The Good
: Holland has an impressive understanding of Ancient Rome and the institutions of the Republic. What's more, this understanding was apparently acquired under the influence of a passionate enthusiasm for all things related to the Mistress of the Mediterranean; and this, combined with his novelist's skills and grasp of language, allows him to whip through the centuries without ever getting hung-up upon minutiae or buried beneath the weight of the various personalities who boldly and energetically bestrode the foredeck of the Republic.
This truly is popular history at its best, a breakneck ride through the tumultuous doings of the Roman Republic in the last century before the birth of Christ that still exert their enthralling spell upon a whole host of modern readers. After a rapid introduction to the birth of the Republic in the sixth century BC and a tour through the Latin and Samnite Wars, the Punic Wars, the absorption of distant provinces, and Rome's makeup - cultural, religous, geographical, and, most importantly, political - Holland then tears it up vigorously in placing the Marian and Sullan factions - and their namesake leaders - within the civic foundations and adjuncts of the Eternal City. The Sullan conservative aristocracy always on guard to preserve their cherished Republican constitution; the Marian demagogues who sought to manipulate the plebian hordes to expand their authority and overcome the institutional bulwarks that prevented the augmentation of their personal power - this forms the dominate theme as we meet Catulus, Lucullus, Cato, Cicero, Pompey, Crassus, Clodius, Catiline, Caesar. The story especially takes off when Caesar, Pompey, and Crassus - the unlikeliest of allies - form the first Triumvirate; then Gaul is smashed, Crassus slain, Caesar set against the Republic defended by Pompey; Caesar victorius but always in danger; Caesar slain and Antony, Octavian, and Lepidus at the head of the Second Triumvirate; proscription, great battles, down to two between Octavian and Antony. Then, after the great smashup at Actium, Octavian reborn as Augustus, the Princeps, the political genius who, under the guise of restoring the august Republic, buried it utterly beneath the gilded chains of a rigorous and absolute monarchy.
Sure, it's not a scholarly work, but it is a damn good read, with no time to catch your breath before being whisked into another clash of wills and personalities, with the civic mobs always swaying in the winds and spoiling for a good fight. Holland does an excellent job at bringing sometimes alien and perplexing customs to light, and is especially adept at placing the actions undertaken by the various actors within the political traditions of the Republic - at how Rome paradoxically encouraged a boundless ambition and hunger for fame within its children whilst simultaneously ensuring that ambition and fame would always be clipped, channeled, or eclipsed in the end - that Rome would always benefit whether its offspring was rising or falling - and thus making them explicable to mindsets tuned to the modern age.
The Bad
: The enormity of the time frame and events that Holland needed to portray certainly limited him in his expositional choices, and thus it was almost inevitable that he would be reduced to the need to tell the tale through the Big Men - and a handful of women in the background - who dominated the course of events. Nonetheless, this does mean that much gets lost in the process, and certain key episodes are whipped through so quickly that many of the details crucial to a true understanding of how things played out are either skipped entirely or condensed to a scattering of words that fail to adequately convey their import. Admittedly, this is a relatively minor complaint, because Holland's choices of what to omit, for the most part, are quite judicious and still impart a visceral understanding of what has taken place and why it mattered.
A more serious flaw is the tone and manner in which Holland pens his history. The story of the fall of the Republic - that institutional framework compiled by a practical and hard-working amalgamation of Tiber hill clans in the midst of an unimportant mountainous peninsula - which, as it teetered on the precipice, had risen to dominate the entire Mediterranean, should be a tale tragic in its unfolding, full of grim pathos and heroic striving. Unfortunately, Holland comes at his material with an irony and sarcasm that drips off of virtually every page, and no matter the character or the historic event being described, the whole is distilled to the raging greed, hypocrisy, pettiness, hatred, revenge, lust, and burning desire for power that underlay everything as an ulterior motive. While the manner in which the proconsuls, in alliance with business interests, ruthlessly exploited the provinces is endlessly reiterated, Holland never mentions the law and order, general peace, good roads and expanded markets, etc. that improved the standard of living for many of the Republic's provincials and client subjects. Although base actions tinged much during this period, it becomes wearisome to see every single thing painted with its unflattering and mocking hues.
That Holland chose this route to portray his subject is, of course, his prerogative; but he is so generally dismissive and harsh towards the Republic that, by the end, the reader can only wonder why its downfall should be presented as a bad thing. If it was, in many ways, a dysfunctional and cynical undertaking in which all roads pointed towards dictatorship, a mercurial snake pit endemically poised to be seized by the strong arm of the despot it repeatedly reared and nurtured within its own walls, then why lament the fact that Augustus removed all of the remaining republican trappings, the naked authority exposed to be covered with his own concealing fig leafs? In Holland's hands, it's not a tragedy, it's a comedy, starring the grossest collection of misanthropic misfits ever assembled upon a single stage. The vast benefits of modern scholarship and hindsight certainly allow the author to drip his bemused irony and thinly-veiled scorn all over his work - but, IMO, it detracts from the very message that, presumably, he has been trying to get across: that the Republic, despite it many imperfections, was a noble and relatively free experiment in a form of representative government. That it fell because it was not designed for the incredibly extensive cultures and realms it came to be required to rule is tragic but true - yet this important point gets lost within the arch patina that Holland applied to his textual brio.
The Ugly
: One of the drawbacks of Holland's witty and bracing style is the abundant insertion of modernisms into the text, which can be jarring in their cheesiness and insouciance: thus Clodia has gangster-chic and porn-caliber; Sulla's legions are described as being stormtroopers; the aristocratic frenzy to snatch up properties in the Bay of Naples is all about location, location, location; Cicero dips into his Rolodex; the Greek petty realms are oppressed by the arm of Big Business, etc. For every corny groaner Holland floats, he provides another that is genuinely amusing - but the effect over time does tend to distractingly remove the reader from the setting of the glorious Republic and remind him that the ancient Roman authors, for all the archaicness of their style, were thankfully absent the need to try and impress their readership by being hip.
The Bottom Line
: The book has its flaws, but they pale next to its galloping readability and informative flow. If your wish is for a well-written popular history of the dramatic final years of the Republic, you'll scarce find one better than Rubicon.