I was eleven or twelve when I first came across Mark Antony in a Classics Illustrated comic book of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. And this being a comic book with a one-dimensional set of characters, a child naturally leans to sympathy for Caesar and scorn for the assassins, whose motives were never fleshed out (much later, having read a few books on Julius Caesar, their motives remain convoluted). It also follows that I took Marc Antony's moving eulogy ("Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears...") as gospel, historical truth. Many years and a couple of books on the Roman Empire later, and disgust has replaced my admiration for the boor.
Adrian Goldsworthy was able to write an informative and compelling enough book on Antony and Cleopatra in spite of limited historical and literary material to work with. The sibling-marrying-and killing Ptolomies were Macedonians, not Egyptians. And for romantics who continue to perceive Antony and Cleopatra as star-crossed lovers, know that Goldsworthy unmasks them for the manipulative opportunists they were. The partnership was anchored primarily on expediency and greed, passion secondary. After the death of her protector Julius Caesar, Cleopatra, a product of Macedonian generations of incestuous unions, replete with fratricide, sororicide, uxoricide, and mariticide--needed continued Roman support to secure Egypt from invaders, interlopers, and Alexandria home court uprisings. Enter Antony, given to excess and braggadocio, triumvir of Rome, invited to plunder, carte blanche, Alexandria and a willing queen. Goldsworthy also sheds light on Cleopatra's children with Antony, a subject I was most curious about after reading a snippet from an earlier book, which only mentioned she had twins, a boy and a girl, with Antony. The twins were named Alexander Helios and Cleopatra Selene II, who went on to become queen of Mauretania. And they had a third child, Ptolemy Philadelphos. All three survived Cleopatra, who, contrary to Hollywood's Antony and Cleopatra, had actually survived Antony's death by a week; Goldsworthy seems to feel the jury is still out whether Cleopatra and her two slaves died from an asp's sting, a cobra's bite, or poison.
In most non-fiction and especially historical fiction I've read, I tend to stumble on to something redeemable in the subject, whether this may go into explaining the character's motives and behavior, which history had long since labeled despicable. An example would be the oft-vilified Henry VIII. But I felt no spark of sentiment for these two: For Anthony, not after Actium. Ditto for Cleopatra, whose every move epitomized the inbred Ptolemies.
Lastly, I've always found the Julius Caesar-Cleopatra love team more intriguing. This book validates my sentiments.