I'm always devastated to write a poor review for a displaced-out-of-time novel. I won't call this a time travel novel, because it kind of isn't.
The story revolves around Ye Olde Corpsicle of a Roman gladiator who got executed by freezing and swept under the ice in the north sea. The corpsicle gets dug up accidentally by a Stereotypical Mining Crew and is sent off with the Stereotypical Uncaring Geologist. He gets picked up by the Soviet Scientist, revived, and, well, the rest is plot.
Okay, so, honestly, pretty cool. I love reading about time displaced people, whether from the future or the past, and this concept of a Roman waking up in modern society and trying to adjust to just... this whole thing, could be really well done. Unfortunately it's just not. The writing style while occasionally rising to the, pardon me, occasion, mostly remains thoroughly telegraphic and, frankly, occasionally more than a little odd.
But the real problem being with the characters. Exhibit one you have the Indifferent Texan Geologist. He is so indifferent it takes a literal signed paper to make him take a body to a city in a snowmobile. He spends the entire book being a Texan who Cannot Possibly Be Educated, and everybody else somehow buys into that, because apparently there were no doctorate holders from Texas in the 1970s. Sure, the Texan Cowboy hick stereotype was pervasive, but even the biggest holders of it, and people from abroad, are generally aware that Texas had cities, and even the occasional university. It seems odd, instead of making this a thing that comes up occasionally, to dedicate the entire character to this.
Exhibit two is the perv doctor, which is a much bigger issue. I get the book was published in 1978 - and, mind you, it was not published in 1878, or even 1958 - but the oversexed caricature of the doctor who spends his days molesting women, sleeping with women, harassing women who clearly don't want to be harassed, and somehow coming off as charming (well, in the author's mind) while doing it. Honestly, the doctor isn't even the only gender issue portrayal in this book that is a problem. All the nurses under his command, somehow, are women. Every single one. This is so blatant that the author, in what I hope is a moment of self-realization, makes a bit of a joke of it when the Roman character comments on the large number of female slaves the physician owns.
Then there is Sister Olav, who is supposed to be a super-genius with a declined doctorate from Oxford at 21 (I wish!) but who comes off, to be honest, as rather insane. It's also a bit hard to credit that in the entire area of Oslo there was not a single other person capable of identifying classical Latin. Oslo has a university (or two, or three, I don't remember) and they have classics and linguistics departments. Why do we need one nun who for most of the book wants nothing to do with it? There is a level at which a reluctant hero is plausible, and the plot needs them, and then there is a level where we say 'okay, we'll get someone else who can identify an ancient language.' She is described as a stuck up prude on the one hand, and as so impulsive she literally has memory blankouts on the other. A woman, in other words. And when this so-called genius comes up with potential names for our trio to use in the presence of their captive Roman, to give him the illusion of normalcy, what does she come up with? Semyonus, Lewus and Olava!
Seriously, writer? Seriously? Yes, let's add the already obligatory nominative suffix to their names and talk about how we've Romanized them. Surely you could come up with something a little better than that! Let me help you out - the Russian name Semyon is a derivative of Simeon, or Simon, a name that would have been recognized as a Jewish name already in Rome, and would therefore have been entirely usable in that form. Llywellyn and Olav are a bit harder, granted, but surely something more creative could happen to them.
Of course, the entire research portrayed in the book is characterized by the same kind of slapdash sloppiness. Apparently, the characters taking care of our Roman are so busy reading epic Latin poetry that they can't even bother to research the Roman diet, beyond what odd notions they already have, or at the very least take the Mediterranean diet, substract the America-originating foods like tomatoes, and go from there. Some olives, anyone? Citrus, maybe? Most f the ancient Roman diet should be at least vaguely resembling of the locally-sourced Italian diet, it's not that hard. I doubt a Roman would fall from his lounging couch at the sight of a piece of steak, to be honest. Oh and by the way, they'd recognize lettuce - the Egyptians had it.
Likewise I doubt that a Roman would confuse science - from a Latin word, by the way, meaning knowledge, not that hard to parse - with a deity and declare that it needed to be worshipped. And look, I get it, it's supposed to be a parody mirror of our weird, sexually repressed, science-worshipping, modern times. I'm not entirely stupid, I get 'author intent' but to be successful with parody, the parody has to be done right. Parodies and satires are actually harder to write, not easier, than straight stories. To show a satire of our times requires an accurate representation of our times, an accurate representation of the patterns of thought and behavior of the person from earlier times, and a precise, razor-sharp way of writing the one to explain the other. This book has neither one, nor the other, nor the third.
And on a personal note, it would be really nice if a book about time travel and Rome - or anything and Rome - was not, for a change, about Christianity, and it would be nice if anyone ever (except Feuchtwanger, have a gold star, Feuchtwanger) had Jewish characters who were not proto-Nazarenes. Just FYI, early Christianity didn't really enjoy a lot of success in Jewish circles, that's why Paul had to turn to gentiles to find converts in the first place. It would be nice to get a Rome-themed book that was not about Jesus.