I'm a fan of this series, having read six earlier volumes and having six or seven awaiting attention on my unread shelf. While this entry in the series left me a bit disgruntled, I want to be clear that I intend to continue reading them. One should not over-interpret my marginal complaints.
Saylor's Sub Rosa series has always been two things at once, in the books before this one: a detective novel and a historical novel set in the time of the Civil Wars that brought the Roman Republic to an end. I'm usually fairly comfortable with that twin character, but in this one the two types of story kinda pulled the thing apart.
It starts with a murder, a body in Gordianus's own garden, and he is very quickly provided a client, then more clients, and a detection job. But after just a bit the detective gig unravels, and this becomes a tale of Caesar crossing the Rubicon, Pompey retreating to Brundisium, and Gordianus getting caught between the two camps.
The last bit is typical of the Gordianus stories, as he is uneasy with all of the players in the Civil War game -- while at the same time being forced to work for them.
Saylor made some narrative choices in this book that I can't really discuss without giving the game away, so I won't. I will mention that there is the appearance of plot holes as the thing goes along, but many of them are filled by the end.
Alas, not all of them. I was not really happy with some of the author's decisions, but I grant that they are artistically valid. It will be interesting to see how the ramifications play out in the following volumes.
But there were other issues, which kept throwing me out of the story. Specifically, Saylor keeps using lazy writing devices (and outright errors) that I spend much of my time trying to suppress in my students and professional clients. It won't do him any good to point them out twenty years after the fact (book is copyright 1999), but for readers and writers, be warned: He's a grimace addict, 6 of them in this volume. (I think the previous volume had only three or four.) The crossing of arms happens a bit too often. The solecism "stepped foot" (for "set foot") appears on page 75; the utter misuse of the oft-misused word "careen" appears on page 154. Soldiers anachronistically appear "at attention" on several occasions; and there are painfully obvious Maid & Butler speeches (one using a previous title in the series) on 87 and 154. Phrases about eyes "adjusting" are anachronistic in ancient Rome, but there are several; and while you can make a case for shooting, I'm not sure that shooting glances and looks isn't an anachronism.
But the most annoying bit, which happens repeatedly throughout the book, and is a key plot issue, is typified by this utterly misguided pair of sentences: "Parchment burns easily. Parchment could also be torn, ground underfoot, chewed, even swallowed."
This is a writer who has no idea what he is talking about. Parchment is a form of leather, for crying out loud. It will scorch, but no, it will not burn easily. And it'll stink being scorched, which also ruins his scenes. No, parchment cannot be torn, not by the average person. No, it can't be ground underfoot, not any more effectively than you can grind a catcher's mitt underfoot. You can chew it, but it'll take hours to break it down much. And Zeus help you if you decide to try to swallow any but the tiniest pieces.
These parchment mistakes are spread through the book, in five or six scenes. I started reading this book just before the Writing Popular Fiction residency, at which I was giving my World-Building workshop. Part of that workshop is showing the students samples of papyrus and parchment, and giving them pieces of parchment to take home, so that they won't make mistakes like these. So, of course, I read them the offending lines from the early pages. I didn't know it was going to get worse.
Ah, well.
In sum, this book was frequently entertaining, frequently annoying, and ultimately a bit of a letdown. But I'll be reading the sequel.