We close on something of a nostalgic final chapter, brimming with the politics of the 2000s: fascism is utterly dead, ne’er again to rear its lowly head. How surprised might Bosworth be a century since Mussolini’s great leap to find Europe dotted with so many such figures, all of whom waging their own private fascisms. He is perhaps right that Hitler remains the model of fascist ideology – insofar as Hitler’s ideology is clearly describable – and he is right that all modern fascists, even the Italians, deny their being fascists, which is at once a curious and important distinction. This is a new movement that just so happens to follow the old, to which it is (necessarily, so far as politics are concerned) wholeheartedly opposed. But while Hitler is the classic lens (applied and misapplied constantly to all disagreeable types), I suspect it is Mussolini, as described here by Bosworth, who is perhaps the better model. Insofar as Mussolini is not, in fact, ideologically specific; he created an ideology of image, an anti-ideology, by which the actual principle is often hard to detect, whereas the means of its acquisition is obvious. Modern replicants may be slightly more direct, in that they are nominally anti-immigration and pro-nationalist nodules, but outside of these promises they are even more nebulous than even Mussolini’s party. They are not even so bold as to promise a revolution, being that their basis is conservative in the nostalgic mode; perhaps they are therefore severed from Italian Fascism by their believing in no real future. Europe is to be museumed, including its ethnicities, by the great politicians. Meanwhile, economically, the tech barons can be trusted to ensure that time continues to move. What can be admired in the Duce is his ability to provoke a genuine optimism for the New Way; where admiration must crumble is the mystery of what this New Way might precisely consist of. In the event, Fascist Italy is not the dreamworld remembered by so many fascist Italians; it seems – and this is not a statement totally absent of merit – to have been a basically functional state for about a decade, and then one in spiralling decline in the decade to follow. But that the reorganized Italy could exist in a state of relative contentedness and relative contiguity under a completely hollow ideology does imply something about the reality of politics and nationbuilding. Bosworth at one point notes that a nation’s ‘reality’ is tested by war – here we see the thing beneath the veneer. And so Mussolini’s Italy immediately collapses. But I am not necessarily convinced by that test, insofar as I do not believe it is necessary that a nation must endure warfare in order to prove its reality. If it is possible – as it surely is – to guarantee a kind of normative existence on foundations that cannot endure mass murder, perhaps the great imperative is to avoid mass murder at all costs. Unfortunately, this was not a conclusion that Mussolini had sufficiently understood; he believed that there must only be easy wars, but wars nonetheless. Bosworth is certainly a historian of his time: he does not layer in his narrative any imaginative or especially engaging description; he does not endeavour to awaken a sense of 20th century Italy in any manner beyond the facts. His prose, decked with an impressive vocabulary but sometimes awkwardly arranged, keeps solely to the facts; he generally prefers paraphrase to quotation; and he does not much indulge in ‘scenes’ between the Duce and his world. This is unfortunate: while Bosworth does land upon an image of Mussolini, and his general trajectory, which could be described as personal, this is a biography that centres itself very specifically on political lines. We therefore do not encounter so much of the ‘other’ Mussolini as we might desire. What, for instance, were his notes on Plato? That might be of particular interest, particularly in merging the man and his idea. Yet in politics Bosworth is occasionally a little hasty: there is perhaps a presumption of general knowledge that leaves parts of his narrative spotty. For instance, he mentions Liberal Italy’s invasion of Libya, but neglects to mention its success (or aftereffects) until much later, in passing. I also found the establishment of the RSI to be vague in detail (and, indeed, many of the consequential turns in Mussolini’s political career perhaps lack some procedural vigour), perhaps not helped by Bosworth’s decision to open his narrative with Mussolini’s final years, and not recapitulate any of that detail as we pass by in the general chronology. But there is something to be said for Bosworth’s succinct and capsulated style; the changes I advocate for would fatten the book, and risk losing what is a relatively even keel between the man and his nation. I am aware Bosworth has written an accompanying text on Fascist Italy, which likely plugs many of the holes I note. But perhaps makes all the greater the shame of not seeing into Mussolini’s personal existence more fully, given such detail will certainly not be treated there. But a personal account is nonetheless provided. Bosworth’s emphasis appears to land on vacuity, and even sadness. Mussolini’s final decade is not merely a failure of his ‘grift’, but a self-conscious realization that it was, quite beyond Mussolini’s intention, just that. His upward motion was marked by such swift and clever manoeuvres, and his victory so singular and complete, that it was only in an equally vertiginous drop that Mussolini quite realized he was, and had always been, standing on air. He himself remarked that the problem with a revolution was that, thereafter, one had to deal with the revolutionaries. He failed to realize that he, and the revolution he personified, came under the same category.