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The Cleansing
Based on a true story, this is not the enlightened Rome of myth. This is a city choking on fear, where blood flows on both the battlefield and altar, and where generals and politicians alike are desperate to appease rageful gods.
When 50,000 Romans fall in a single day at the Battle of Cannae, priests claim there can be only one reason the gods abandoned a Vestal Virgin has broken her vow of chastity. And they accuse Opimia (Mia), the strongest, most defiant of the six sacred Vestal priestesses.
Forced as a child into serving Vesta, the goddess of fire, Mia has always chafed against Rome’s control of her every move—especially after being separated from her childhood love, Attius. Now, accused of a crime she did not commit, she must defend herself in a hostile court to avoid being buried alive for her “crime.”
Betrayed by the high priestess, hunted by Rome’s political and religious elite, Mia must either accept her fate — or join with the Sybil of Cumae to expose the truth behind a world built on superstition, fear, and lies.
A story of personal awakening amid public catastrophe, The Cleansing is a haunting journey through a city at war with itself — and a woman who risks everything to survive it.
“Shocking, searing and all too timely.”
Kate Quinn
"Excellent and very evocative."
Ben Kane
When 50,000 Romans fall in a single day at the Battle of Cannae, priests claim there can be only one reason the gods abandoned a Vestal Virgin has broken her vow of chastity. And they accuse Opimia (Mia), the strongest, most defiant of the six sacred Vestal priestesses.
Forced as a child into serving Vesta, the goddess of fire, Mia has always chafed against Rome’s control of her every move—especially after being separated from her childhood love, Attius. Now, accused of a crime she did not commit, she must defend herself in a hostile court to avoid being buried alive for her “crime.”
Betrayed by the high priestess, hunted by Rome’s political and religious elite, Mia must either accept her fate — or join with the Sybil of Cumae to expose the truth behind a world built on superstition, fear, and lies.
A story of personal awakening amid public catastrophe, The Cleansing is a haunting journey through a city at war with itself — and a woman who risks everything to survive it.
“Shocking, searing and all too timely.”
Kate Quinn
"Excellent and very evocative."
Ben Kane
314 pages, Kindle Edition
Published January 20, 2026
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322 people want to read
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February 8, 2026
I write this review as a member of Rosie’s Book Review Team (author, check here if you are interested in getting your book reviewed) and thank her and the author for this opportunity.
This is my first experience of reading one of this author’s novels, and I was impressed by the story and how vividly she recreates what life in Ancient Rome must have been like, especially for the protagonist, a Vestal Virgin called Opimia (Mia). Those who have the notion of Ancient Rome being an enlightened and civilised empire are likely to be horrified by much of what happens in the novel, which is based on real events, although it is a work of historical fiction. The author adds several sections at the end that I recommend reading, as they include an author’s note where she explains why she thought the story was so important in this day and age (and there are many thoughts and ideas expressed in the book that could be easily applied to some of the events we’re experiencing at the moment and some of the “reasoning” behind them); a collection of historical notes about the real historical events behind the novel (that takes place during the Second Punic War, in 216 BCE Rome); a list of real historical characters that are featured in the story; and a fascinating section on ‘Strange but true facts about Ancient Rome in this novel’ where we can find topics such as female virginity, blood sacrifices/relationship with the Gods, human sacrifices, Prodigia, among others that I won’t mention because they might reveal too many details about the plot. Alvear also mentions the sources of her information; there is a section of acknowledgements, and a map of the Roman Forum, where much of the action takes place.
The novel starts with a warning about the content, and I think readers must indeed be warned that this is no genteel historical fiction. It starts with a bloody and horrendous battle that we live up close and personal (the Battle at Cannae), and the horrors do not stop here. The Roman defeat and the great loss of lives (an estimated 50000 men) in that battle created terror in Rome, as they feared Hannibal’s army and his next move. Somebody had to be blamed for that loss, and their belief in the supernatural meant the explanation had to be that somebody had done something that had enraged the Gods, and they had to pay for it to ensure Rome’s safety. Animal sacrifices and the usual rituals were not enough.
We follow Mia, the youngest of the six Vestal Virgins in Rome at the time, as she goes about her duties, and through no fault of her own, she gets accused of being the reason behind the defeat at the battle. She knows she hasn’t done what she is accused of, being impure (she was taken into the service of Vesta at age 6 and has never known a man), but nobody is interested in hearing her side of the story. Although she manages to secure a trial of sorts, she eventually realises that everybody is conspiring to ensure she is made an example of and ‘the cleansing’ of the title takes place.
Although Mia is a real historical character, there is little known about any of the individual Vestal Virgins, and that gives the author a chance to turn her into a fascinating character, with doubts about religion but also very influenced by all she has been taught. She is a rebel at heart but tries to obey and behave as expected to avoid something terrible happening to Rome and the Roman people. We learn about her past experiences through flashbacks where she (her story is told in the first-person) remembers specific moments of her life, and by the end of the novel we have quite a clear picture, not only of what she is like, but also of what life must have been like for these women, who, in the best of cases, had to serve for thirty years from a very young age and live a very restricted existence. If they were unlucky, they might end up flogged and buried alive. What a bargain!
You will have to read the novel to appreciate how things worked and the process she goes through until she realises that much of what passes for truth, religious belief, and rituals have been manipulated and doctored by those in power to control the masses.
Apart from Mia, whose stubbornness could be frustrating at times, there were other characters I loved as well, like Kete, her servant, an Egyptian woman who is brave and intelligent; Prisca, a childhood friend who keeps in contact with Mia and tries to help her; Atticus, another childhood friend and a bit more than that; Floronia, another young Vestal Virgin and the one closest to Mia; the wonderful Sybil of Cumae (my favourite), and Useless, the dog. Of course, there are some horrible characters as well, but I’d rather not talk too much about them.
I have already mentioned the way the author createsa vivid portrayal of Mia’s life and the life led by the Roman citizens at the time. The book is full of small details that bring it to life, from dresses and hairstyles, to customs, traditions, food, drink, laws, and everyday routines. This is not a fast-paced novel, as it takes its time to build up enough understanding of the way the religion and the society of the time worked to ensure we fully appreciate the change in Mia’s beliefs and the arc her character experiences. That doesn’t mean the story is not gripping, because it is full of fascinating scenes inhabited by characters who won’t leave anybody indifferent.
Although the ending doesn’t feel particularly realistic, considering what happens in the rest of the story, it is satisfying. I think most readers will be happy with it. And the author explains why she chose this ending as well.
A fascinating novel that feels particularly relevant now. I kept highlighting quotes and sections that spoke to me loud and clear, and I know it’s a story that will stay with me for a long time. I recommend it to readers interested in this historical period and to readers of historical fiction in general, as long as they take into account the author’s warning about the violent and extreme content.
This is my first experience of reading one of this author’s novels, and I was impressed by the story and how vividly she recreates what life in Ancient Rome must have been like, especially for the protagonist, a Vestal Virgin called Opimia (Mia). Those who have the notion of Ancient Rome being an enlightened and civilised empire are likely to be horrified by much of what happens in the novel, which is based on real events, although it is a work of historical fiction. The author adds several sections at the end that I recommend reading, as they include an author’s note where she explains why she thought the story was so important in this day and age (and there are many thoughts and ideas expressed in the book that could be easily applied to some of the events we’re experiencing at the moment and some of the “reasoning” behind them); a collection of historical notes about the real historical events behind the novel (that takes place during the Second Punic War, in 216 BCE Rome); a list of real historical characters that are featured in the story; and a fascinating section on ‘Strange but true facts about Ancient Rome in this novel’ where we can find topics such as female virginity, blood sacrifices/relationship with the Gods, human sacrifices, Prodigia, among others that I won’t mention because they might reveal too many details about the plot. Alvear also mentions the sources of her information; there is a section of acknowledgements, and a map of the Roman Forum, where much of the action takes place.
The novel starts with a warning about the content, and I think readers must indeed be warned that this is no genteel historical fiction. It starts with a bloody and horrendous battle that we live up close and personal (the Battle at Cannae), and the horrors do not stop here. The Roman defeat and the great loss of lives (an estimated 50000 men) in that battle created terror in Rome, as they feared Hannibal’s army and his next move. Somebody had to be blamed for that loss, and their belief in the supernatural meant the explanation had to be that somebody had done something that had enraged the Gods, and they had to pay for it to ensure Rome’s safety. Animal sacrifices and the usual rituals were not enough.
We follow Mia, the youngest of the six Vestal Virgins in Rome at the time, as she goes about her duties, and through no fault of her own, she gets accused of being the reason behind the defeat at the battle. She knows she hasn’t done what she is accused of, being impure (she was taken into the service of Vesta at age 6 and has never known a man), but nobody is interested in hearing her side of the story. Although she manages to secure a trial of sorts, she eventually realises that everybody is conspiring to ensure she is made an example of and ‘the cleansing’ of the title takes place.
Although Mia is a real historical character, there is little known about any of the individual Vestal Virgins, and that gives the author a chance to turn her into a fascinating character, with doubts about religion but also very influenced by all she has been taught. She is a rebel at heart but tries to obey and behave as expected to avoid something terrible happening to Rome and the Roman people. We learn about her past experiences through flashbacks where she (her story is told in the first-person) remembers specific moments of her life, and by the end of the novel we have quite a clear picture, not only of what she is like, but also of what life must have been like for these women, who, in the best of cases, had to serve for thirty years from a very young age and live a very restricted existence. If they were unlucky, they might end up flogged and buried alive. What a bargain!
You will have to read the novel to appreciate how things worked and the process she goes through until she realises that much of what passes for truth, religious belief, and rituals have been manipulated and doctored by those in power to control the masses.
Apart from Mia, whose stubbornness could be frustrating at times, there were other characters I loved as well, like Kete, her servant, an Egyptian woman who is brave and intelligent; Prisca, a childhood friend who keeps in contact with Mia and tries to help her; Atticus, another childhood friend and a bit more than that; Floronia, another young Vestal Virgin and the one closest to Mia; the wonderful Sybil of Cumae (my favourite), and Useless, the dog. Of course, there are some horrible characters as well, but I’d rather not talk too much about them.
I have already mentioned the way the author createsa vivid portrayal of Mia’s life and the life led by the Roman citizens at the time. The book is full of small details that bring it to life, from dresses and hairstyles, to customs, traditions, food, drink, laws, and everyday routines. This is not a fast-paced novel, as it takes its time to build up enough understanding of the way the religion and the society of the time worked to ensure we fully appreciate the change in Mia’s beliefs and the arc her character experiences. That doesn’t mean the story is not gripping, because it is full of fascinating scenes inhabited by characters who won’t leave anybody indifferent.
Although the ending doesn’t feel particularly realistic, considering what happens in the rest of the story, it is satisfying. I think most readers will be happy with it. And the author explains why she chose this ending as well.
A fascinating novel that feels particularly relevant now. I kept highlighting quotes and sections that spoke to me loud and clear, and I know it’s a story that will stay with me for a long time. I recommend it to readers interested in this historical period and to readers of historical fiction in general, as long as they take into account the author’s warning about the violent and extreme content.
January 20, 2026
"A frightened people will always side with the powerful, if they believe the powerful will protect them in some way. Even when they actively hurt them. The promise of safety and protection was more potent than the strongest poppy tincture. If I dashed their hope, they would turn on me like maenads on Orpheus."
“The Cleansing” by Victoria Alvear is a powerful and unsettling work of historical fiction, based on a true story, that immerses the reader in Ancient Rome at a moment of collective trauma and moral collapse. Set in the aftermath of the catastrophic defeat at Cannae in 216 BCE, the novel explores how a civilisation responds when its faith, identity, and sense of divine favour are shattered.
From the opening battlefield scenes, the novel is uncompromising in its realism. The chaos, terror, and brutality of war are rendered with striking immediacy, placing the reader shoulder to shoulder with Roman soldiers as Hannibal’s forces close in. These scenes do more than depict violence; they establish the emotional devastation that ripples through Rome long after the fighting ends. Loss is not confined to the battlefield—it permeates every ritual, every decision, and every whispered fear within the city.
At the heart of the story is Mia, a Vestal Virgin bound by sacred duty in a society governed by fear of divine retribution. Through her eyes, the reader is drawn into the ritualised world of Roman religion—the October Horse, the sacred fire of Vesta, and the ominous authority of the Sibylline Books. Alvear deftly reveals how faith, when combined with political expediency, becomes a dangerous instrument. Most chilling of all is the ever-present fear of being accused of crimen incestum, a threat that hangs over the Vestals like a blade, shaping their every action and thought.
What makes “The Cleansing” especially compelling is its intellectual depth. The novel weaves philosophical reflection into the narrative, quietly challenging notions of divine justice, fate, and moral responsibility. The tension between belief and reason, obedience and conscience, is ever-present, giving the story a resonance that extends far beyond its historical setting.
As a reader, I found this novel deeply moving. I was completely drawn into its world, feeling the weight of Rome’s grief and panic as though it were my own. The fear that grips the city after Cannae felt suffocating, and I could not help but empathise with a society desperate for answers and lost in grief.
The novel also casts an unflinching light on the treatment of women and the powerless during this period. Grief itself becomes regulated, as women are arrested for breaking the law by crying or wailing in public when they realise that husbands, sons, or brothers have died. Their sorrow is treated not as a natural human response but as a threat to order, silenced in the name of control. These moments quietly but powerfully underscore how suffering was managed, contained, and punished when it challenged authority.
I felt the relentless pressure bearing down on Mia, the constant vigilance demanded in a world where the gods had been weaponised and even the smallest perceived misstep could cause divine provocation, their anger believed capable of raining devastation down upon Rome itself. That crushing responsibility reshaped faith into fear and devotion into an act of survival. Reading Mia’s experiences filled me with both anger and sorrow—anger at how readily innocence can be sacrificed to preserve order, and sorrow at how easily injustice is accepted when it is cloaked in the promise of protection.
This is one of those novels that lingers. I found myself returning again and again to its themes: fear as a tool of power, faith as both refuge and prison, and the devastating cost of being reduced to a symbol rather than recognised as human. “The Cleansing” challenged me, unsettled me, and impressed me with its courage and intelligence. It is a beautifully written, thought-provoking novel that I wholeheartedly give five stars and highly recommend to lovers of immersive, serious historical fiction.
Review by Mary Anne Yare
The Coffee Pot Book Club
“The Cleansing” by Victoria Alvear is a powerful and unsettling work of historical fiction, based on a true story, that immerses the reader in Ancient Rome at a moment of collective trauma and moral collapse. Set in the aftermath of the catastrophic defeat at Cannae in 216 BCE, the novel explores how a civilisation responds when its faith, identity, and sense of divine favour are shattered.
From the opening battlefield scenes, the novel is uncompromising in its realism. The chaos, terror, and brutality of war are rendered with striking immediacy, placing the reader shoulder to shoulder with Roman soldiers as Hannibal’s forces close in. These scenes do more than depict violence; they establish the emotional devastation that ripples through Rome long after the fighting ends. Loss is not confined to the battlefield—it permeates every ritual, every decision, and every whispered fear within the city.
At the heart of the story is Mia, a Vestal Virgin bound by sacred duty in a society governed by fear of divine retribution. Through her eyes, the reader is drawn into the ritualised world of Roman religion—the October Horse, the sacred fire of Vesta, and the ominous authority of the Sibylline Books. Alvear deftly reveals how faith, when combined with political expediency, becomes a dangerous instrument. Most chilling of all is the ever-present fear of being accused of crimen incestum, a threat that hangs over the Vestals like a blade, shaping their every action and thought.
What makes “The Cleansing” especially compelling is its intellectual depth. The novel weaves philosophical reflection into the narrative, quietly challenging notions of divine justice, fate, and moral responsibility. The tension between belief and reason, obedience and conscience, is ever-present, giving the story a resonance that extends far beyond its historical setting.
As a reader, I found this novel deeply moving. I was completely drawn into its world, feeling the weight of Rome’s grief and panic as though it were my own. The fear that grips the city after Cannae felt suffocating, and I could not help but empathise with a society desperate for answers and lost in grief.
The novel also casts an unflinching light on the treatment of women and the powerless during this period. Grief itself becomes regulated, as women are arrested for breaking the law by crying or wailing in public when they realise that husbands, sons, or brothers have died. Their sorrow is treated not as a natural human response but as a threat to order, silenced in the name of control. These moments quietly but powerfully underscore how suffering was managed, contained, and punished when it challenged authority.
I felt the relentless pressure bearing down on Mia, the constant vigilance demanded in a world where the gods had been weaponised and even the smallest perceived misstep could cause divine provocation, their anger believed capable of raining devastation down upon Rome itself. That crushing responsibility reshaped faith into fear and devotion into an act of survival. Reading Mia’s experiences filled me with both anger and sorrow—anger at how readily innocence can be sacrificed to preserve order, and sorrow at how easily injustice is accepted when it is cloaked in the promise of protection.
This is one of those novels that lingers. I found myself returning again and again to its themes: fear as a tool of power, faith as both refuge and prison, and the devastating cost of being reduced to a symbol rather than recognised as human. “The Cleansing” challenged me, unsettled me, and impressed me with its courage and intelligence. It is a beautifully written, thought-provoking novel that I wholeheartedly give five stars and highly recommend to lovers of immersive, serious historical fiction.
Review by Mary Anne Yare
The Coffee Pot Book Club
January 22, 2026
The Cleansing is a gripping and unflinching work of historical fiction that strips ancient Rome of its marble idealism and exposes a society ruled by fear, superstition, and political convenience.
Set in the aftermath of the catastrophic Battle of Cannae, the novel centers on Opimia—Mia—a Vestal Virgin accused of violating her sacred vows in order to explain Rome’s military disaster. Victoria Alvear grounds the story in historical terror rather than mythic grandeur, portraying a city desperate for scapegoats and willing to sacrifice innocence to restore a sense of control.
Mia is a compelling and forceful protagonist. Taken from her childhood and denied agency in both body and future, she embodies the tension between institutional power and personal autonomy. Her struggle to defend herself in a hostile religious court carries genuine suspense, sharpened by the ever-present threat of being buried alive a punishment rendered with chilling restraint.
What distinguishes The Cleansing is its exploration of how religion, politics, and gender intersect to preserve authority. Betrayal from within the Vestal order and the manipulation of public fear reveal a Rome at war with itself, where truth is less valuable than appeasing the gods and the mob. The inclusion of the Sybil of Cumae deepens the novel’s philosophical weight, offering an alternative to blind obedience without romanticizing rebellion.
Written with clarity, urgency, and emotional depth, The Cleansing is both a personal story of awakening and a broader meditation on how societies justify cruelty in times of crisis. It will resonate strongly with readers of historical fiction who appreciate moral complexity, resilient female protagonists, and narratives that feel unsettlingly relevant.
Set in the aftermath of the catastrophic Battle of Cannae, the novel centers on Opimia—Mia—a Vestal Virgin accused of violating her sacred vows in order to explain Rome’s military disaster. Victoria Alvear grounds the story in historical terror rather than mythic grandeur, portraying a city desperate for scapegoats and willing to sacrifice innocence to restore a sense of control.
Mia is a compelling and forceful protagonist. Taken from her childhood and denied agency in both body and future, she embodies the tension between institutional power and personal autonomy. Her struggle to defend herself in a hostile religious court carries genuine suspense, sharpened by the ever-present threat of being buried alive a punishment rendered with chilling restraint.
What distinguishes The Cleansing is its exploration of how religion, politics, and gender intersect to preserve authority. Betrayal from within the Vestal order and the manipulation of public fear reveal a Rome at war with itself, where truth is less valuable than appeasing the gods and the mob. The inclusion of the Sybil of Cumae deepens the novel’s philosophical weight, offering an alternative to blind obedience without romanticizing rebellion.
Written with clarity, urgency, and emotional depth, The Cleansing is both a personal story of awakening and a broader meditation on how societies justify cruelty in times of crisis. It will resonate strongly with readers of historical fiction who appreciate moral complexity, resilient female protagonists, and narratives that feel unsettlingly relevant.
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