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Fulvia: The Woman Who Broke All the Rules in Ancient Rome
The charismatic Fulvia amassed a degree of military and political power that was unprecedented for a woman in Ancient Rome. Married three times to men who moved in powerful circles, including Marc Antony, Fulvia was not content to play the usual background role that was expected of a wife - instead she challenged the Roman patriarchy and sought to increase her influence in the face of determined opposition.
It's rare to know so much about a particular Roman woman, but Fulvia was so despised by her male detractors that she was much written about. Acclaimed historian Jane Draycott has used original sources to piece together Fulvia's life and sort fact from fiction, while also exploring the role of women in Roman society. Set during the chaotic period when Rome was violently transitioning from a republic to the dictatorship of the Roman Empire, this is an original and fascinating take on an endlessly popular period of history.
It's rare to know so much about a particular Roman woman, but Fulvia was so despised by her male detractors that she was much written about. Acclaimed historian Jane Draycott has used original sources to piece together Fulvia's life and sort fact from fiction, while also exploring the role of women in Roman society. Set during the chaotic period when Rome was violently transitioning from a republic to the dictatorship of the Roman Empire, this is an original and fascinating take on an endlessly popular period of history.
296 pages, Hardcover
First published April 3, 2025
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August 29, 2025
Fulvia emerges from Jane Draycott’s pages like a Roman coin pulled from the Tiber, still bearing the marks of its circulation through hands both reverent and hostile.
The account begins in a year when the city shuddered under omens: “the statue of Mars sweated for three days,” a meteor “traversed the sky from west to east,” and the Tiber “burst its banks into the Campus Martius.” From there, the scene leaps to the Appian Way, where Clodius Pulcher’s journey ended in a clash of armed entourages and a gladiator’s thrown blade. Fulvia receives his body, throws open her doors to the urban crowd, strips him bare to show the wounds, and transforms private grief into a public uprising. His supporters hauled his body into the Curia Hostilia, piled benches and judicial tablets around it, and set the entire Senate House ablaze, creating what one observer called “a funeral pyre for the Republic.”
Cicero would later spit, “Fulvia has nothing she will hold back, neither in her greed nor in her cruelty.” Draycott threads her life through such charged moments: a second husband “slain fighting valiantly in Africa,” a third “engaged in affairs with Cleopatra” while Fulvia commands troops in the Perusine War, her Tusculan childhood amid “villas and ancestral masks,” her lineage of “stammering consuls and loquacious aediles,” her mastery of funerary theatre, coinage propaganda, and political marriage.
The book sweeps across Forum intrigues, the manipulation of the plebeian assembly, and the calculated presentation of her children “as living pledges to Rome,” while the city convulses through civil war after civil war.
In Perusia, famine pressed the defenders into baking loaves from ground grain mixed with hair, an act as revolting as it was desperate. Cicero, in one of his bitterest barbs, claimed that Fulvia wore an earring taken from a man executed under Antony’s orders, parading it as a trophy. In another account, as Roman streets filled with gangs loyal to rival politicians, even magistrates moved under armed escort, while shopkeepers traded gossip about omens involving sweating statues and animals giving birth to monstrous forms.
While the traditional Roman ideal for women was a quiet, home-bound wife who worked with wool, reality was far more jarring and memorable. Some women's transitions into womanhood were marked by dedicating their dolls and other childish things to the household gods on the night before their wedding.
Not all were destined for quiet domesticity. The names of women in families with multiple daughters were sometimes distinguished by their birth order, such as "Junia Prima ('First')" or by their husbands' families, like "Clodia Metelli".
A husband had the authority to punish his wife "if she has done something perverse and awful," and the punishment could include killing her for drinking wine without permission or committing adultery.
Attitudes towards women could be strikingly contradictory, as exemplified by the epigrammatist Martial who declared to his wife, "You may be Lucretia all day: at night I want Lais," contrasting the paragon of virtue with a courtesan.
It is refreshing to read ancient history focused and told from the perspective of women for once.
At its simplest, this is the story of a wealthy woman born into a plebeian family of consular pedigree who marries three men at the apex of power, each alliance deepening her role in the struggle for Rome’s future.
She moves between “the marble colonnades of Tusculum” and “the rotting timbers of makeshift rostra,” between domestic halls and battlefield camps. She funds armies with her own resources, secures loyalty with promises and spectacle, and commands respect through fear and reward. In Perusia, famine drives the defenders to eat “loaves of ground grain mixed with hair,” a detail that distills the desperation of the cause she leads.
Even after her death, she was not safe from insults, as lead sling bullets recovered from a siege bore crude and highly sexualized inscriptions directed at her. This level of violence and vitriol was not uncommon, as shown by a story of a woman who avenged her husband's death by drugging his murderer and gouging out his eyes with a hairpin.
By the time of her death in exile at Sicyon, the stage is set for Antony’s political remarriage to Octavia, a settlement that grows from the ruins Fulvia has shaped with fire and coin.
Draycott’s handling of the sources turns venom into a study of power’s toll. Plutarch observes that she “took no interest in spinning or managing a household, but in governing a ruler and commanding a commander.” Appian writes that her image was stamped on coins beside Antony’s, a pairing as provocative as it was unprecedented. These barbs, drawn from men with their own factions to serve, form a pattern familiar across eras: women who act with authority are framed as threats to the natural order.
The allegory gains weight in a world still rehearsing the same arguments, where ambition in a woman becomes a fault line. Draycott’s structure mingles theatrical sweep with the pacing of a political thriller, creating a reading experience that feels both archival and immediate. Fulvia stands as the kind of figure whose ghost could still rally a crowd, “her voice carrying over the din of swords on shields,” an echo that Rome’s marble cannot contain.
"...As was fitting for women of our rank addressing a petition to you, we had recourse to your womenfolk; but what was not fitting was the treatment we received at the hands of Fulvia, and we have been driven by her to come to the Forum. You have already taken away our fathers and sons and husbands and brothers, on a charge that you were wronged at their hands; if you also take away our money, you will reduce us to a wretched condition unbecoming our birth, our character, and our female nature. If you maintain that you have been wronged at our hands too, as you say you were by our husbands, then proscribe us as you did them. But if we women have not voted any of you public enemies, have not torn down your houses, destroyed your army, or led another one against you; if we have not hindered you in obtaining offices and honours, why do we share the penalties when we had no part in the wrongdoing? Why should we pay taxes when we have no access to the offices or the honours or the military commands or the entire political process, which you have now brought to such a sorry state by your rivalries? Because, according to you, there is a war on? When have there not been wars, and when have women ever paid taxes? … Let war with the Celts or the Parthians come, and we will not prove inferior to our mothers in ensuring safety; but for civil wars may we never pay contribution, nor ever help you against each other. We did not pay tax in the time of Caesar or Pompey, and neither Marius nor Cinna forced us to, nor even Sulla, and he governed the country as a tyrant. You, on the other hand, maintain that you are restoring ordered government..."
The account begins in a year when the city shuddered under omens: “the statue of Mars sweated for three days,” a meteor “traversed the sky from west to east,” and the Tiber “burst its banks into the Campus Martius.” From there, the scene leaps to the Appian Way, where Clodius Pulcher’s journey ended in a clash of armed entourages and a gladiator’s thrown blade. Fulvia receives his body, throws open her doors to the urban crowd, strips him bare to show the wounds, and transforms private grief into a public uprising. His supporters hauled his body into the Curia Hostilia, piled benches and judicial tablets around it, and set the entire Senate House ablaze, creating what one observer called “a funeral pyre for the Republic.”
Cicero would later spit, “Fulvia has nothing she will hold back, neither in her greed nor in her cruelty.” Draycott threads her life through such charged moments: a second husband “slain fighting valiantly in Africa,” a third “engaged in affairs with Cleopatra” while Fulvia commands troops in the Perusine War, her Tusculan childhood amid “villas and ancestral masks,” her lineage of “stammering consuls and loquacious aediles,” her mastery of funerary theatre, coinage propaganda, and political marriage.
The book sweeps across Forum intrigues, the manipulation of the plebeian assembly, and the calculated presentation of her children “as living pledges to Rome,” while the city convulses through civil war after civil war.
In Perusia, famine pressed the defenders into baking loaves from ground grain mixed with hair, an act as revolting as it was desperate. Cicero, in one of his bitterest barbs, claimed that Fulvia wore an earring taken from a man executed under Antony’s orders, parading it as a trophy. In another account, as Roman streets filled with gangs loyal to rival politicians, even magistrates moved under armed escort, while shopkeepers traded gossip about omens involving sweating statues and animals giving birth to monstrous forms.
While the traditional Roman ideal for women was a quiet, home-bound wife who worked with wool, reality was far more jarring and memorable. Some women's transitions into womanhood were marked by dedicating their dolls and other childish things to the household gods on the night before their wedding.
Not all were destined for quiet domesticity. The names of women in families with multiple daughters were sometimes distinguished by their birth order, such as "Junia Prima ('First')" or by their husbands' families, like "Clodia Metelli".
A husband had the authority to punish his wife "if she has done something perverse and awful," and the punishment could include killing her for drinking wine without permission or committing adultery.
Attitudes towards women could be strikingly contradictory, as exemplified by the epigrammatist Martial who declared to his wife, "You may be Lucretia all day: at night I want Lais," contrasting the paragon of virtue with a courtesan.
It is refreshing to read ancient history focused and told from the perspective of women for once.
At its simplest, this is the story of a wealthy woman born into a plebeian family of consular pedigree who marries three men at the apex of power, each alliance deepening her role in the struggle for Rome’s future.
She moves between “the marble colonnades of Tusculum” and “the rotting timbers of makeshift rostra,” between domestic halls and battlefield camps. She funds armies with her own resources, secures loyalty with promises and spectacle, and commands respect through fear and reward. In Perusia, famine drives the defenders to eat “loaves of ground grain mixed with hair,” a detail that distills the desperation of the cause she leads.
Even after her death, she was not safe from insults, as lead sling bullets recovered from a siege bore crude and highly sexualized inscriptions directed at her. This level of violence and vitriol was not uncommon, as shown by a story of a woman who avenged her husband's death by drugging his murderer and gouging out his eyes with a hairpin.
By the time of her death in exile at Sicyon, the stage is set for Antony’s political remarriage to Octavia, a settlement that grows from the ruins Fulvia has shaped with fire and coin.
Draycott’s handling of the sources turns venom into a study of power’s toll. Plutarch observes that she “took no interest in spinning or managing a household, but in governing a ruler and commanding a commander.” Appian writes that her image was stamped on coins beside Antony’s, a pairing as provocative as it was unprecedented. These barbs, drawn from men with their own factions to serve, form a pattern familiar across eras: women who act with authority are framed as threats to the natural order.
The allegory gains weight in a world still rehearsing the same arguments, where ambition in a woman becomes a fault line. Draycott’s structure mingles theatrical sweep with the pacing of a political thriller, creating a reading experience that feels both archival and immediate. Fulvia stands as the kind of figure whose ghost could still rally a crowd, “her voice carrying over the din of swords on shields,” an echo that Rome’s marble cannot contain.
"...As was fitting for women of our rank addressing a petition to you, we had recourse to your womenfolk; but what was not fitting was the treatment we received at the hands of Fulvia, and we have been driven by her to come to the Forum. You have already taken away our fathers and sons and husbands and brothers, on a charge that you were wronged at their hands; if you also take away our money, you will reduce us to a wretched condition unbecoming our birth, our character, and our female nature. If you maintain that you have been wronged at our hands too, as you say you were by our husbands, then proscribe us as you did them. But if we women have not voted any of you public enemies, have not torn down your houses, destroyed your army, or led another one against you; if we have not hindered you in obtaining offices and honours, why do we share the penalties when we had no part in the wrongdoing? Why should we pay taxes when we have no access to the offices or the honours or the military commands or the entire political process, which you have now brought to such a sorry state by your rivalries? Because, according to you, there is a war on? When have there not been wars, and when have women ever paid taxes? … Let war with the Celts or the Parthians come, and we will not prove inferior to our mothers in ensuring safety; but for civil wars may we never pay contribution, nor ever help you against each other. We did not pay tax in the time of Caesar or Pompey, and neither Marius nor Cinna forced us to, nor even Sulla, and he governed the country as a tyrant. You, on the other hand, maintain that you are restoring ordered government..."
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October 17, 2025(...) she is as silent as the proverbial grave, and this has allowed others to put words in her mouth.
A imagem escolhida para ilustar esta obra fala por si. Fúlvia ficou para a história como a megera que, não satisfeita com a morte do grande homem que era Cícero (acrescentem-se aqui as minhas muitas reticências), se acha no direito de lhe profanar o cadáver, recebendo a sua cabeça decepada, cuspindo-lhe sobre o rosto e espetando-lhe um alfinete na língua - uma profanação certamente simbólica, até pelo instrumento utilizado.
A subjetividade histórica é aqui tão flagrante que não nos permite senão o riso - tenhamos em consideração que Cícero é não só responsável pela morte do seu marido, como também pela perseguição do seu filho, entre uma série de outros incidentes nefastos na sua vida. De todas as formas, o retrato daquela que foi uma das mulheres mais poderosas do final da República Romana nunca se afastou muito desta imagem ameaçadoramente próxima daquilo que o patriarcalismo considera uma usurpação de masculinidade.
Não obstante, Fúlvia não chegou a este ponto do nada (haja ou não alfinetes espetados em línguas viperinas na sua história). Quem foi e como chegou a ser quem foi são as perguntas a que a historiadora Jane Draycott aqui tenta responder.
(...) as the daughter of wealthy and well-connected parents and the stepdaughter of a military hero and consul with exceedingly influential friends and allies, Fulvia was situated at the very heart of Roman political, military and social life from a young age, and directly connected to the Caesarian faction – and it would not be long before she began to reap the resulting benefits.
Navegando o mar de referências grosseiras, subjetivas e críticas que a historiografia oferece sobre Fúlvia, Draycott investiga a força do seu retrato, a forma como a mulher, e a mulher romana (sobretudo), é tida como elemento moral que pende sobre a imagem do marido, e de que forma esse papel, externamente atribuído, afeta o seu legado - tendo em conta que ela se casa três vezes, com três homens fortemente empenhados na política, não fica difícil imaginar as motivações por detrás do tom calunioso das suas descrições.
Mas Fúlvia não apenas atua sobre a imagem dos seus maridos amplificando as suas falências e virtudes. Ela escolhe não apenas apoiar (se de apoio se pode falar quando uma mulher romana se sujeitava aos caprichos do marido), mas participar do mundo político. Longe de ser a mulher parideira e tecedeira por quem os romanos ansiavam, toma as suas próprias decisões no que concerne à participação na vida da cidade de Roma.
Com a morte de Clodius, primeiro marido, às mãos de Cícero e da sua turba, recorre a um expediente intrigante (pouco praticado na sua generalidade - por razões religiosas, mas sobretudo, higiénicas) e escolhe expor os despojos do marido assassinado como catalisador de revolta e, consequentemente, de mudança na sua vida. Desde este momento, capaz de, também ela, mobilizar um grupo em prol da vingança pessoal, parece, efetivamente, descobrir o poder da política. Armada de considerável fortuna e de uma missão, escala muito rapidamente a pirâmide social. Casada três vezes, e duas vezes viúva, é ela quem assume o controlo que os maridos ausentes não podem senão delegar. Que o façam na sua pessoa é incomum, mas de forma nenhuma descabido:
According to him, Fulvia was far too prominent, and was actually transacting political business on Antony’s behalf from the women’s quarters of their Palatine home. Living nearby, he would have had an unobstructed view of the comings and goings from the house. Unlike that paragon of Roman womanhood Lucretia, Fulvia was not restricting herself to spinning and weaving but rather engaging in international diplomacy.
Fúlvia, portanto, não só geria o lar como se movimentava nos meandros da política e diplomacia romanas. E chegada a hora de tomar um lado, durante o segundo Triunvirato, também não se fez rogada. Defendendo o terceiro marido (Marco António) contra Octaviano (futuro imperador César Augusto), pega em armas para participar na campanha de Perusia, hoje Perugia:
According to Cassius Dio, at least, Fulvia did involve herself in the military campaign – strategizing, giving orders, and handing out the military watchwords to the soldiers on duty. She apparently even wore a sword.
Pelos padrões atuais - enquanto esposa, mãe, guerreira, diplomata... - é uma mulher admirável. Mas como a veriam os olhos romanos? Enquanto mulher que recusava o seu lugar no gineceu herdado dos gregos, enquanto participante ativa na política e na guerra, qual o juízo que pendia sobre a sua pessoa?
She was an exemplary Roman matrona by the standards of the Late Republic during which she lived and died (...).
So where did it all go so wrong? Fulvia’s most serious transgression, and the one used against her again and again by her enemies during her lifetime and in the decades and centuries that followed, was her desire to provide for herself and her family, and the ways she sought to make that desire real.
Na realidade, enquanto mulher que se mobilizava pela causa dos maridos e enquanto mulher fértil - que a todos deu descendência - a sua imagem não sofreu grandemente. O seu erro, aquele por que virá a ser castigada pela historiografia reside nas convenções de género. Na Roma antiga não havia lugar para a emancipação feminina. Demonstrar vontade própria, ambição, coragem - atitudes consideradas masculinas -, é algo que dificilmente é perdoado a uma mulher. Por conta das suas opções, é descrita nos piores dos termos: como um homem. Felizmente, como Draycott reconhece, será a celeuma contra esta mulher, a principal responsável pela sua sobrevivência histórica.
(...) the chauvinism, sexism and misogyny meant to subjugate Fulvia had quite the opposite effect. Ironically, these attempts to demonize and marginalize her ultimately succeeded in transforming her into one of the most enigmatic and fascinating women of the Roman Republic.
Infelizmente para Draycott, a historiografia sobre Fúlvia é árida quando não é tendenciosa, e abrir caminho por esse deserto não é fácil. A biografia da maioria das mulheres que a história nos deu a conhecer nunca será passível de uma reconstrução de mil páginas. Simplesmente, não é possível recuperar do silêncio de séculos um testemunho rico como aquele que nasce de um esforço concertado para o fazer durar. São estes pequenos passos, dados, sobretudo, por historiadoras contemporâneas, que, de futuro, serão os responsáveis por um manancial historiográfico feminino se não tão extenso, pelo menos tão rico quanto aquele que nos traz a historiografia masculina.
A imagem escolhida para ilustar esta obra fala por si. Fúlvia ficou para a história como a megera que, não satisfeita com a morte do grande homem que era Cícero (acrescentem-se aqui as minhas muitas reticências), se acha no direito de lhe profanar o cadáver, recebendo a sua cabeça decepada, cuspindo-lhe sobre o rosto e espetando-lhe um alfinete na língua - uma profanação certamente simbólica, até pelo instrumento utilizado.
A subjetividade histórica é aqui tão flagrante que não nos permite senão o riso - tenhamos em consideração que Cícero é não só responsável pela morte do seu marido, como também pela perseguição do seu filho, entre uma série de outros incidentes nefastos na sua vida. De todas as formas, o retrato daquela que foi uma das mulheres mais poderosas do final da República Romana nunca se afastou muito desta imagem ameaçadoramente próxima daquilo que o patriarcalismo considera uma usurpação de masculinidade.
Não obstante, Fúlvia não chegou a este ponto do nada (haja ou não alfinetes espetados em línguas viperinas na sua história). Quem foi e como chegou a ser quem foi são as perguntas a que a historiadora Jane Draycott aqui tenta responder.
(...) as the daughter of wealthy and well-connected parents and the stepdaughter of a military hero and consul with exceedingly influential friends and allies, Fulvia was situated at the very heart of Roman political, military and social life from a young age, and directly connected to the Caesarian faction – and it would not be long before she began to reap the resulting benefits.
Navegando o mar de referências grosseiras, subjetivas e críticas que a historiografia oferece sobre Fúlvia, Draycott investiga a força do seu retrato, a forma como a mulher, e a mulher romana (sobretudo), é tida como elemento moral que pende sobre a imagem do marido, e de que forma esse papel, externamente atribuído, afeta o seu legado - tendo em conta que ela se casa três vezes, com três homens fortemente empenhados na política, não fica difícil imaginar as motivações por detrás do tom calunioso das suas descrições.
Mas Fúlvia não apenas atua sobre a imagem dos seus maridos amplificando as suas falências e virtudes. Ela escolhe não apenas apoiar (se de apoio se pode falar quando uma mulher romana se sujeitava aos caprichos do marido), mas participar do mundo político. Longe de ser a mulher parideira e tecedeira por quem os romanos ansiavam, toma as suas próprias decisões no que concerne à participação na vida da cidade de Roma.
Com a morte de Clodius, primeiro marido, às mãos de Cícero e da sua turba, recorre a um expediente intrigante (pouco praticado na sua generalidade - por razões religiosas, mas sobretudo, higiénicas) e escolhe expor os despojos do marido assassinado como catalisador de revolta e, consequentemente, de mudança na sua vida. Desde este momento, capaz de, também ela, mobilizar um grupo em prol da vingança pessoal, parece, efetivamente, descobrir o poder da política. Armada de considerável fortuna e de uma missão, escala muito rapidamente a pirâmide social. Casada três vezes, e duas vezes viúva, é ela quem assume o controlo que os maridos ausentes não podem senão delegar. Que o façam na sua pessoa é incomum, mas de forma nenhuma descabido:
According to him, Fulvia was far too prominent, and was actually transacting political business on Antony’s behalf from the women’s quarters of their Palatine home. Living nearby, he would have had an unobstructed view of the comings and goings from the house. Unlike that paragon of Roman womanhood Lucretia, Fulvia was not restricting herself to spinning and weaving but rather engaging in international diplomacy.
Fúlvia, portanto, não só geria o lar como se movimentava nos meandros da política e diplomacia romanas. E chegada a hora de tomar um lado, durante o segundo Triunvirato, também não se fez rogada. Defendendo o terceiro marido (Marco António) contra Octaviano (futuro imperador César Augusto), pega em armas para participar na campanha de Perusia, hoje Perugia:
According to Cassius Dio, at least, Fulvia did involve herself in the military campaign – strategizing, giving orders, and handing out the military watchwords to the soldiers on duty. She apparently even wore a sword.
Pelos padrões atuais - enquanto esposa, mãe, guerreira, diplomata... - é uma mulher admirável. Mas como a veriam os olhos romanos? Enquanto mulher que recusava o seu lugar no gineceu herdado dos gregos, enquanto participante ativa na política e na guerra, qual o juízo que pendia sobre a sua pessoa?
She was an exemplary Roman matrona by the standards of the Late Republic during which she lived and died (...).
So where did it all go so wrong? Fulvia’s most serious transgression, and the one used against her again and again by her enemies during her lifetime and in the decades and centuries that followed, was her desire to provide for herself and her family, and the ways she sought to make that desire real.
Na realidade, enquanto mulher que se mobilizava pela causa dos maridos e enquanto mulher fértil - que a todos deu descendência - a sua imagem não sofreu grandemente. O seu erro, aquele por que virá a ser castigada pela historiografia reside nas convenções de género. Na Roma antiga não havia lugar para a emancipação feminina. Demonstrar vontade própria, ambição, coragem - atitudes consideradas masculinas -, é algo que dificilmente é perdoado a uma mulher. Por conta das suas opções, é descrita nos piores dos termos: como um homem. Felizmente, como Draycott reconhece, será a celeuma contra esta mulher, a principal responsável pela sua sobrevivência histórica.
(...) the chauvinism, sexism and misogyny meant to subjugate Fulvia had quite the opposite effect. Ironically, these attempts to demonize and marginalize her ultimately succeeded in transforming her into one of the most enigmatic and fascinating women of the Roman Republic.
Infelizmente para Draycott, a historiografia sobre Fúlvia é árida quando não é tendenciosa, e abrir caminho por esse deserto não é fácil. A biografia da maioria das mulheres que a história nos deu a conhecer nunca será passível de uma reconstrução de mil páginas. Simplesmente, não é possível recuperar do silêncio de séculos um testemunho rico como aquele que nasce de um esforço concertado para o fazer durar. São estes pequenos passos, dados, sobretudo, por historiadoras contemporâneas, que, de futuro, serão os responsáveis por um manancial historiográfico feminino se não tão extenso, pelo menos tão rico quanto aquele que nos traz a historiografia masculina.
May 19, 2025
"The lives of elite women in this period were surprisingly culturally, socially and even politically rich, yet they have been consistently overlooked in favour of their fathers, brothers, husbands and sons. Using Fulvia as our guide, we can visit an unfamiliar Rome – one in which women played a crucial, albeit less high-profile role in many of the events leading up to the fall of the Roman Republic. This is not the Rome we often get in history books but it is a Rome that I want to spend time in, and I hope you will join me."
Jane Draycott's Fulvia is an attempt to reconstruct the life story of one of the most maligned women of Roman history, Fulvia, known best as the quarrelsome, sneaky, ambitious wife of Mark Antony. By using what evidence we have left of her, Draycott paints a vivid picture of not just a remarkable woman but the tumultuous decades of the Late Roman Republic, a woman's role in Roman society and the legacy Fulvia left, despite being largely forgotten by history.
Before this book was announced, I had never heard of Fulvia. And I am a historian and a major antiquity geek – someone who has spent more time reading and studying the Roman world than your average person. It was weird to realise that Fulvia truly has been largely forgotten and left out of modern depictions of this time period in, say, TV or cinema. I immediately knew I wanted to pick this book up and get to know her. Draycott's book is engaging from beginning to end, and she does a wonderful job of a) piecing together a credible take on Fulvia, b) contextualising her story by giving the reader enough background information on Fulvia's contemporaries and the notable events of the time without losing track of her as the book's center, and c) making sure the reader is aware that a lot of what she says is speculation because, when it comes to ancient history, especially lives of people who were not written extensively of or who didn't write their own biographies down, it is hard to know much for certain. Draycott uses all kinds of sources from letters to historiography to poetry to pottery and frescoes to fill in the myriad of gaps in Fulvia's story – for example, we can make assumptions about her education based on how some other women of the time were educated and what was described, by men, as ideal education for women of her status.
The Fulvia that emerges from Draycott's analysis is a formidable, clever woman who was absolutely devoted to her family. In many ways, she was the perfect Roman woman – she married and remarried when widowed, gave birth to multiple children including sons for all her husbands, and she seems to have been reliable in household management. She was the culmination of two old family lines and was, thus, most likely an heiress twice over so she was wealthy – a real catch for any man. But all of her successes were overshadowed by her "crimes" and her transgressions. When her first husband, Clodius Pulcher, one of the most chaotic men of ancient Rome (who she seemed to have loved – Cicero said that it was rare to see the two apart, even in public, which was not normal for Roman couples and rendered Clodius's masculinity suspect – to us, that just seems a sign of a loving match) was murdered by his rival, Milo, she stoked the anger of Clodius's followers, leading to riots and the burning of Clodius's body in public (the Senate building burned with him) and a trial where Milo was convicted and exiled. It was said that Fulvia's testimony was crucial in the conviction. Throughout all her marriages, Fulvia was depicted as overtly controlling (it was even claimed that Fulvia's tyranny prepared Antony, unmasculinely enticed by dominant women, for Cleopatra) and people, especially figures like Cicero, kept mocking her marriages, her family and placing them under all kinds of suspicion, indcluding that of adultery. She took a politically active role – something that made women immediately suspect – and it is said that during when Antony became one of the most powerful men in Rome, after the Ides of March, she accompanied him on tours to meet with Caesar's troops and made political deals on his behalf. Some whispered, during Antony's time in the 2nd Triumvirate, that she was actually the real third member of the trio, having marginalised Lepidus's power. She was a mover and a shaker, someone people approached when needing help, interference in her husband's politics and so on.
Some of Fulvia's most notorious actions are related to her supposed extreme violence. She was depicted as an especially violent woman, though, compared to many of her contemporaries, especially men, she hardly counts as violent – but, as we know, there are different rules for men and women. Women were only allowed to be quarrelsome and violent in very specific situations, and only to protect the men of their life or their children. She added names to the 2nd Triumvirate's conscription lists and delighted in Cicero's murder during this crisis, going as far as to, it is claimed, spit on his head and stab his tongue with a hairpin. This is of course an unpleasant thing to do, but considering the culture of violence she lived in and the fact that Cicero had repeatedly threatened her family, her husbands, her safety, made a mockery of her and her marriages for years... Well, I can not fault her for being relieved and happy he was finally gone. Cicero in general seems like such an insufferable gossip and asshat that, yeah, it is no wonder people wanted him dead. Alongside shaming Cicero's head, Fulvia's most notorious undertaking is her war against Octavian known as the Perusian War. When Octavian and Antony's alliance was once again on the rocks and Antony was vibing in Egypt with Cleopatra, Fulvia and her brother-in-law Lucius raised Antony's troops, inspired them to fight, leading to the siege of Perusia, eventually won by Octavian. Fulvia literally started a war for her husband. The archeological evidence of this siege reveals how Fulvia was seen as unworthy of any basic respect: the sling-bullets found on the scene say things like "I am aiming for Fulvia's clitoris" and "Fulvia, spread those arse cheeks". To be fair, the ones fired back did insinuate that Octavian had had so much anal sex his ass was permanently impaired. So, yeah. But, anyway, Fulvia was allowed to leave Rome and she left for Greece with three of her children, were she died, without Antony by her side – he had berated her for her actions and then left her, either cause he didn't care if she died or because he didn't think she was that ill. Joke's on him, cause with her, he lost his access to people loyal to her, her savvy political skills, her experience and her relentless devotion to him and their family. He lost a major pillar of his life, career and support system. Ten years later, he lost his life.
Fulvia's character assassination by Octavian, Cicero and ancient historians is akin to that of so many other formidable, politically active women who broke the rules of Roman society. Fulvia is presented as a greedy woman desperate for fancy finery, a jealous nagging wife who starts a war against Octavian because she is mad that her husband is having an affair with a foreign queen, a sexually desperate older woman who propositions young men (Octavian wrote poems about how she approached him and he said "ew I'd rather fight you than fuck you" – it is thought he was trying to bolster a macho image of himself in a time when he was repeatedly mocked for being effeminate) and a violent crazy woman who men cannot control and who dominates them, making a mockery of Roman gender norms and patriarchy. She is accused of sexual impropriety and adultery, she is referred to as "unwomanly". All of these are classic strategies of ancient men to discredit the problematic women around them, bolster their own image and the status quo. And for centuries, historians have accepted these texts as facts and not stopped to read between the lines, question the biases of these authors or the deep-rooted misogyny of the time: this has led to women like Fulvia (and later, Agrippina the Older and Younger, and Messalina) to be seen as utterly abhorrent. It is depressing to realise how relatable these strategies are even today: if you want to shame a man, you call him girly or a pussy or gay, and if you want to strike out against a woman, you call them a whore, question their femininity and make derogatory sexual comments about them. Men being soft, loving and devoted to their wives and children are still seen as somehow odd, as being stuck under their wife's thumb and not manly.
I am glad Jane Draycott decided to take on Fulvia's story and attempt to peel back the layers upon layers of misogyny that surrounds her fascinating story. She deserves to be remembered and not just as a cautionary tale of what happens when a woman gets too much power, but as a complex human being who was capable of great love and devotion, as well as vengeance and cruelty. I would recommend this book to anyone interested in the political machinations of the Late Republic and the fascinating women who lived through those turbulent times, as well as to any fans of Emma Southon and Honor Cargill-Martin.
Here are some interesting facts I learned:
- There is more evidence of Fulvia than pretty much any other woman of the Late Republic. But so much of her is unknown: for example, we don't have concrete dates for her birth or those of her children, just estimations.
- If a man held one of the big priesthoods (Jupiter, Mars or Qirinu), his wife was immediately regarded as a priestess and thus holy.
- One trope that was popular in Roman lit (and apparently had some basis in real, historical events) is of women breastfeeding their ill or captured parents: this was a sign of true familial loyalty and devotion.
- When a baby was born and cleaned, it was placed on the floor at the father's feet: if he picked it up, he accepted the child as his own and into his family.
- Some Roman matrons had their ashes placed in urns shaped like wool baskets to symbolise their femininity and devotion to a woman's tasks, such as weaving.
- The couch that a newlywed couple ate their wedding feast on and later consummated their marriage was a family heirloom and passed down to the couple's kids – the idea of inheriting your parents' sex couch is... unpleasant.
- Clodia Metelli's daughter, Metella, was immortalised in erotic poetry under a pseudonym just like her mom: Clodia was Catullus' Lesbia and Metella was Lucius Ticida's Perilla.
- Clodius, Fulvia's 1st husband, was known to hang out with mimes, actors, courtesans, gladiators and all kinds of shady peeps, and since he was so rarely seen without his wife, it is safe to assume Fulvia also hung out with these people.
- Fulvia's second husband, Curio, fought for Caesar against Pompey and ended up trying to invade the African kingdom of Numidia - he failed and was killed. The king of Numidia hated him and shamed his body partly due to his hatred towards Caesar (Caesar had shamed him and assaulted him on a diplomatic visit to Rome by yanking his beard) and because Curio had, when serving as a tribunate, tried to confiscate Numidia for Rome.
- Curio and Mark Antony were childhood besties – so close, in fact, that there were rumours of them being or having been lovers. It is possible Antony married Curio's widow to take care of her and her kids as a way to honor Curio.
- When Mark Antony came of age, he had to refuse his inheritance cause all his dad left him were debts.
- Octavian was married to Fulvia's daughter by Clodius, Claudia, for a while.
- Cicero, one of the pettiest bitches in Ancient Rome, called Curio "little miss Curio" cause apparently he was feminine. He was a thorn in Fulvia's side for years, but he was also her and Clodius's neighbour for a long time – the idea of which is lowkey hilarious. Clodius and Cicero hated each other and Clodius ended up manoeuvring Cicero's exile and later burning his house down.
- Cicero claims Antony was so randy that sometimes he was accompanied by seven litters of boys and girls who were his lovers.
- Ten year's after Cicero's death in the conscriptions of the second triumvirate, Octavian gave Cicero's son Marcus the honor of declaring Antony's (his dad's long-standing rival and enemy) death and to enact punitive measures against his memory.
- Fulvia's father Marcus Fulvius Bambalio had a speech impediment - a stutter - which prevented him from seeking a political career: his extra name Bambalio means "to stammer" or "to stutter". Yikes.
- Three of her five kids came to violent ends: one executed by Octavian, one murdered by his men and one forced to commit suicide after committing adultery with Julia, Octavian's daughter and his foster brother (he, Iullus, had been raised by Octavia cause he was but a small kid when Fulvia died).
- We have no idea whether Fulvia was buried in Greece or Rome.
Jane Draycott's Fulvia is an attempt to reconstruct the life story of one of the most maligned women of Roman history, Fulvia, known best as the quarrelsome, sneaky, ambitious wife of Mark Antony. By using what evidence we have left of her, Draycott paints a vivid picture of not just a remarkable woman but the tumultuous decades of the Late Roman Republic, a woman's role in Roman society and the legacy Fulvia left, despite being largely forgotten by history.
Before this book was announced, I had never heard of Fulvia. And I am a historian and a major antiquity geek – someone who has spent more time reading and studying the Roman world than your average person. It was weird to realise that Fulvia truly has been largely forgotten and left out of modern depictions of this time period in, say, TV or cinema. I immediately knew I wanted to pick this book up and get to know her. Draycott's book is engaging from beginning to end, and she does a wonderful job of a) piecing together a credible take on Fulvia, b) contextualising her story by giving the reader enough background information on Fulvia's contemporaries and the notable events of the time without losing track of her as the book's center, and c) making sure the reader is aware that a lot of what she says is speculation because, when it comes to ancient history, especially lives of people who were not written extensively of or who didn't write their own biographies down, it is hard to know much for certain. Draycott uses all kinds of sources from letters to historiography to poetry to pottery and frescoes to fill in the myriad of gaps in Fulvia's story – for example, we can make assumptions about her education based on how some other women of the time were educated and what was described, by men, as ideal education for women of her status.
The Fulvia that emerges from Draycott's analysis is a formidable, clever woman who was absolutely devoted to her family. In many ways, she was the perfect Roman woman – she married and remarried when widowed, gave birth to multiple children including sons for all her husbands, and she seems to have been reliable in household management. She was the culmination of two old family lines and was, thus, most likely an heiress twice over so she was wealthy – a real catch for any man. But all of her successes were overshadowed by her "crimes" and her transgressions. When her first husband, Clodius Pulcher, one of the most chaotic men of ancient Rome (who she seemed to have loved – Cicero said that it was rare to see the two apart, even in public, which was not normal for Roman couples and rendered Clodius's masculinity suspect – to us, that just seems a sign of a loving match) was murdered by his rival, Milo, she stoked the anger of Clodius's followers, leading to riots and the burning of Clodius's body in public (the Senate building burned with him) and a trial where Milo was convicted and exiled. It was said that Fulvia's testimony was crucial in the conviction. Throughout all her marriages, Fulvia was depicted as overtly controlling (it was even claimed that Fulvia's tyranny prepared Antony, unmasculinely enticed by dominant women, for Cleopatra) and people, especially figures like Cicero, kept mocking her marriages, her family and placing them under all kinds of suspicion, indcluding that of adultery. She took a politically active role – something that made women immediately suspect – and it is said that during when Antony became one of the most powerful men in Rome, after the Ides of March, she accompanied him on tours to meet with Caesar's troops and made political deals on his behalf. Some whispered, during Antony's time in the 2nd Triumvirate, that she was actually the real third member of the trio, having marginalised Lepidus's power. She was a mover and a shaker, someone people approached when needing help, interference in her husband's politics and so on.
Some of Fulvia's most notorious actions are related to her supposed extreme violence. She was depicted as an especially violent woman, though, compared to many of her contemporaries, especially men, she hardly counts as violent – but, as we know, there are different rules for men and women. Women were only allowed to be quarrelsome and violent in very specific situations, and only to protect the men of their life or their children. She added names to the 2nd Triumvirate's conscription lists and delighted in Cicero's murder during this crisis, going as far as to, it is claimed, spit on his head and stab his tongue with a hairpin. This is of course an unpleasant thing to do, but considering the culture of violence she lived in and the fact that Cicero had repeatedly threatened her family, her husbands, her safety, made a mockery of her and her marriages for years... Well, I can not fault her for being relieved and happy he was finally gone. Cicero in general seems like such an insufferable gossip and asshat that, yeah, it is no wonder people wanted him dead. Alongside shaming Cicero's head, Fulvia's most notorious undertaking is her war against Octavian known as the Perusian War. When Octavian and Antony's alliance was once again on the rocks and Antony was vibing in Egypt with Cleopatra, Fulvia and her brother-in-law Lucius raised Antony's troops, inspired them to fight, leading to the siege of Perusia, eventually won by Octavian. Fulvia literally started a war for her husband. The archeological evidence of this siege reveals how Fulvia was seen as unworthy of any basic respect: the sling-bullets found on the scene say things like "I am aiming for Fulvia's clitoris" and "Fulvia, spread those arse cheeks". To be fair, the ones fired back did insinuate that Octavian had had so much anal sex his ass was permanently impaired. So, yeah. But, anyway, Fulvia was allowed to leave Rome and she left for Greece with three of her children, were she died, without Antony by her side – he had berated her for her actions and then left her, either cause he didn't care if she died or because he didn't think she was that ill. Joke's on him, cause with her, he lost his access to people loyal to her, her savvy political skills, her experience and her relentless devotion to him and their family. He lost a major pillar of his life, career and support system. Ten years later, he lost his life.
Fulvia's character assassination by Octavian, Cicero and ancient historians is akin to that of so many other formidable, politically active women who broke the rules of Roman society. Fulvia is presented as a greedy woman desperate for fancy finery, a jealous nagging wife who starts a war against Octavian because she is mad that her husband is having an affair with a foreign queen, a sexually desperate older woman who propositions young men (Octavian wrote poems about how she approached him and he said "ew I'd rather fight you than fuck you" – it is thought he was trying to bolster a macho image of himself in a time when he was repeatedly mocked for being effeminate) and a violent crazy woman who men cannot control and who dominates them, making a mockery of Roman gender norms and patriarchy. She is accused of sexual impropriety and adultery, she is referred to as "unwomanly". All of these are classic strategies of ancient men to discredit the problematic women around them, bolster their own image and the status quo. And for centuries, historians have accepted these texts as facts and not stopped to read between the lines, question the biases of these authors or the deep-rooted misogyny of the time: this has led to women like Fulvia (and later, Agrippina the Older and Younger, and Messalina) to be seen as utterly abhorrent. It is depressing to realise how relatable these strategies are even today: if you want to shame a man, you call him girly or a pussy or gay, and if you want to strike out against a woman, you call them a whore, question their femininity and make derogatory sexual comments about them. Men being soft, loving and devoted to their wives and children are still seen as somehow odd, as being stuck under their wife's thumb and not manly.
I am glad Jane Draycott decided to take on Fulvia's story and attempt to peel back the layers upon layers of misogyny that surrounds her fascinating story. She deserves to be remembered and not just as a cautionary tale of what happens when a woman gets too much power, but as a complex human being who was capable of great love and devotion, as well as vengeance and cruelty. I would recommend this book to anyone interested in the political machinations of the Late Republic and the fascinating women who lived through those turbulent times, as well as to any fans of Emma Southon and Honor Cargill-Martin.
Here are some interesting facts I learned:
- There is more evidence of Fulvia than pretty much any other woman of the Late Republic. But so much of her is unknown: for example, we don't have concrete dates for her birth or those of her children, just estimations.
- If a man held one of the big priesthoods (Jupiter, Mars or Qirinu), his wife was immediately regarded as a priestess and thus holy.
- One trope that was popular in Roman lit (and apparently had some basis in real, historical events) is of women breastfeeding their ill or captured parents: this was a sign of true familial loyalty and devotion.
- When a baby was born and cleaned, it was placed on the floor at the father's feet: if he picked it up, he accepted the child as his own and into his family.
- Some Roman matrons had their ashes placed in urns shaped like wool baskets to symbolise their femininity and devotion to a woman's tasks, such as weaving.
- The couch that a newlywed couple ate their wedding feast on and later consummated their marriage was a family heirloom and passed down to the couple's kids – the idea of inheriting your parents' sex couch is... unpleasant.
- Clodia Metelli's daughter, Metella, was immortalised in erotic poetry under a pseudonym just like her mom: Clodia was Catullus' Lesbia and Metella was Lucius Ticida's Perilla.
- Clodius, Fulvia's 1st husband, was known to hang out with mimes, actors, courtesans, gladiators and all kinds of shady peeps, and since he was so rarely seen without his wife, it is safe to assume Fulvia also hung out with these people.
- Fulvia's second husband, Curio, fought for Caesar against Pompey and ended up trying to invade the African kingdom of Numidia - he failed and was killed. The king of Numidia hated him and shamed his body partly due to his hatred towards Caesar (Caesar had shamed him and assaulted him on a diplomatic visit to Rome by yanking his beard) and because Curio had, when serving as a tribunate, tried to confiscate Numidia for Rome.
- Curio and Mark Antony were childhood besties – so close, in fact, that there were rumours of them being or having been lovers. It is possible Antony married Curio's widow to take care of her and her kids as a way to honor Curio.
- When Mark Antony came of age, he had to refuse his inheritance cause all his dad left him were debts.
- Octavian was married to Fulvia's daughter by Clodius, Claudia, for a while.
- Cicero, one of the pettiest bitches in Ancient Rome, called Curio "little miss Curio" cause apparently he was feminine. He was a thorn in Fulvia's side for years, but he was also her and Clodius's neighbour for a long time – the idea of which is lowkey hilarious. Clodius and Cicero hated each other and Clodius ended up manoeuvring Cicero's exile and later burning his house down.
- Cicero claims Antony was so randy that sometimes he was accompanied by seven litters of boys and girls who were his lovers.
- Ten year's after Cicero's death in the conscriptions of the second triumvirate, Octavian gave Cicero's son Marcus the honor of declaring Antony's (his dad's long-standing rival and enemy) death and to enact punitive measures against his memory.
- Fulvia's father Marcus Fulvius Bambalio had a speech impediment - a stutter - which prevented him from seeking a political career: his extra name Bambalio means "to stammer" or "to stutter". Yikes.
- Three of her five kids came to violent ends: one executed by Octavian, one murdered by his men and one forced to commit suicide after committing adultery with Julia, Octavian's daughter and his foster brother (he, Iullus, had been raised by Octavia cause he was but a small kid when Fulvia died).
- We have no idea whether Fulvia was buried in Greece or Rome.
May 9, 2025
4.5/5
Getting into non-fiction was really not on my 2025 bingo card, but I’m currently reading my second of the year! My first was this fantastic book.
What drew me to this was the cover and then spotting the quotes from Fulvia’s male contemporaries (swipe for a couple), I was eager to learn more about this woman who had their proverbial knickers so in a twist!
‘The charismatic Fulvia amassed a degree of military and political power that was unprecedented for a woman in Ancient Rome. Married three times to men who moved in powerful circles, including Marc Antony, Fulvia was not content to play the usual background role that was expected of a wife - instead she challenged the Roman patriarchy and sought to increase her influence in the face of determined opposition. ‘
Historian Jane Draycott uses what frustratingly little we have in original sources (although that’s more than is usual for a woman of this time) to piece together Fulvia’s life and sets this against the backdrop of the societal norms and expectations of women at the time.
Most of what we have is on her family and marriages, and Jane did a wonderful job of building a picture of what Fulvia could have been like as a person, never being forceful in drawing conclusions and letting the reader decide for themselves.
I loved learning more about this period of Ancient Rome and despite these events happening around a century before, this was actually a great companion to Boudicca’s Daughter since Rome seems to have been perpetually politically fraught and chaotic!
Definitely recommend this one if you’re looking for a new non-fiction read.
Getting into non-fiction was really not on my 2025 bingo card, but I’m currently reading my second of the year! My first was this fantastic book.
What drew me to this was the cover and then spotting the quotes from Fulvia’s male contemporaries (swipe for a couple), I was eager to learn more about this woman who had their proverbial knickers so in a twist!
‘The charismatic Fulvia amassed a degree of military and political power that was unprecedented for a woman in Ancient Rome. Married three times to men who moved in powerful circles, including Marc Antony, Fulvia was not content to play the usual background role that was expected of a wife - instead she challenged the Roman patriarchy and sought to increase her influence in the face of determined opposition. ‘
Historian Jane Draycott uses what frustratingly little we have in original sources (although that’s more than is usual for a woman of this time) to piece together Fulvia’s life and sets this against the backdrop of the societal norms and expectations of women at the time.
Most of what we have is on her family and marriages, and Jane did a wonderful job of building a picture of what Fulvia could have been like as a person, never being forceful in drawing conclusions and letting the reader decide for themselves.
I loved learning more about this period of Ancient Rome and despite these events happening around a century before, this was actually a great companion to Boudicca’s Daughter since Rome seems to have been perpetually politically fraught and chaotic!
Definitely recommend this one if you’re looking for a new non-fiction read.
June 3, 2025
I'm all about shining a light on what people who were invisible (women, slaves, peasants..) in the ancient world. The sad fact remains that there are simply not that many sources available about them, so, as here, the author has to resort to "her wedding *would have* looked like this" and "her funeral *would have* looked like that". It is even more difficult to attribute motive to her. For this reason, while I enjoyed reading this book (one should come in with a good knowledge of late Republic chronology), I am not entirely convinced that Fulvia is as historically significant as she was portrayed to be. For example, it is certainly extraordinary that she was involved (to use a neutral word) in the battle of Perusine and that lead bullets with insults were addressed to her (which would have hung on my wall as a badge of honor), what do we really know about how involved she was?
For this reason I will give this book a three star. Though the cover, which is Fulvia with the head of Cicero, is great!
For this reason I will give this book a three star. Though the cover, which is Fulvia with the head of Cicero, is great!
June 24, 2025
Fulvia by Jane Draycott was the need of the hour and I am sure she did a huge service to the world of historical women who have been throughout the centuries and wide across the globe, tarnished, attacked, villified, subjected to ugly blames and stories for one or the other reason till now. There are several of them and one of them was Fulvia, a very important figure in the Roman history, much forgotten and rather painted in negative shades by her contemporaries including Cicero and others
I came across this book on Pinterest and immediately started reading it. I didn't expect to get hooked to it let alone finish the entire book in a day in a few settings. I'm new to the Roman history and I'm not particular fascinated by it however the name and tag line in the book didn't let me ignore it. The author has done an excellent job, even to the new minds to me for whom it was easier to follow as she gives a sneak peak into the political, social, religious and yes misogynist climate during the times when Fulvia existed.
I must appreciate the author for writing a book on someone who barely has any historical remnants, notes and writings on her, whatever that stayed were all negative throughout the centuries passed on from generation to another which keep getting worse and worse in exaggeration. The intent of the author is commendable, she attempts to hold a mirror, much of contrary to what's depicted and present the history of Fulvia with 'what it could have been instead'. And she does the work perfectly
I didn't even know a woman like Fulvia existed and now I not only am aware of someone like her but I am very well sure there were millions and millions of women back in history who were much like her, with negative shades splashed on their faces thanks to the men and the society that didn't like seeing someone unconventional like them.
It's not easy to write on historical people like this. The author relies on many inscriptions, standards and what not in order to carve and shape Fulvia into existence in her books. At times it feels like she justifies her, but as they say history is written by dominant figures and that exists stronger in Fulvia's case lot like Cicero, Marc Anthony, Octavian and others played a prominent role.
Fulvia did what she could do as a devout wife and mother of five. It seems like since almost from her teen years when she got married to her late 30s or early 40s all she had to endure was one loss after the other, one accuse and humiliation after the other. A life which demanded her strong action at every corner of her and she did in fact gave the best she could.
I hope some day the world gives her a soft corner. I wonder how many Fulvias we got. I also feel like how many Fulvias in the common households might have been there. How many Fulvias are getting created as I type my review here. I wonder if I'd be some day or someone I know personally
It's daunting to acknowledge that much things haven't changed for women despite so much of centuries between Fulvia and the present day women. The patterns of misogyny still persist even today in the most predictable manner. It feels like nothing major has changed. For to ruin a woman's name you might paint her chastity questioned, her head strong determination in dark shades and villainify her, you're good to go
I came across this book on Pinterest and immediately started reading it. I didn't expect to get hooked to it let alone finish the entire book in a day in a few settings. I'm new to the Roman history and I'm not particular fascinated by it however the name and tag line in the book didn't let me ignore it. The author has done an excellent job, even to the new minds to me for whom it was easier to follow as she gives a sneak peak into the political, social, religious and yes misogynist climate during the times when Fulvia existed.
I must appreciate the author for writing a book on someone who barely has any historical remnants, notes and writings on her, whatever that stayed were all negative throughout the centuries passed on from generation to another which keep getting worse and worse in exaggeration. The intent of the author is commendable, she attempts to hold a mirror, much of contrary to what's depicted and present the history of Fulvia with 'what it could have been instead'. And she does the work perfectly
I didn't even know a woman like Fulvia existed and now I not only am aware of someone like her but I am very well sure there were millions and millions of women back in history who were much like her, with negative shades splashed on their faces thanks to the men and the society that didn't like seeing someone unconventional like them.
It's not easy to write on historical people like this. The author relies on many inscriptions, standards and what not in order to carve and shape Fulvia into existence in her books. At times it feels like she justifies her, but as they say history is written by dominant figures and that exists stronger in Fulvia's case lot like Cicero, Marc Anthony, Octavian and others played a prominent role.
Fulvia did what she could do as a devout wife and mother of five. It seems like since almost from her teen years when she got married to her late 30s or early 40s all she had to endure was one loss after the other, one accuse and humiliation after the other. A life which demanded her strong action at every corner of her and she did in fact gave the best she could.
I hope some day the world gives her a soft corner. I wonder how many Fulvias we got. I also feel like how many Fulvias in the common households might have been there. How many Fulvias are getting created as I type my review here. I wonder if I'd be some day or someone I know personally
It's daunting to acknowledge that much things haven't changed for women despite so much of centuries between Fulvia and the present day women. The patterns of misogyny still persist even today in the most predictable manner. It feels like nothing major has changed. For to ruin a woman's name you might paint her chastity questioned, her head strong determination in dark shades and villainify her, you're good to go
June 15, 2025
More a history of her husband’s than of her…
August 1, 2025
So I didn't realise that this was a factual history book. Like, I expected it to be a fictionalisation of Fulvias life. But I still listened to the whole thing (I maybe wouldn't have if I was reading a physical book) but I had never heard of Fulvia and it was rather lovely to find out about a Roman woman who you can Google and find out they have coins and statues of their liking actually knocking around!
November 30, 2025
rather brief, but the sources on fulvia are also unfortunately rather scant. that being said the writing is engaging and the details around the lives of high profile women in the fall of the republic/early imperial rome (the details around the traditional roman wedding for example really stood out to me) are great. she did nothing wrong!!!!
May 10, 2025
3.5 stars. Source criticism could be applied in a more consistent way, but I generally just really enjoy these biographies about women from the ancient world. Draycott's writing is immersive and to the point.
December 13, 2025
Interesting.
April 14, 2025
This book does such a wonderful job of telling the story of Fulvia's life with the few surviving (and certainly biased) accounts. The author examines why she was often viewed in such a negative light and attempts to present Fulvia as not just a power hungry villian. I enjoyed learning about her, and may have a new obsession!
November 30, 2025
I really enjoyed this! I came in knowing basically nothing about Ancient Rome so this was a series of revelations, not least that Rome was so messy!! Omg!!!
Really fun read, really interesting, my one drawback is that they had like 10 names in Ancient Rome so it was hard to keep track of everybody, but that's not the author's fault nor the book's fault really.
Really fun read, really interesting, my one drawback is that they had like 10 names in Ancient Rome so it was hard to keep track of everybody, but that's not the author's fault nor the book's fault really.
November 2, 2025
Continued my obsession with the Late Roman Republic by reading this fresh approach: focusing in on one of the key female figures of the time. While she had some strong highlights, there isn’t enough information available to paint a full picture of Fulvia as a person, and this led to quite a bit of filler. Nonetheless, it’s important that history books like this continue to come out to inform and entertain through a non-traditional lens.
April 25, 2025
2.5 stars. i don’t want to be too harsh with this review as i did enjoy some aspects of the book and there was some juicy elements to fulvia’s story, but the way it was written isn’t for me personally. it’s a very fact heavy book, and while it was nice to learn some new things, i prefer my non-fiction books with more of a narrative style (hence it taking me a month to read)
May 3, 2025
Book Review: A Feminist Reclamation of Fulvia: The Woman Who Broke All the Rules in Ancient Rome by Jane Draycott
Jane Draycott’s Fulvia: The Woman Who Broke All the Rules in Ancient Rome is a groundbreaking biography that rescues its titular figure from the gendered vitriol of history and repositions her as a strategic political force in her own right. Fulvia—aristocrat, wife to powerful men (including Mark Antony), and a rare female actor in Rome’s violent power struggles—has long been maligned by ancient sources like Cicero, who dismissed her as “rapacious.” Draycott, however, peels back the misogynistic layers of these accounts to reveal a woman who deftly navigated (and exploited) the limited avenues available to her in a patriarchal system.
Thematic Core: Power and the Performance of Femininity
Draycott’s central thesis interrogates how Fulvia’s legacy was weaponized against her. In a society where women were barred from formal politics, Fulvia’s influence—whether through wealth, marriage alliances, or public patronage—was framed as unnatural, even monstrous. The biography meticulously dissects how her actions (e.g., rallying troops during civil war, minting coins with her image) were not mere extensions of her husbands’ ambitions but deliberate assertions of agency. Draycott reframes Fulvia’s “ruthlessness” as pragmatic survival in a world that punished women for ambition.
Narrative Strengths: Nuance and Historical Context
The book excels in its refusal to romanticize or vilify Fulvia. Instead, Draycott situates her within the broader contradictions of Roman womanhood: expected to embody pietas (dutiful virtue) while silently upholding family dynasties. Scenes of Fulvia’s political maneuvering—such as her alleged involvement in Cicero’s execution—are analyzed not as moral failures but as calculated moves in a game rigged against her. Draycott also highlights Fulvia’s populist leanings, suggesting she may have championed plebeian causes, a rarity among elite women.
Feminist Methodology: Reading Between the Lines
Draycott’s approach is inherently feminist, challenging the androcentric bias of primary sources. Where ancient historians reduced Fulvia to a scheming wife or a “masculine” aberration, Draycott mines material culture (coins, inscriptions) and comparative examples to reconstruct her influence. The biography’s most compelling passages explore how Fulvia’s contemporaries weaponized gendered slurs to delegitimize her—a tactic with eerie parallels to modern misogynist rhetoric.
Limitations and Unanswered Questions
The book occasionally struggles with gaps in the historical record. Fulvia’s inner life—her motivations, personal relationships—remains speculative in places, though Draycott transparently acknowledges these constraints. A deeper exploration of how Fulvia’s actions impacted later Roman women (or how her legacy influenced early imperial portrayals of “dangerous” women like Livia) could have strengthened the analysis.
Legacy and Contemporary Resonance
Fulvia is more than a biography; it’s a case study in how history silences transgressive women. Draycott’s work invites readers to question whose stories are preserved and why. In an era where female politicians still face gendered scrutiny, Fulvia’s story feels urgently relevant. The book’s greatest achievement is its refusal to let her be a footnote to the men around her.
Verdict: 4.5/5
A vital contribution to feminist historiography, Fulvia combines rigorous scholarship with narrative verve. Draycott doesn’t just rehabilitate her subject—she forces us to confront why Fulvia needed rehabilitating in the first place.
Thematic Anchors:
Agency vs. Demonization: How ambition is gendered as pathology.
Material Power: Wealth and image as tools of influence.
Historical Reception: The politics of who gets remembered (and how).
Populism and Gender: Elite women’s role in plebeian advocacy.
Jane Draycott’s Fulvia: The Woman Who Broke All the Rules in Ancient Rome is a groundbreaking biography that rescues its titular figure from the gendered vitriol of history and repositions her as a strategic political force in her own right. Fulvia—aristocrat, wife to powerful men (including Mark Antony), and a rare female actor in Rome’s violent power struggles—has long been maligned by ancient sources like Cicero, who dismissed her as “rapacious.” Draycott, however, peels back the misogynistic layers of these accounts to reveal a woman who deftly navigated (and exploited) the limited avenues available to her in a patriarchal system.
Thematic Core: Power and the Performance of Femininity
Draycott’s central thesis interrogates how Fulvia’s legacy was weaponized against her. In a society where women were barred from formal politics, Fulvia’s influence—whether through wealth, marriage alliances, or public patronage—was framed as unnatural, even monstrous. The biography meticulously dissects how her actions (e.g., rallying troops during civil war, minting coins with her image) were not mere extensions of her husbands’ ambitions but deliberate assertions of agency. Draycott reframes Fulvia’s “ruthlessness” as pragmatic survival in a world that punished women for ambition.
Narrative Strengths: Nuance and Historical Context
The book excels in its refusal to romanticize or vilify Fulvia. Instead, Draycott situates her within the broader contradictions of Roman womanhood: expected to embody pietas (dutiful virtue) while silently upholding family dynasties. Scenes of Fulvia’s political maneuvering—such as her alleged involvement in Cicero’s execution—are analyzed not as moral failures but as calculated moves in a game rigged against her. Draycott also highlights Fulvia’s populist leanings, suggesting she may have championed plebeian causes, a rarity among elite women.
Feminist Methodology: Reading Between the Lines
Draycott’s approach is inherently feminist, challenging the androcentric bias of primary sources. Where ancient historians reduced Fulvia to a scheming wife or a “masculine” aberration, Draycott mines material culture (coins, inscriptions) and comparative examples to reconstruct her influence. The biography’s most compelling passages explore how Fulvia’s contemporaries weaponized gendered slurs to delegitimize her—a tactic with eerie parallels to modern misogynist rhetoric.
Limitations and Unanswered Questions
The book occasionally struggles with gaps in the historical record. Fulvia’s inner life—her motivations, personal relationships—remains speculative in places, though Draycott transparently acknowledges these constraints. A deeper exploration of how Fulvia’s actions impacted later Roman women (or how her legacy influenced early imperial portrayals of “dangerous” women like Livia) could have strengthened the analysis.
Legacy and Contemporary Resonance
Fulvia is more than a biography; it’s a case study in how history silences transgressive women. Draycott’s work invites readers to question whose stories are preserved and why. In an era where female politicians still face gendered scrutiny, Fulvia’s story feels urgently relevant. The book’s greatest achievement is its refusal to let her be a footnote to the men around her.
Verdict: 4.5/5
A vital contribution to feminist historiography, Fulvia combines rigorous scholarship with narrative verve. Draycott doesn’t just rehabilitate her subject—she forces us to confront why Fulvia needed rehabilitating in the first place.
Thematic Anchors:
Agency vs. Demonization: How ambition is gendered as pathology.
Material Power: Wealth and image as tools of influence.
Historical Reception: The politics of who gets remembered (and how).
Populism and Gender: Elite women’s role in plebeian advocacy.
June 18, 2025
When Fulvia displayed her murdered husband's mutilated corpse to incite a Roman mob, when she allegedly stabbed Cicero's severed tongue with a hairpin, and when she donned a sword to command soldiers during the Perusine War, she was doing what any Roman patriarch might do to protect his family's interests. That these actions have been remembered as monstrous rather than strategic tells us everything about the double standards applied to women who wielded power in ancient Rome.
In "Fulvia: The Woman Who Broke All the Rules in Ancient Rome," Jane Draycott offers a revisionist biography that succeeds brilliantly in its methodological transparency. Rather than simply dismissing hostile ancient sources, she demonstrates how to read them against their grain. Draycott's project is ambitious: to "reverse-engineer" Fulvia's life from fragmentary, biased sources and recover a figure who, despite centuries of vilification, wielded genuine influence in a world that officially excluded her from power.
The book's greatest strength lies in its critical engagement with misogynistic historiography. By foregrounding the double standards applied to women who exercised political agency, Draycott deftly contextualizes Fulvia's actions, not as aberrant or unwomanly, but as rational responses to a collapsing social order in which family survival required audacity and pragmatism. This approach succeeds particularly well when examining Fulvia's involvement in the Perusine War and the political aftermath of Clodius's death, reframing her choices not as an emotional excess but as a strategic necessity.
Draycott's prose remains engaging throughout, avoiding jargon without sacrificing intellectual rigor. Her modern analogies, while sparingly used, are judicious and effective, particularly in drawing attention to the persistent public suspicion of powerful women. The book's structure blends chronological progression with thematic detours, which occasionally disrupt narrative momentum but ultimately serve to enrich the reader's understanding of the social and political world Fulvia inhabited.
Less convincing is the book's occasional tendency toward over-rehabilitation. While Draycott's sympathetic reading of Fulvia's motivations is necessary given the hostile sources, there are moments where the desire to vindicate threatens to overwhelm critical analysis. The argument that Fulvia was an "exemplary Roman matrona" by later Augustan standards may, at times, feel somewhat strained in its reach for historical vindication.
What distinguishes this biography, however, is its refusal to portray Fulvia as either a villain or a heroine. Instead, Draycott presents a woman who was both ambitious and vulnerable, calculating and loyal—a figure shaped not only by the extraordinary pressures of civil war but by the gendered constraints of elite Roman society. This complexity is the book's triumph. Fulvia is neither sanitized nor sensationalized; she is rendered instead with a historian's discernment and a biographer's sensitivity to character.
"Fulvia" represents more than biographical recovery—it's an intervention in how we read hostile historical sources and a model for reconstructing the lives of marginalized figures. Draycott demonstrates that rigorous methodology can coexist with narrative flair and that scholarly rehabilitation need not require lionization.
In rehabilitating Fulvia, Draycott reveals a profound irony: the very qualities that made her enemies revile her—strategic remarriage, fierce loyalty, political calculation—were precisely what Augustus would later demand of Roman women through his Julian Laws. Fulvia's tragedy was not that she broke the rules but that she followed them before her time.
In "Fulvia: The Woman Who Broke All the Rules in Ancient Rome," Jane Draycott offers a revisionist biography that succeeds brilliantly in its methodological transparency. Rather than simply dismissing hostile ancient sources, she demonstrates how to read them against their grain. Draycott's project is ambitious: to "reverse-engineer" Fulvia's life from fragmentary, biased sources and recover a figure who, despite centuries of vilification, wielded genuine influence in a world that officially excluded her from power.
The book's greatest strength lies in its critical engagement with misogynistic historiography. By foregrounding the double standards applied to women who exercised political agency, Draycott deftly contextualizes Fulvia's actions, not as aberrant or unwomanly, but as rational responses to a collapsing social order in which family survival required audacity and pragmatism. This approach succeeds particularly well when examining Fulvia's involvement in the Perusine War and the political aftermath of Clodius's death, reframing her choices not as an emotional excess but as a strategic necessity.
Draycott's prose remains engaging throughout, avoiding jargon without sacrificing intellectual rigor. Her modern analogies, while sparingly used, are judicious and effective, particularly in drawing attention to the persistent public suspicion of powerful women. The book's structure blends chronological progression with thematic detours, which occasionally disrupt narrative momentum but ultimately serve to enrich the reader's understanding of the social and political world Fulvia inhabited.
Less convincing is the book's occasional tendency toward over-rehabilitation. While Draycott's sympathetic reading of Fulvia's motivations is necessary given the hostile sources, there are moments where the desire to vindicate threatens to overwhelm critical analysis. The argument that Fulvia was an "exemplary Roman matrona" by later Augustan standards may, at times, feel somewhat strained in its reach for historical vindication.
What distinguishes this biography, however, is its refusal to portray Fulvia as either a villain or a heroine. Instead, Draycott presents a woman who was both ambitious and vulnerable, calculating and loyal—a figure shaped not only by the extraordinary pressures of civil war but by the gendered constraints of elite Roman society. This complexity is the book's triumph. Fulvia is neither sanitized nor sensationalized; she is rendered instead with a historian's discernment and a biographer's sensitivity to character.
"Fulvia" represents more than biographical recovery—it's an intervention in how we read hostile historical sources and a model for reconstructing the lives of marginalized figures. Draycott demonstrates that rigorous methodology can coexist with narrative flair and that scholarly rehabilitation need not require lionization.
In rehabilitating Fulvia, Draycott reveals a profound irony: the very qualities that made her enemies revile her—strategic remarriage, fierce loyalty, political calculation—were precisely what Augustus would later demand of Roman women through his Julian Laws. Fulvia's tragedy was not that she broke the rules but that she followed them before her time.
August 17, 2025
I was hesitant to pick this book up at first, both because it was a popular history by an author whose previous book I was lukewarm on, and because the subtitle and marketing annoyed me– how is supporting your husband breaking the rules of a patriarchal society?-- but as a Roman matron-obsessed Fulvia enjoyer in a world that seems happy to ignore them, I gave in.
Despite the subtitle, Draycott sides more with the view Schultz expressed in her academic biography of Fulvia by suggesting that she was a traditionally successful matron in many respects (although she does not seem to have convinced her that the “Fulvia” coins were not her), which was refreshing. Also much appreciated was the addition of archaeological and epigraphical evidence. Draycott has more material to work with than with her previous biographical subject, Cleopatra Selene II, but as with a biography of most classical figures, “would have” and “may have” abound. The book also shares some common features of popular history, such as unnecessary modern allusions (i.e mentioning Roman “toxic masculinity” or asides about how sexist descriptions of Fulvia are like those directed at Hillary Clinton), supporting certain theories over others without going into too much detail about why said theory is more plausible, attributing thoughts to historical figures with limited evidence to support them, and lack of rigorous source criticism. Some readers may therefore cringe upon being told that optimates and populares were the two factions in Roman politics, but the general reader who this book is intended for likely has no desire to read a recap of the debate on the subject.
However, I do not feel Draycott is successful in pushing her main thesis, as it were– that Fulvia “clearly wanted more than the normal lot of an elite Roman woman”. This sits uneasily with the main text’s emphasis on how surprisingly conventional Fulvia’s behavior was, and arguments that she prioritized the wellbeing of her family–i.e, exactly what was expected of an elite woman. Although Fulvia’s military activities can be said to be abnormal or transgressive, not only does the book argue that they were in support of Antony anyway, but such behavior may have simply been because of the loosening of gender roles that is often noted to accompany civil strife, rather than an organic part of Fulvia’s aspirations. It is also a bit bizarre how Draycott claims at the end of the book that Fulvia’s worst crime was mutilating Cicero’s head, when by her own account, Fulvia’s alleged role in provoking a war and proscription profiteering seem significantly worse.
Despite these misgivings, this book provides an engaging and empathetic look at the life of a fascinating woman. Readers familiar with the period may not find much new, but the general audience who this book is intended for will probably be well served by it, and hopefully pave the way for more popular explorations of figures outside of popular consciousness.
Despite the subtitle, Draycott sides more with the view Schultz expressed in her academic biography of Fulvia by suggesting that she was a traditionally successful matron in many respects (although she does not seem to have convinced her that the “Fulvia” coins were not her), which was refreshing. Also much appreciated was the addition of archaeological and epigraphical evidence. Draycott has more material to work with than with her previous biographical subject, Cleopatra Selene II, but as with a biography of most classical figures, “would have” and “may have” abound. The book also shares some common features of popular history, such as unnecessary modern allusions (i.e mentioning Roman “toxic masculinity” or asides about how sexist descriptions of Fulvia are like those directed at Hillary Clinton), supporting certain theories over others without going into too much detail about why said theory is more plausible, attributing thoughts to historical figures with limited evidence to support them, and lack of rigorous source criticism. Some readers may therefore cringe upon being told that optimates and populares were the two factions in Roman politics, but the general reader who this book is intended for likely has no desire to read a recap of the debate on the subject.
However, I do not feel Draycott is successful in pushing her main thesis, as it were– that Fulvia “clearly wanted more than the normal lot of an elite Roman woman”. This sits uneasily with the main text’s emphasis on how surprisingly conventional Fulvia’s behavior was, and arguments that she prioritized the wellbeing of her family–i.e, exactly what was expected of an elite woman. Although Fulvia’s military activities can be said to be abnormal or transgressive, not only does the book argue that they were in support of Antony anyway, but such behavior may have simply been because of the loosening of gender roles that is often noted to accompany civil strife, rather than an organic part of Fulvia’s aspirations. It is also a bit bizarre how Draycott claims at the end of the book that Fulvia’s worst crime was mutilating Cicero’s head, when by her own account, Fulvia’s alleged role in provoking a war and proscription profiteering seem significantly worse.
Despite these misgivings, this book provides an engaging and empathetic look at the life of a fascinating woman. Readers familiar with the period may not find much new, but the general audience who this book is intended for will probably be well served by it, and hopefully pave the way for more popular explorations of figures outside of popular consciousness.
April 6, 2025
Sounded very interesting but the first part is a morass of confusion and political correctness run amok; if you are not really familiar with the history of Rome during the end of the republic, statements like page 134 "Antony’s friend Lepidus" (March 15, 44 BC) followed by "Antony entered an alliance with his deadly rivals Octavian and Lepidus" (late 43 BC) on page 141 will be very confusing without any real explanation of how the friend of a few pages and a year ago turned into a deadly enemy - the book provides no such explanation as it happens and that is just one of many such instances where one would be quite confused without knowing the history of the times.
Based on that I almost put the book down and I thought it would be a disaster to the end, but the second part is much better and well-balanced - in her quest for influence and power Fulvia rather than staying in the background, started taking direct action herself and behaving like a male politician of the time directly rather than through proxy, so the monstrosity of such so harped upon before is now toned down and a more historical rather than an ahistorical political correctness 2025 AD approach is taken and the book starts becoming quite good actually, comparable with the author's excellent previous book about Anthony's daughter with Cleopatra who becomes an African Queen eventually under Augustus' rule.
A powerful woman from an aristocratic populist lineage, married with three different but also similar in many ways powerful husbands, all ultimately dying violent deaths, Fulvia was immediately after her premature death, overshadowed by Cleopatra against whom the attacks of the Caesarian establishment dominated by Octavian Augustus were focused, despite that Fulvia was the one who rightly judged his overwhelming ambition, took arms against him and arguably could have defeated him if her male relatives and associates - her brother in law first and foremost - who actually commanded the Antonian forces in Italy and the West were more decisive and would have listened to her rather than dither, hesitate and ultimately fail to act.
Overall a strong ending saves a book that is hesitant, ahistorical, and confused for a good while,
Based on that I almost put the book down and I thought it would be a disaster to the end, but the second part is much better and well-balanced - in her quest for influence and power Fulvia rather than staying in the background, started taking direct action herself and behaving like a male politician of the time directly rather than through proxy, so the monstrosity of such so harped upon before is now toned down and a more historical rather than an ahistorical political correctness 2025 AD approach is taken and the book starts becoming quite good actually, comparable with the author's excellent previous book about Anthony's daughter with Cleopatra who becomes an African Queen eventually under Augustus' rule.
A powerful woman from an aristocratic populist lineage, married with three different but also similar in many ways powerful husbands, all ultimately dying violent deaths, Fulvia was immediately after her premature death, overshadowed by Cleopatra against whom the attacks of the Caesarian establishment dominated by Octavian Augustus were focused, despite that Fulvia was the one who rightly judged his overwhelming ambition, took arms against him and arguably could have defeated him if her male relatives and associates - her brother in law first and foremost - who actually commanded the Antonian forces in Italy and the West were more decisive and would have listened to her rather than dither, hesitate and ultimately fail to act.
Overall a strong ending saves a book that is hesitant, ahistorical, and confused for a good while,
December 8, 2025
I really enjoyed this book. Draycott has a way of reading the sources against the grain to pull out prominent women from the obscurity of history. I actually picked this book up because I've been delving more into learning about ancient history lately, and I enjoyed Draycott's book on Cleopatra's daughter. So, I had no idea that the woman at the heart of this book was actually a contemporary of Cleopatra as well as the second wife of Marc Anthony.
Although Fulvia is the central character that ties all of the information in this book together, Draycott also expands to focus on Fulvia's contemporaries and the lives of Roman women in general before the fall of the Republic. These details provided a great level of detail about all aspects of elite Roman women's lives from birth to death.
Draycott's wit and in-depth writing paint a vivid picture of women who lived 3,000 years ago. The detail and analysis of these women's day-to-day lives and familial relationships also helped to highlight the complex dangers that living in the Roman Empire produced for many families to navigate.
This is a fascinating book and is a must-read for those who love complicated female figures.
CONTENT WARNINGS
Graphic: Gore, Infidelity, Misogyny, Slavery, Violence, Xenophobia, Grief, Murder, Colonisation, War
Moderate: Adult/minor relationship, Toxic relationship, Fire/Fire injury, Toxic friendship
Minor: Child death, Rape, Sexual violence, Pregnancy
Although Fulvia is the central character that ties all of the information in this book together, Draycott also expands to focus on Fulvia's contemporaries and the lives of Roman women in general before the fall of the Republic. These details provided a great level of detail about all aspects of elite Roman women's lives from birth to death.
Draycott's wit and in-depth writing paint a vivid picture of women who lived 3,000 years ago. The detail and analysis of these women's day-to-day lives and familial relationships also helped to highlight the complex dangers that living in the Roman Empire produced for many families to navigate.
This is a fascinating book and is a must-read for those who love complicated female figures.
CONTENT WARNINGS
Graphic: Gore, Infidelity, Misogyny, Slavery, Violence, Xenophobia, Grief, Murder, Colonisation, War
Moderate: Adult/minor relationship, Toxic relationship, Fire/Fire injury, Toxic friendship
Minor: Child death, Rape, Sexual violence, Pregnancy
May 1, 2025
I'm either a) too stupid for this b) lacking any prerequisite knowledge on the Romans and hence immediately lost or c) just tired this week. On the face of it I should have loved this and certainly the cover has not failed to delight me, the problem may have been I just liked looking at the cover. Fulvia is the kind of wee pup I enjoy, she holds a grudge and will stick hairpins into the decapitated heads of her enemies. I imagine she's the sort who would say 'they're dead to me' should they be crossed or a friend of theirs is. Very much a the enemy of my friend is also my enemy. A sentiment I wholeheartedly approve of. I'll read it again once I've read other Roman history books, I just didn't have much of a footing/my addled little brain mostly got distracted by the cover.
June 30, 2025
An accessible and captivating account of the life of a fascinating woman.
I especially loved the way she put her in context, especially when dealing with the daily lives of women at that time. Fulvia was also compared to many other women, showing how they exercised their agency in a misogynistic society.
Some things sadly didn't change (such as throwing sexualized insults as a woman to destroy her reputation). I also really liked the conclusion. People always act all shocked/surprised when women use violent methods against their enemies in societies where such methods were the norm. But Fulvia was simply representative of her times and, as usual, you can find plenty of examples of men who did much, much worse.
I especially loved the way she put her in context, especially when dealing with the daily lives of women at that time. Fulvia was also compared to many other women, showing how they exercised their agency in a misogynistic society.
Some things sadly didn't change (such as throwing sexualized insults as a woman to destroy her reputation). I also really liked the conclusion. People always act all shocked/surprised when women use violent methods against their enemies in societies where such methods were the norm. But Fulvia was simply representative of her times and, as usual, you can find plenty of examples of men who did much, much worse.
May 18, 2025
4,5 stars
After Emma Southon's Agrippina and Honor Cargill-Martin's Messalina, I was so excited to add another entry to my growing collection of biographies of powerful Roman women, and it did not disappoint!
After Emma Southon's Agrippina and Honor Cargill-Martin's Messalina, I was so excited to add another entry to my growing collection of biographies of powerful Roman women, and it did not disappoint!
August 6, 2025
This book showcases the dramatic life of a highly influential (and much maligned) woman living at the time of The Most Interesting Bit of European History In My Opinion - the fall of the Roman Republic. Well researched and very readable! I'm looking forward to recommending it to my students...
August 27, 2025
A lot of guesswork due to the very limited source material we have available on Fulvia, but I admire the attempt to understand one of the few women we have at least some information on from ancient Rome.
September 8, 2025
This was a good book about a historical figure there isn’t much surviving information or written material about. I like how the author encouraged as to look at what we did have with a critical eye, especially because all the surviving information portrayed Fulvia in an extremely bad light. She was clearly an extremely intelligent woman, a supportive mother and wife.
February 12, 2025
Thoroughly enjoyed this book! Well researched and learnt a lot about Fulvia and Roman women. Definitely recommend this book 😁
April 21, 2025
This was really interesting and well researched. I didn't know much about Fulvia herself so this was fun for me..
April 23, 2025
Would love to see this as a tv series or a movie! great story, amazing woman!
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