of its life---was ritually sacrificed to Jupiter Optimus Maximus at the end of the race, and its head became a prize during the public scramble after the killing.
  
  This was the title chosen by Colleen McCullough’s for the final book of her brilliant Masters of Rome series. The series chronicles the fall of the Roman Republic from the advent of the General Gaius Marius to the Dictatorship of Cornelius Sulla and then the life and death of Julius Caesar. Like the previous books in the series, the events in the books closely track general historical reconstructions of the records of this time. The details and characters are fleshed out from the imagination of the author and the narratives are changed to a more gossipy reader-friendly style.
  
  Plot Details
  Caesar, in this book, visits Egypt in pursuit of the “boni” the group of trouble making senators behind his rival Pompeii. While arbitrating the Egyptian succession dispute, he falls in love---in a manner of speaking---with Cleopatra. After dallying in Egypt and Africa ostensibly for rounding up the final remnants of the boni, Caesar returns to Rome as dictator for life.
  During a visit to Rome by Cleopatra, a cabal of jealous Senators murders Caesar in the Senate forum. But in a surprise move, Caesar adopts nephew Octavian as his son and heir instead of Marcus Antonius (or more popularly Mark Anthony), setting off a new round of civil intrigues, including the forming of the Second Triumvirate (Antonius, Octavius, and Lepidus) against the murderers. The book finishes with the defeat of Cassius and Brutus, Octavian perched on the verge of power (despite his cowardice in battle), opposed by a martial brutish Marcus Antonius (with no hint yet of a romance with Cleopatra).
  
  In the course of 700 pages (in the hard cover edition), indeed over the course of 6 books of 700 pages each, McCollough has brought to life the petty jealousies, power struggles, ideals, superstitions, crises, and frustrations of life at the end of the Roman Republic: At a period in history just as the Roman culture started to struggle with the problems related to the beginning of the Empire.
  
  The Review
  This novel could have just as easily been titled “Caesar and Cleopatra” or “The Ides of March” if the author intended to end her series at the end of Caesar’s life. But this novel is actually about Octavian (later Octavius Caesar Augustus) since Julius Caesar dies half way into the book. But of the four main protagonists in the series, I seemed to like Octavius the least. Probably because, while undoubtedly politically brilliant (consul at 21!), he did not really have any hurdles to overcome on his rise to the top. (Incidentally, Octavian is a more casual way of refer to Octavius, like Johnny to John. In the book, Antonius also refers to his rival as Octavianus, which both mocks his rival’s name’s ending and reinforces Antonius’s view of him as a minor).
  
  From amongst the huge diversity of threads running through the previous five novels, a consistent theme seems to be the rags to riches rise of its main characters: Marius had to overcome his “hayseed” image to become Patrician, Sulla had to overcome poverty and psychopathic tendencies, Caesar had to overcome poverty, wars, and political structures---such as his relegation to flamens dialis---erected by jealous enemies. While history records that Octavius would overcome his share of political enemies and win a few wars of his own on his way to founding the Empire, these stories are not contained in this book.
  
  The physician McCullough gives Octavius asthma (not confirmed in the historical record) to probably enhance his character with something to overcome and perhaps also to explain his cowardice in battle. But this weakness fails to accomplish what McCollough did so brilliantly with her three previous characters: that is, to give a glimpse of the character’s steel inner core, to distinguish these men so as to validate their rise to power.
  
  In Octavian’s case, we have ambition, an ability to pick out good men (we are tantalized by his partnership with Agrippa), astute political insight, and skill with negotiations (witness the way he set up the Triumvirate). But this doesn’t make him great so that the core we see is more marble than steel. And it’s not just because historical events give the author little to work with, in building up Marius she worked with even less. In this sense, Octavian is the least satisfying “hero” that this series has portrayed up to this point.
  
  Critics have derided McCollough’s style as historical soap opera---like it was a bad thing. Actually, the soap operatic sequencing of well known historical events (such as the union of Caesar and Cleopatra) coupled with thoroughly researched speculation (on such topics as Marc Anthony’s role in the assassination) lend realism to the novel. It is soap opera in a very Frank Herbert’s Dune kind of way.
  
  I applaud this kind of historical story telling because the realism brings Ancient Roman history to life far more convincingly than dry historical commentary from Plutarch or Suetonius, or even modern accessible writers like Michael Grant.
  
  For example, she describes how Caesar’s murderer’s fled to the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus in panic, and then how the common people set up a shrine to deify Julius Caesar, and how a comet showed itself during the games held in his honor. And then she links all these events together into a continuous sequence showing the love that Rome felt for its dictator, and how Octavius rode these sentiments as the divi filius to power. This works for me way better than studying the classics at school.
  
  McCollough does not claim that her version of history is the only correct take. She even provides contact information at the end of the book for readers who want to refer to her bibliography. But it was by reading this series that I developed an interest in Classical Rome. I know that I am not the only reader that got hooked this way.
  
  McCollough’s strength is the way that she portrays the personal motivations behind the events, and then spikes it full of titillating details.
  
  For example, anyone who’s read or watched Shakespeare remembers Marc Anthony’s defense of Caesar speech (you know, “Friends, Romans, Countrymen: Lend me your ears!”). But McCollough has imagined a historically more controversial story by adding Anthony as a willing accomplice to the murders. Anthony had fallen out of Caesar’s grace and needed money to fund his lavish lifestyle. Believing that he was Caesar’s heir, he quietly assented to the murder so that he could get his hands on the money.
  
  As another example, Caesar fathered a son---Caeserian (yes, as in the procedure)---by Cleopatra. But McCollough spices up the romance by describing how Caesar withheld his orgasm from Cleopatra so that she would not give birth to Caesarian’s sister and then marry them together.
  Incidentally, Marcus Antonius and Cleopatra do not come out particularly well in this novel. Anthony is a brutal despot with delusions of oriental grandeur. Instead of Richard Burton, think Herman Goering. Cleopatra is a flawed beauty weedy wisp of a girl barely out of her teens. Instead of Elizabeth Taylor, think Kate Moss with Barbra Streisand’s nose.
  
  This series started five books and twelve years ago with the First Man in Rome in October, 1990. This sixth book is separated from the fifth by almost 5 years. Having set the new standard for historical novel writing in the previous books, this is probably the weakest book in the series: Octavian is not that likeable, the affair with Cleopatra is not fully explored, the battle descriptions are more cursory, and the politics have lost their multi-dimensional texture (this last gripe is historical and not the fault of the author). Still, this book is still far far better than any pure historical novel printed in the last couple of years.
  
  From what I’ve read in interviews with the author, this series was always meant to end at five books. But she had had so much fun in the writing that she could not manage to end her 3,500th page with the death of Caesar. So she needed this book. And so introduced us to Octavian. Perhaps this means that there is hope that she will continue this series with a seventh book!
  
  Loyal readers of this series will need no encouragement to buy this book. New readers can start the series with this book, because with introduction of so many new characters, very little of this story requires reference to what happened in prior books. Buy this if you like historical novels or if you like talkative narrative stories. This book will keep you engaged on a plane ride back and forth across the Pacific.
  
  
• 
  Ozymandias

  Story: 10 (Every important event in a focused narrative)
  Characters: 9 (Hail Caesars. Nay Antony)
  Accuracy: 10 (Basically perfect even if I sometimes disagree)
  
  The book starts with an awkward “Previously on Masters of Rome...” moment when Caesar, exhausted on the road from Tarsus to Alexandria, decides to go through all the events of the previous book to remind us all of what happened and where everyone is. It’s a poor start to a book that, unlike the previous volumes, picks up right where the last one ended. It would have been better if this had been relegated to an optional prologue. Fortunately, things do quickly pick up. It’s even a bit rushed at times. The book frequently gets ahead of itself and begins to feature characters responding to facts that aren’t detailed until future chapters. The divide between East and West is strong.
  
  This book, for all its similar length, has a lot more going on than its predecessors. The book is divided into fourteen parts and each part is brimming with significance. We get Caesar in Alexandria, Cato’s march to Utica, Caesar in Pontus (veni vidi vici), Caesar and Antony in Rome, the African War, Caesar back in Rome, the Spanish War, the assassination, Octavian’s inheritance, Antony’s civil war, the formation of the second triumvirate, the Liberators acquiring provinces, the Liberators raising an army, and the battle of Philippi. As you can see, there’s enough here to fill two books easy. In fact, given that this book is half again as long as some of the other ones, I don’t quite see why she didn’t. Having the death of Caesar happen a little more than halfway through the novel and then handing the story over to a cast of new and minor characters seems an odd way of doing it. It’s rather like she did with Sulla in
  Fortune’s Favorites, only here Caesar dominates the whole first half and by his death we’ve seen the climax of every other plot.
  
  To be honest, I was glad when Caesar died. I’ve gotten more than a little tired of her awestruck worship of him, or at least his abilities. Not a chapter can go by in the lives of his enemies without an authorial reminder that they just aren’t as good as he is. Or they can’t see as well as he does. At least with young Octavian such hero worship makes sense. To see it in Cicero and Cato is frustrating.
  
  And his death means the rise of wunderkid Octavian, which is always fascinating. I think he was Caesar’s better honestly, though McCullough keeps reminding us of his limitations compared to the great man. And if we’re talking versatility sure, Caesar was skilled in a much wider range of areas (Octavian was no general for a start), but if you look at what Octavian could do well there’s no comparison. He was a political and administrative genius. He started off with a weak hand (just a name in a will) and managed to play it so craftily that he was co-ruling Rome within two years and sole ruler a decade later. I can’t see Caesar pulling that off, and even if he could have he lacked Octavian’s ability to be all things to all people. Caesar made enemies though his highhandedness, while Octavian managed to rule as an even more uncontested autocrat while still seeming humble and acceptable. And better still he was able to surround himself with loyal and capable subordinates who both complemented and enhanced his considerable abilities.
  
  I’m less fond of Antony. After what I thought was a good piece of development in the last book which saw him move from hopeless hedonist to hopeless hedonist who could turn off his hedonism when he needed to, this book saw him go back a step. Antony’s lost favor with Caesar and only his close familial ties with Caesar have kept him in his inner circle. But the part I really object to is that Antony is depicted attempting to murder Caesar and is aware of the successful conspiracy. This seems to be doing an injustice to the sources. While I find the idea that Antony’s amnesty was sincere and he wasn’t secretly plotting the destruction of the conspirators (which all the sources claim, potentially in hindsight) interesting, I have a hard time believing that he was actively involved in assassinations himself. That seems like a line that Caesar would not have tolerated him crossing. Similarly, the idea that Antony wanted some sort of restoration of the Republic (albeit with him in Caesar’s place as its head citizen) but was forced by Octavian’s intense desire for revenge into a civil war that destroyed all possibility of future democratic competition seems a bit much. It seems all too close to the useless drunken wretch of the Philippics and doesn’t leave him much room for any type of forethought.
  
  I’m rather fond of Cato. He’s an easy man to admire and a hard man to love, but McCullough has found a way into his miserable, tormented soul. I’ve felt before that she can be too harsh on him (of which Cato would approve), particularly in her comments on his inadequacies and failings compared to Caesar. But here he finally gets a chance to shine as only Cato can. Not the suicide bit, but the intense dedication to duty and Republican values. Organizing a march of 10,000 men across the African desert is not something to be taken lightly, and as Cato never takes anything lightly he’s the perfect man for the job. It helps that he’s paired up with Sextus Pompeius, who should have a much bigger part to play in
  Antony and Cleopatra, but is currently just a cheerful sprog following adoringly alongside the man who holds the fate of the Republic.
  
  Honestly, all Caesar’s opponents are a pretty ineffectual bunch. The “Liberators” are even less impressive than the Republicans. There’s very little noble about Brutus. He acts through no selfish motive, aye, but assassinating Caesar is more an intellectual exercise for him than any sort of grand quest. What does one do to tyrants? Kills them. Caesar is a tyrant. Therefore Caesar must die. QED. While it was nice to see him come into himself a bit more in Macedonia, he still remains that hopelessly unrealistic man. Cassius is even more odd. He has no reason to oppose Caesar beyond the desire to achieve success on his own abilities rather than being granted it through an autocrat. Yet while this motive was treated as noble when it was Caesar, it’s ignoble when coming from Cassius. Because he’s not good enough I suppose. I don’t entirely disagree of course, though I suspect she’s overstating Brutus’ moneylending ties and understating his determination, but it seems to tie in again to the worship of genius over mediocrity that irritated me in the last books.
  
  A better aspect is the way she shows the unsustainability of civil war and reminds us of the failings of the Republic. Both sides have severe cashflow problems since their armies are absurdly expensive and everyone’s bidding against everyone else. The triumvirate solve this the Sullan way: through proscriptions of everyone who opposes them and a few who just have too much money to live. The Republicans solve this the even more traditional way: by raping and pillaging their own provinces. It was sickening to see Cassius and Brutus going from town to town and slaughtering people for nothing but their wealth. A pleasant reminder that for all the talk of liberties within Rome itself, Republican governors are nothing more than bloodsucking leaches. This has been commented on before, but we’ve rarely seen it done so ruthlessly. It’s not a surprise that most people outside Rome rejoiced at the creation of the Empire since this meant better treatment for their cities under closely monitored imperially-appointed governors. And with both sides now so radicalized and cruel the days of Caesar start to look positively idyllic. The constant round of civil wars need to end. At any cost.
  
  This book represents the true end of the Republic. We saw a similar circumstances in
  Fortune’s Favorites, but Sulla at least left behind a functional (if shrunken) Senate and a coherent faction in charge. After Caesar where are people supposed to turn? The Liberators? Not really a faction, just assassins. Caesar’s men? Does that mean the potentially disloyal Antony, the unknown and inexperienced Octavian, Plancus, Lepidus, Dolabella, or the host of other minor generals pulling in every direction? The Senate? With what army? There’s nobody of sufficient clout to keep the whole thing running. And who’s going to keep the armies under control? With the ultraconservatives dead and all sides fighting for superiority using unconstitutional means, there’s nobody left to stand up for the Republic.
• 
  Marjolein

  Even though these books are enormous, I still really enjoy reading them. This was a part of history tha was slightly more familiar, but not in this much detail and richness as it's described here. I would love to read more, but I can imagine why it finished here.
• 
  Lisa (Harmonybites)

  This is the sixth novel in McCullough's Masters of Rome series, which has been quite a ride. McCullough's prose isn't particularly distinguished, and I've sometimes felt some judicious, nay extensive, cutting would have done wonders for the pacing of these doorstop novels. And the epic scope of these novels begets confusion--it's hard to keep track of her host of minor recurring characters with these mind-numbing Roman names.
  
  Yet I give the series high marks nevertheless--some of the books I rated as high as five stars. In her "Author's Afterword" McCullough says that the historical novel "is an excellent way to explore a different time" that is, if "the writer can resist the temptation to visit his own modern attitudes, ethics, morals and ideals upon the period and its characters." And this is where McCullough excels as few other historical novelists do. I've read any number of novels set in Roman times by authors such as Robert Graves, Robert Harris, Lindsey Davis, Steven Saylor and Gillian Bradshaw. Not one of them came close to McCullough in creating an Ancient Rome that felt so textured, so at once modern and alien to modern mores. Not even Graves who is by far the superior stylist. Because of this series, when a classicist friend of mine told me she only wanted "dignitas" I knew exactly what she meant.
  
  The other thing McCullough is notable for are her characterizations and take on history, which is very different than say, the take in Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. Everyone in this series is held up to Caesar as a measuring stick and found wanting to the degree they opposed him. McCullough's tyrannicides are petty, cowardly men motivated by spite and envy--not patriotism and love of liberty. Her Cassius left me cold, and her Brutus struck me as pathetic. Their lack of moral grandeur makes it hard to feel moved by their tragic fate. McCullough's Cato is a nearly insane fanatic, her Cicero a pompous poser. McCullough's Cleopatra, whose historical brilliance is suggested by her linguistic gifts--alluded to in the novel--comes across as rather dim here. McCullough's Mark Anthony is a thug without any redeeming quality. And her Octavian, although McCullough gives him his due as a master politician, is absolutely chilling. For me the novel crawled after Caesar's death two-thirds in, because it was hard to care anymore--and all through the other novels, there were characters to care about besides Caesar. There was an exception in the closing third of the book--the women's protest under Hortensia, where she demands that if the triumvirate is going to tax women, they better give them the vote. She's awesome. I loved that scene! All too brief though, and so much after the assassination is mired in political and military minutia rather than the human drama behind the history. In a fictional sense, I prefer Shakespeare's conception, while conceding McCullough probably presents a more historically accurate picture. Probably--although at times I suspect she's more than a little in love with her Caesar--and after all, the history of these times were largely written by the victors.
  
  The tedium in the last third, the lack of connection with other characters once Caesar is gone, makes The October Horse the weakest book in the series thus far and makes me want to skip the last book in the series, Anthony and Cleopatra. McCullough says in her "Afterword" she planned to stop with The October Horse, and I think this is where I'll stop too, at least for now. I can't imagine wanting to spend time with her Anthony and her Cleopatra--even though I can't at all regret making my way through the thousands of pages of her Republican Rome.
• 
  Arcadius

  
  This sixth volume covers the tail end of the Pompeian war and Caesar’s brief period of unchallenged power in Rome. I enjoyed it more than the previous three in the series, mainly because McCullough eases up a bit on Caesar as the cocky golden boy surrounded by malignant idiots. They get him here, right enough, but first she finally succeeds in humanising her hero and making him sympathetic. There’s a nice sense of weary futility catching up with a supremely talented man who has finally achieved the pinnacle of power only to find that what he sought just isn’t there.
  
  Cato was always one of the most successful of McCullough’s characters – just about the only major opponent of Caesar we are allowed to take seriously – and she sends him off with a bang here. His march through the Libyan desert and subsequent command at Utica are among the best things in the entire series. The disarray of the conspirators after Caesar’s assassination is also very well handled.
  
  She takes the story down to Philippi, where she had originally intended to call a halt. I’m looking forward to the belated coda Antony and Cleopatra with some curiosity, because I’m not sure that her Antony and (especially) Octavian have been particularly convincing characters thus far. Putting such cavils in context, I felt this particular volume was as successful as the first two - which is praise indeed.
  
• 
  Joe Pickert

  SPOILER ALERT: JULIUS CAESAR GETS ASSASSINATED.
  
  Sorry, I felt like I needed to get that out of the way first. What more can I say about Colleen McCullough and this masterpiece of a series that I haven't already? The historicity, the attention to detail, the astounding depth of the characters all make The October Horse on par with the best works of historical fiction.
  
  Chronologically, this takes us from Caesar's pursuit of Pompey following his crushing victory at the Battle of Pharsalus to the ultimate suicide of the chief conspirator and douchebag extraordinaire Gaius Cassius Longinus. Along the way, we witness the much-romanticized affair between Caesar and Cleopatra, the profound restructuring of Roman society in Caesar's image, and the meteoric rise of Rome's first emperor: Gauis Octavianus Augustus Caesar.
  
  Of all the things I adored about this book, the most salient was probably the way McCullough portrayed the relationship between Octavian and his best friend: Marcus Agrippa. Where Caesar was an ice-cold machine who withheld emotional intimacy from even his closest lovers, Octavian never shied away from expressing love and adoration for Agrippa.
  
  All too often, characterizations of male relationships fall into two frustratingly reductive categories:
  1) "Bromances" defined by machismo and bereft of any emotional depth
  2) Laughably stereotypical gay relationships that only serve to further some plot point or serve as
  comedic relief
  
  In The October Horse, McCullough offers a refreshing alternative: an unexpected yet natural friendship between two men defined by their abiding, platonic love for one another.
  
  That being said, the relationship between Octavian and Agrippa remains a relatively minor component of the larger plot. It just really stood out to me and I wanted to praise McCullough for portraying male friendships not as they are, but rather as they ought to be.
• 
  Austin Grant

  "Who among them could ever have believed that the realty would be so different from the dream, that staring at Caesar dead was such a terrible end to ideas, to philosophies, to aspirations?"
  •
  •
  The sixth book of Collen McCollough's Master's of Rome series, The October Horse describes perhaps the most famous event in Roman history: the assassination of Julius Caesar. The book begins with the end of Caesar's civil war, and does a fantastic job leading up to his fateful death, providing clear motivations and reservations among his killers.
  
  Much of the book concerns Caesar's state of mind having become the leading man in Rome. One really gets a sense that he had no wish to be a king, although his rivals criticized him as such. With the loss of most of his major rivals, many of whom choose death than submission to Caesar's power, Caesar himself falls into a deep depression, and constantly fixates on his own death until it finally comes for him. The latter half of the book deals with the fallout of his death as his successors and killers scramble for power in the vacuum that is created.
  
  As with the rest of the books of the series, The October Horse is superbly researched, detailed, and paced, allowing the reader to get a sense of the very differing mindsets of ancient Romans and the political games they played. All of the main characters have rich and layered characterisation, but to me the standouts were of course Caesar and his adopted son, Octavius, who goes on to become the first emperor of Rome as Augustus. The real Augustus is a personal idol of mine, so I find a fictionalization of his rise to power fascinating.
• 
  Richard

  Prior to reading 'The October Horse' I had enjoyed 'Dictator' the final installment of Robert Harris's Cicero/Tiro trilogy. Reading these 2 books in close proximity was fascinating as it appears both authors have a soft spot for their central character and a dislike for the other protagonist.
  
  Colleen McCullough certainly shows Caesar at his best and one wonders what might have been prevented and what might have been, had he not been assassinated. Cicero meanwhile is not flattered in any way whatsoever!
  
  Having read all 5 of the preceeding Masters of Rome series it feels churlish and disrespectful to suggest this is not the best, but perhaps that is only because McCullough has set such a high standard. There are the inevitable summary passages and statements included for the benefit of readers who haven’t read 1-5 which can feel a bit repetitive. I felt the 'Cor blimey guvnor' style of dialogue attributed to some Roman soldiers (on the odd occasion they have a speaking part) was a little clumsy.
  
  Where McCullough exels is in making us understand what she thinks is going on in Caesar's head. Early in the book she has Caesar reflecting on deliberately referring to himself in the 3rd person as an embodiment of Rome. That felt authentic and powerful.
  
  Yet again we discover as the narrative unfolds just how cruel and violent the ways of Rome were. As this book races to its conclusion I was thinking never mind the First Man In Rome we might be left with the last man standing!
  
  And....I'm so pleased Colleen McCullough changed her mind and wrote a 7th in the series....can't wait!
• 
  SeaShore

  This historical fiction series is worth reading- stick with it. The reader gets the non-fiction, the real characters set in the author's personal creative landscape where she recreates the characters and invents a few fictional ones in a setting that could make this a compelling read. You will meet the young Octavian who changes dramatically into this new person after his adoptive father's (Julius Caesar) death. Octavian grows and rises into the Emperor Augustus Caesar.
  The story of Julius Caesar shines through; the plot to kill him and then the actual murder- the death- the reader would have heard several times before but this is the author's adaptation and we are drawn in. Aware of the rivalry between Octavius and Mark Anthony, the reader wonders how will she present this in the shadow of Caesar's death, of suspicion and animosity, and fear that he might be next.
  If you know the story of Julius Caesar, you know that his first wife was Cornelia and their daughter was Julia who became the fourth wife of Pompey.
  Colleen McCullough's 'fictional' name for Cornelia is Cinnilla. The reader is drawn into the setting with Caesar and Cleopatra lying in bed. Cleopatra is six months pregnant. Caesar says' "I love you as my wife, my daughter, my mother, my aunt."
  
  Then he takes her to see the results of a burned Alexandria. He assures her that all the books destroyed would be replaced. Cleopatra was more distraught over the loss of the books that the heart-wrenching spectacle of all the starving women and children. Vegetation burned, waterfalls dried up but sculptures and paintings were saved.
  
  Caesar wanted Cleopatra to know what was important in the rebuilding Alexandria. ".... Only when Alexandria's people are served can you spend money on public buildings and temples."
  
  He continued, ".... And when I have destroyed what I have left behind will benefit future generations in far greater measure than the damage I did, the lives I ended or ruined."
  
  Such beautiful writing excused the mistakes here and there.
  
  "Do you think, Cleopatra, that I don't see in my mind's eye the sum total of devastation and upheavel I've caused? Do you think I don't grieve?.... I say again, Pharoah rule your subjects with love, and never forget that it is only an accident of birth that makes you different from one of those women picking through the debris of this shattered city. You deem it Amun-Ra who put you in your skin..... I know it was an accident of fate."
  What ever Caesar did was out of conscious decision.
  
  Here, the author describes the scene with passion. The beauty of her dialoguing. The reader understands who Caesar is. Cleopatra understands too. The dialogue is sweeping and rich with information that brings the scenes to life, describing the manner in which Caesar delegated as "commander-in-chief", and he made his imprint wherever he went and the people listened and obeyed with respect.
  
  McCullough knows the stories and all the characters seem to be in her head. Some sentences are confusing and clumsy making the paragraph difficult to follow.
  Example:
  "Brutus was a particularly difficult problem for Caesar, who had taken him under his wing after Parsalus, out of affection for his mother, Servilia, and out of guilt of breaking Brutus's engagement to Julia in order to ensnare Pompey- it had broken Brutus's heart, as Caesar well knew. But, thought Calvinius, Caesar hadn't the slightest idea what kind of man Brutus is when he took pity on him after Pharsalus. He left a youth. He picked up the relationship twelve years later.
  McCullough is trying to tell us that Brutus is a now a wimp. (?)
  
  This sentence:
  "Unaware that a pimply youth now a pimply man of thirty-six, was a coward on a battlefield and a lion when it came to defending his staggering fortune."
  It disrupted the flow of the narrative for me as I attempted to fix it.
  That night sleepless on Cleopatra's enormous goose-down bed, her warmth tucked against him in the mild chill of Alexandria's so-called winter, Caesar thought about the day, the month, the year..... etc etc. Then she adds... .....And a business proposition from a queen determined to save her people in the only way she believed they could be saved, by conceiving the son of a god. Believing that he, Caesar was that god. Bizarre. Alien.
  
  
  However McCullough's dialogue is rich and masterful and there lies her strength in storytelling.
  
  Prepare for a very long read and for me personally, I tried to decipher what was real and what wasn't in the midst of the clumsy sentence structure- Was this work a rushed piece? It is a longer wider journey covering so many characters (actually too many) and not as simple to figure out as in
  Cleopatra's Daughter by Michelle Moran. This historical novel spurred me to study the history behind her writing. I think it all depends on when you read a book and for me, McCullough's book
  Caesar's Women was a challenge as I've already convinced myself of the history of Caesar. I enjoyed her book,
  The First Man in Rome but I read it about ten years ago and I was a lot more patient and again this spurred me on to looking for the history, the facts having created an impressive scene in my mind.
  
  McCullough covered Roman politics weaving this within the drama of the day, which makes a good introduction to that era, to Rome for young readers- probably high school. (This was published in 2002).
  I commend Colleen McCullough (1937 - 2015) and this production.
  
  A good non-fiction is A J Langguth's
  A Noise of War: Caesar, Pompey, Octavian & the Struggle for Rome.
• 
  Julia

  There is very little that hasn't already been said about McCullough's phenomenal "Masters of Rome" series. Meticulously researched and detailed, each is an entertaining, engaging and educational experience. The October Horse spans Caesar's time in Egypt and his murder (sob!), through the warring and deaths of most, if not all, of his assassins in 42 BC. Just one tome remains to complete the series, and I'm already quite sad about it. The amount of anxiety I felt in the pages leading up to Caesar's death was an unsettling and new experience for me -- I wonder whether any other readers had a similar reaction. I've read many other historical works in which the reader knows disaster is coming and aches to change history before it is revealed in terrible detail on the page, but I was nevertheless surprised at how affecting it was.
• 
  Vanessa Sumner

  4.5 stars for the seemingly ENDLESS war scenes. The war between the Liberators and the Triumvirate absolutely slogged. I felt listless after Caesar was killed so I had to push through the last couple hundred pages. I will say that the scene of Cato’s double death is one of the most disturbing things I have ever read. Ditto Porcia’s suicide (murder??).
  This entire series has been an exercise in comparing America’s increasingly ridiculous political climate with that of ancient societies. What I’ve learned:
  Humans are VILE and STUPID and WASTEFUL truly beyond belief. If the Chinese balloons or UFO’s wipe us all out it will just be one more example of the vile stupidity and wastefulness of this species.
• 
  Carl Cardozo

  One of the most bittersweet experiences in my reading career. To finish a series full of characters I had gotten to know so well, knowing as I got closer that it was ending, was rough.
  
  I think the series’ peak was Grass Crown, but this was an incredible finale. Brutus’ human frailty was so realistic and relatable, and Antony and Octavian come off as a truly hatable in different ways.
  
  My favorite characters, series wide: probably Marius, Aurelia, and Sertorius.
  
  Ave atque vale, Ms McCullough. Thanks for this fantastic series, which I will definitely read again.
• 
  Zachary

  The period of the Late Roman Republic was no doubt one of the most dramatic in European history, with men such as Caesar, Pompey, Cicero, Antony, Brutus, and Octavian, and women such as Porcia, Servilia, and the Pharaoh Cleopatra all prominent movers and shakers at the same time, in relation to one another. The events between 48 BCE—and indeed, well before that fateful year—and 42 BCE—and of course, well after that consequential year—would shape the course of Roman history forever. It was truly a watershed moment. Nevertheless, prior to the brilliant Masters of Rome series of historical novels by Colleen McCullough, neither a trained classicist nor creative fiction writer, the Late Republic had been more or less overlooked by serious authors. Whereas John Williams and Robert Graves had famously treated the first years of the Roman imperial era and the machinations of the Julio-Claudians, literature was devoid of well-researched and well-written historical fiction that explored the cultural ethos of the Republic as it slowly fell apart. The Masters of Rome series filled that void, and The October Horse, at first intended to conclude the series—now its penultimate novel—is perhaps the most enjoyable work of historical fiction that I have ever read.
  
  As a classicist myself, my enjoyment stems in no small part from the comprehensiveness of The October Horse. McCullough has read, it seems, nearly every ancient author who in some way chronicles the period—Plutarch, Suetonius, Appian, Cassius Dio, Cicero, Sallust, and many others—and she by no means shies away from the sometimes-mundane details that these authors provide in their historical and epistolary accounts. So, for instance, when Caesar moves across Anatolia just prior to his famous veni, vidi, vici proclamation, after he has left Cleopatra in Alexandria, she describes every military maneuver, each relevant political development, and the totality of the Dictator’s financial fortunes and misfortunes. No stone is left unturned. Sometimes, this commitment to historical veracity becomes tedious and arduous for the reader. Yet, when interpreted from a much broader perspective—that is, when one apprehends the entire novel and reflects on the consequential events that have taken place—this exhaustiveness is much appreciated, at least in my view. For the quotidian military tactics and political machinations ultimately add to an extraordinarily rich picture of ancient life for the noblemen and women of the Late Republic, whose minds we so seldom have the chance to enter into and study. The fullness of this historical portraiture is unmatched in academic volumes.
  
  There are a number of narrative elements and characterizations of note that set The October Horse apart from other fictitious treatments of the years 48-42 BCE, such as Shakespeare’s famous Julius Caesar. Perhaps most plainly, Caesar says not a word as his assassins stab him twenty-three times, in accordance with most of the ancient sources yet contrary to Shakespeare. In addition to his silence, the death of Caesar is rendered rather uniquely, especially for the fact that the liberatores panic after their vicious attack and flee to the temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus. Brutus offers no speech, Antony misses the chance to provide an evocative funeral oration, and the potent uncertainty in the aftermath of the assassination is appropriately drawn out over several months, as it certainly was in truth. Likewise, in terms of characterization, Brutus and Antony are a far cry from their Shakespearean selves. Cowardly, miserly, and politically apathetic until the end of the novel, Brutus is driven to tyrannicide by his wife, Porcia, far more than an intense desire to restore the Republic, for which Brutus initially cares little. His scruples about the assassination, moreover, are the product of fear and cowardice, and do not at all derive from his friendship with Caesar, to whom he was a mere secretary while Caesar conquered Anatolia. Antony, on the other hand, is quite the brute, more so than I envision when I read the ancient sources. He seems to lack the sharp wit and intellect that I believe he must have possessed in order to have positioned himself so well after the death of Caesar. Yet in The October Horse, Antony seems dimwitted and hyperbolically unscrupulous, save for the end of the novel, when he treats the body of Brutus with far more reverence than his fellow Triumvir.
  
  Then, of course, there is Octavian, the most inexperienced Triumvir, yet its most essential member, not least of all for his adopted title, Divi Filius. In my view, Octavian is rendered perfectly, and it is quite the literary and historical adventure to enter into his Ulyssesean mind. Calm yet cruel, refined yet wily, ostensibly trustworthy yet clandestinely deceitful, he is the one Roman other than Cicero whom I truly wanted to achieve his ambitions, however abhorrent I sometimes found his methods. While I take issue with the notion that Octavian anticipated his rise to ascendency and ultimate plan to eliminate Antony as early as Philippi, as The October Horse implies—there were simply too many political variables in 42 BCE for Octavian to have envisioned his later supremacy over the Roman empire—I nevertheless believe that he must have been inordinately calculative in order to have marched on Rome twice, won the consulship by force, defeated Antony at Mutina, and formed the Second Triumvirate. With respect to this aspect of his characterization, McCullough hits the mark. Given that we know so little about Octavian the man—even his busts proffer a cold, steely front—the inner deliberations and premeditated plans crafted by Caesar’s fresh-faced heir spellbind the curious reader.
  
  While my love for Rome has never wavered these past four years as a classics major, The October Horse set fire to my ardor for the ancient world in a way that academic study has not. Here, Caesar, Antony, Octavian—they are all truly alive, and not merely disembodied characters whom I know performed remarkable deeds. To be sure, The October Horse embraces Great Men History in a manner that, as a responsible classicist and student of history, I cannot condone. Yet in a work of historical fiction, I enthusiastically commend this approach, warts and all, even more since the narrative cleaves so faithfully to real events. As I read The October Horse, I realized that there was still so much about the Late Republican period about which I do not know, so much that I need to learn. I also realized how infinitely pleasurable it is to contemplate, armed with reliable historical evidence, even when rendered in fiction, the reasons for the demise of the Republic, the vision Caesar had for the restoration of peace and political order in his new Rome, and the way in which Octavian artfully accrued power and auctoritas in the wake of utter political chaos. These questions fascinate me, no matter how many times I return to well-worn solutions offered by reputable historians. Unlike professional classicists, The October Horse rarely tries to answer such questions. While it may have a thesis—that Rome could not possibly rule its empire with recourse to archaic Republican bureaucracy, and needed an innovative autocrat in order to survive—it nevertheless invites the reader to provide answers of her own. So seldom does a work of historical fiction stimulate the academic mind with such verve and vivacity.
• 
  LeAnn

  In The October Horse, McCullough intended to wrap up her series on the dissolution of the Roman Republic with the death of two of Julius Caesar's assassins, Marcus Junius Brutus and Gaius Cassius Longinus. First, the title is rather misleading in that Caesar and Cleopatra's relationship is rather minor. However, the October horse is a Roman tradition that takes a page to explain, making it a rather opaque reference to Caesar.
  
  During the Roman Republic, the war campaign season ended in October (when the seasons made it too difficult to fight, all sides went home and returned to hostilities in the spring). At this point, the Romans traditionally ran a final chariot race with the four best warhorses from that campaign. The right-hand horse of the winning team got sacrificed afterwards. So the title encapsulates McCullough's main thesis: that Julius Caesar, the Roman's best warhorse, is sacrificed. Since the Romans themselves had lost the intent in the mists of their history, I'm not sure what point McCullough makes about Caesar's sacrifice.
  
  By this point in the series, Caesar has strode across the Roman stage like a Colossus, vastly admirable even though his temper, his womanizing, and his autocratic behavior shouldn't be. Readers identify with the common Roman people and the women whom Caesar charmed. Caesar is brilliant, decisive, and flamboyant. His enemies obdurate, dense, and justifiably jealous. Even though McCullough builds a consistent case for Caesar's ambition to be the First Man in Rome, but never its king, readers might be forgiven for thinking that Caesar should have been.
  
  Most of the broad outlines of Caesar's last days are well known, but The October Horse fills in the details, including his extended effort to reconcile opponents, including Cicero. That appeals to me as the strongest evidence that he didn't seek a throne.
  
  I rather felt sorry for Caesar, who never had close friendships. For all his genius in warfare, engineering, law, oratory, rhetoric and poetry, languages, and lovemaking, in the end he died at the hands of his closest associates who largely owed their status to him.
• 
  Roman Clodia

  After the brilliance and sheer storytelling magnificence of the previous five books, this one comes as a disappointment. Caesar is getting older and while he's reached the pinnacle of Roman politics, he finds himself disillusioned with what that means, frequently frustrated and increasingly short-tempered. And as her hero runs out of energy so, too, does McCullough.
  
  For me, this is a book of two parts: the run up to Caesar's assassination, and then the aftermath. McCullough who's always had a romantic view of Caesar, now switches her allegiances to Octavia (later Augustus) and herein lies one of the problems: for while Caesar does genuinely tower over the period and combine intelligence, charm, ruthless focus and wit, Octavian is a much smaller man in lots of ways, and one whose brutal propaganda has been increasingly deconstructed in academic history - I guess what I'm saying is that I couldn't follow McCullough's emotional trajectory and abandon Caesar for Octavia. This left the book decentred for me.
  
  Stylistically, too, this flags: we're increasingly 'told' things instead of them being dramatised as was the case in the earlier books. So, this is still worth reading: and if you've been following the series, it's a must - but it lacks the energy and perhaps the emotional commitment of the earlier books.
• 
  Ruth Harwood

  A fitting finale.
  The End? Phillipi - a battle or rather non-battle where the two main assassins prefer death to a republic that's no longer a republic.
  Anyone who knows their Roman history knows about Octavian/Augustus and his propaganda machine, the first successful and overwhelmingly world-altering machine of it's kind ever. A man never replicated before or since. This is who Caesar left his vast influence, fortune, political clout and military might to. This is what we owe our world now to - the first of the 'what ifs' I know of that, if it had been different, would have affected not only the European world, the African and Near East, but the rest of the world by extension.
  A fitting end to the series of amazingly written, detailed and interestingly fictionalised books McCullough wrote on this era. I don't see she should have gone further - so many others have written about the Empire, we don't need any further. If she had, she wouldn't have managed to capture quite such a unique period of history, or grab such a climactic ending.
  I loved the whole series, from the first to the sixth of these epics: this is my second reading, and I'll probably read them again some time - they've been worth drowning again!
  Definitely recommended to anyone who wants to know more about the Roman world and how it became what it ended in.