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The Etruscans: A Captivating Guide to the Etruscan Civilization of Ancient Italy That Preceded the Roman Republic
If you want to discover the captivating history of the Etruscans, then keep reading... Free History BONUS Inside! The importance of the Etruscans can be traced back to Rome. The Roman Republic, and later the Roman Empire, was an unusual conqueror because it would absorb and assimilate elements of the cultures it dominated. A standing practice was to allow the defeated to continue practicing their culture and religion so long as they paid their taxes on time. Such a procedure was part of why Christianity would seep into the Roman Empire around the 1st century CE, for example. For the Etruscans, this meant they influenced aspects of Roman civilization, one of the most powerful cultures in the history of the Western world. The word “Rome” is Etruscan in origin as are the names of its mythological founders “Remus” and “Romulus.” Several of the Roman creation myths centered on branches of the Etruscans breaking off to found Rome, and Rome itself used to be a part of Etruscan civilization before it broke away and started to develop its own society. When the Etruscans were absorbed, elements of their culture, language, and religion would seep into Roman practice. Before their assimilation, the Etruscans gifted Rome with much of its political science and technology. Through the Etruscans, the Romans developed monarchy, walls, drainage systems, and the powerful forum. The Etruscans shouldn’t only be studied as the influencer of Rome, but it is the connection through which most individuals have heard of their illustrious civilization. Other interesting developments of the Etruscans were their flamboyant fashion, complex political structure, urban planning, and fatalistic religion. As the reader of this volume, check and see where the Etruscans sound similar to the Romans but also interpret what made the Etruscans unique, what rings of assimilation of other cultures like the Greeks, and determine whether it was possible for the Etruscans to avoid their fate against the Romans during the 1st century BCE. In The A Captivating Guide to the Etruscan Civilization of Ancient Italy That Preceded the Roman Republic, you will discover topics such as Politics, Government, and Social StructureHow an Individual LivedThe Origin of the EtruscansThe Etruscan Orientation, c. 600-400 BCEThe Roman Conquest, c. 400-20 BCEMythology and ReligionArt and MusicThe Etruscan Language and WritingArchitectureSurviving Text and LiteratureAnd much, much more!So if you want to learn more about the Etruscans, scroll up and click the "add to cart" button!
- GenresHistoryItalyNonfiction
118 pages, Kindle Edition
Published May 4, 2019
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
December 18, 2025
In the crowded aisle of popular history – where ancient peoples are often packaged as puzzles, prophecies, or preludes to someone else’s greatness – “The Etruscans: A Captivating Guide to the Etruscan Civilization of Ancient Italy That Preceded the Roman Republic” arrives with a refreshing, almost humble ambition: to be useful. It wants to orient the uninitiated reader without scolding them for being uninitiated. It wants to make the Etruscans legible without turning them into a gimmick. And it asks, with a practical seriousness, the questions that anyone curious about Etruria is likely to ask about first.
That practicality is the book’s clearest virtue. The author writes with introductory confidence, moving from politics to domestic life to origins, then outward into Etruscan power in the wider Mediterranean, and finally toward absorption into Rome – not the apocalyptic collapse so many ancient histories prefer, but the slower, administrative ending that is more often the truth. The chapter design is tidy and pedagogical: each section chooses a domain of life and explains what to look for, what evidence survives, and what conclusions can reasonably be drawn from that evidence. The reader is rarely left wondering what the next stop on the itinerary will be.
The voice helps. It is plainspoken and direct, occasionally punctuated by rhetorical questions that keep the reader leaning forward. This is not a book that builds authority through flourish; it builds it through clarity. The prose rarely calls attention to itself, and that modesty is part of the project. If you prefer history that sounds like a skilled museum docent – confident, well-paced, aware of what you can’t see as well as what you can – the tone will feel familiar. You are not being asked to admire the author’s mind so much as to follow the author’s map.
At its best, the book captivates by clarifying. Etruscan society emerges as a constellation of city-states rather than a single empire, and the consequences of that arrangement are not merely stated but made intuitive. A reader begins to understand why “the Etruscans” can be both a coherent cultural category and a frustratingly decentralized historical actor. The discussion of governance and hierarchy returns to a crucial linkage: authority is intertwined with ritual competence. Power is not merely held; it is performed, justified, and stabilized through sanctioned practice. The book’s emphasis on this point gives Etruscan politics a texture that is more than a list of names and dates.
The chapter on daily life extends the same clarity into the domestic. Without drowning in detail, the author sketches the texture of ordinary existence: the household as a unit of identity and work, the visible markers of class, the rhythms of agriculture and craft, and the role of trade in shaping what people could own and desire. The book acknowledges the archaeological reality that what survives often belongs to elites, and yet it resists reducing Etruria to nothing but tombs and banquets. When it does describe feasting scenes and displays of leisure, it treats them as evidence – of social structure, of values, of the way a community chose to remember itself – rather than as exotic decoration.
If the book has a signature pleasure, it is the way it repeatedly translates the Etruscans from “mysterious” to “legible.” It does this partly by refusing to treat cultural exchange as contamination. The Etruscans were not hermits. They traded, adapted, borrowed, and refined. Greek influence in art and writing is presented not as proof of dependence but as evidence of Mediterranean entanglement. The Etruscans, in this telling, are neither purely indigenous nor purely imported; they are a people formed through contact as well as continuity. That framing matters, because it steers the reader away from the false choice between “origin myth” and “cultural imitation” and toward a more realistic view of how ancient societies actually behaved.
This approach is particularly helpful when the book addresses origins. Ancient testimonies are treated as testimonies, not as final verdicts. Archaeology is treated as a patient archive, offering continuity in some places and ambiguity in others. The author’s refusal to grandstand is welcome. In a subject area where romantic theories can be seductive, the book prefers a calmer stance: here is what has been argued, here is what the material record can support, and here is what remains contested. That restraint, even when it leaves some readers wanting a punchier story, is a form of honesty.
And yet, the same qualities that make the book an inviting entry point also limit its reach. The prose is direct, sometimes to the point of being merely serviceable. It prefers the declarative to the exploratory. Sentences move quickly, stacking fact upon fact, and when interpretation arrives it is often delivered as a conclusion rather than as an argument you can watch unfold. You are told what to think more often than you are shown how scholars arrived there, or what it would mean to disagree. That is not a flaw in a guidebook, exactly. But it does shape the reading experience: the book informs more often than it compels.
This matters most in the chapters where uncertainty is not a problem to be solved but part of the story’s meaning. The Etruscan language is a case in point. Here is a civilization that wrote, that labeled, that inscribed its dead and dedicated its offerings – and yet remains only partially audible. The book explains the predicament cleanly: many short texts, few long ones, enough to reconstruct some grammar and vocabulary but not enough to recover a full literary world. What the chapter cannot quite convey, because the book’s overall pace is so brisk, is the emotional weight of that predicament: the humbling sense that a culture can leave abundant traces and still withhold its voice.
Religion, too, is handled more as system than as experience. Divination is presented as central, ritual as the dominant logic, priestly expertise as a civic technology. This is accurate as far as it goes, and the book is right to emphasize that Etruscan religion was not a private hobby but a public framework for decision-making. Yet the gods can become functions and the priests can become technicians. What recedes is the interiority that ritual so often encodes: fear, hope, gratitude, dread, the desire to be protected, the suspicion that the world is readable if only you learn the proper methods. The Etruscans do not need to be turned into mystics to be vivid; they simply need to be allowed a fuller range of human motives than a schematic treatment can easily supply.
The historical chapters – the period of Etruscan strength and the long Roman conquest – are where the book most resembles a guided tour. Phases are arranged to keep the reader oriented, and the basic arc is sound: a culture flourishing through city-states, trade, and technological skill, then gradually constricted under the pressure of Rome’s expanding power. The author is admirably clear that absorption was slow. Etruria’s ending is not one cinematic moment but a process of treaties, sieges, administrative changes, and cultural negotiation that stretches over generations. This is one of the book’s most salutary instincts: it refuses to treat conquest as an instant switch from “before” to “after.”
Here the author also makes one of the book’s most valuable points: political defeat does not equal cultural disappearance. Rome learned from the Etruscans even as it conquered them. Civic symbols, ritual practices, engineering habits, and artistic forms persisted, often repurposed into the Roman project. The book’s repeated emphasis on this inheritance is a useful corrective to the older habit of treating Etruria as an archaeological curiosity – an intriguing dead end rather than a formative neighbor. The claim that influence survives conquest is not merely consoling; it is historically plausible, and the book makes it accessible.
Still, this is also where the framing can feel overly Roman, even when it is trying not to be. The Etruscans are frequently described through their relationship to Rome: what they gave, what Rome took, what Rome inherited. That is historically unavoidable to a point – Rome is the engine of the conquest narrative – but it risks reproducing the imbalance the book aims to counter. The Etruscans sometimes seem to exist in these pages in order to become Roman, and the reader may find themselves wanting more sustained attention to Etruscan self-definition: what internal conflicts mattered, what local variations shaped belief and practice, what a city’s identity looked like when Rome was not the implied endpoint.
The chapters on art, music, and architecture offer the most immediate corrective because they return the reader to what the Etruscans made. Here the book benefits from the concreteness of objects. Tomb paintings, terracotta figures, bronze work, temple layouts, and city drainage systems are not abstract claims but surviving solutions to practical and spiritual problems. The author is effective at showing how Etruscan temple form differs from Greek models, and at tracing the ways Etruscan craft and engineering anticipate later Roman developments. These chapters do not require the reader to trust an ancient historian’s testimony; they allow the reader to trust the stubborn materiality of what remains.
Yet even here, the speed can feel like a missed opportunity. Etruscan art is described as expressive and narrative, attentive to social scenes and movement. But art is also a civilization looking at itself. It is comfort, aspiration, propaganda, and memory. A banquet scene is an argument about what a good life looks like. A tomb built like a house is a thesis about continuity. The book gestures toward these interpretive possibilities, but it rarely pauses long enough to let a single object complicate the narrative. The reader receives the classification when they may also want the encounter.
One of the more intriguing threads the book touches – and could have developed further – is the social visibility of women in Etruscan representation. The author notes this difference without turning it into a simplistic moral lesson, which is to the book’s credit. Still, the point deserves more nuance than an introductory survey can fully supply. Visibility in art is not the same as equality in law, and public presence can coexist with restriction. Even so, the mere fact that the book marks the issue at all signals its broader goal: to use Etruria as a way of complicating what readers think they already know about ancient Italy.
There is also the question of evidence and argument. Popular history lives or dies by how it handles sources, and this book’s method is to compress the scholarly conversation into digestible statements. That compression is often responsible, but it can also make the field feel more settled than it is. When the author asserts influence, or identifies a practice as distinctive, a reader hungry for rigor may wish for more specificity: which sites, which inscriptions, which debates, which rival interpretations. The bibliography gestures toward a broader scholarly ecosystem, but the book’s tone rarely pauses to let the reader feel the friction of scholarship – the way interpretations compete, revise, and sometimes collapse.
None of this is to say the book is careless. Rather, it is to say the book is decisively what it claims to be: a guide. Its greatest strength is that it lowers the barrier to entry. It gives a reader a usable scaffold: political structure, daily life, origin debates, the arc of power, the role of religion, the vividness of art, the frustrations of language, the solidity of architecture, and the long shadow Rome cast over everything. If your previous sense of the Etruscans was a vague association with tombs and togas, you will finish with something far more precise: a sense of a civilization that built, traded, worshiped, argued, celebrated, mourned, and endured, even as its autonomy faded.
But a scaffold is not a house. The book does not often invite the reader to linger. It does not build a sustained interpretive arc that changes how you think about antiquity as a whole. It presents the Etruscans as essential and then moves briskly through the evidence that supports that claim, trusting that accumulation will persuade. Sometimes it does. Sometimes it feels like a well-organized set of notes rather than a work of criticism, a survey that avoids the harder pleasures of argument: the moment when a reader is not merely informed, but persuaded against their prior assumptions.
For many readers, that will be enough, and perhaps that is exactly the book’s niche. There is a genuine service in a work that refuses to gatekeep a topic by turning it into a thicket of jargon and dispute. The danger, however, is that accessibility can become a kind of flattening. The Etruscans were not merely a set of practices waiting to be summarized. They were a people whose world was structurally familiar – families, cities, trade, politics – and culturally distinct in ways that still trouble easy narratives about “civilization” moving in a single direction toward Rome.
If you read “The Etruscans” with the right expectation, you will finish it better oriented than when you began. You will have a map, even if some territories remain blurred. You will likely come away with renewed respect for how much of Rome’s early identity was shaped by contact with older neighbors, and how conquest can be a form of inheritance as much as destruction. You may also come away wanting more: more texture, more disagreement, more of the argumentative heat that makes history feel alive rather than merely summarized.
That desire for more is, paradoxically, a compliment. A primer that leaves you hungry has done something important: it has convinced you the subject is worth deeper attention. I finished the book thinking of it as a solid first encounter that does not pretend to be the last. On that basis, I’d place it at 65 out of 100: clear, competent, occasionally illuminating, and ultimately limited by its own sprinting pace.
That practicality is the book’s clearest virtue. The author writes with introductory confidence, moving from politics to domestic life to origins, then outward into Etruscan power in the wider Mediterranean, and finally toward absorption into Rome – not the apocalyptic collapse so many ancient histories prefer, but the slower, administrative ending that is more often the truth. The chapter design is tidy and pedagogical: each section chooses a domain of life and explains what to look for, what evidence survives, and what conclusions can reasonably be drawn from that evidence. The reader is rarely left wondering what the next stop on the itinerary will be.
The voice helps. It is plainspoken and direct, occasionally punctuated by rhetorical questions that keep the reader leaning forward. This is not a book that builds authority through flourish; it builds it through clarity. The prose rarely calls attention to itself, and that modesty is part of the project. If you prefer history that sounds like a skilled museum docent – confident, well-paced, aware of what you can’t see as well as what you can – the tone will feel familiar. You are not being asked to admire the author’s mind so much as to follow the author’s map.
At its best, the book captivates by clarifying. Etruscan society emerges as a constellation of city-states rather than a single empire, and the consequences of that arrangement are not merely stated but made intuitive. A reader begins to understand why “the Etruscans” can be both a coherent cultural category and a frustratingly decentralized historical actor. The discussion of governance and hierarchy returns to a crucial linkage: authority is intertwined with ritual competence. Power is not merely held; it is performed, justified, and stabilized through sanctioned practice. The book’s emphasis on this point gives Etruscan politics a texture that is more than a list of names and dates.
The chapter on daily life extends the same clarity into the domestic. Without drowning in detail, the author sketches the texture of ordinary existence: the household as a unit of identity and work, the visible markers of class, the rhythms of agriculture and craft, and the role of trade in shaping what people could own and desire. The book acknowledges the archaeological reality that what survives often belongs to elites, and yet it resists reducing Etruria to nothing but tombs and banquets. When it does describe feasting scenes and displays of leisure, it treats them as evidence – of social structure, of values, of the way a community chose to remember itself – rather than as exotic decoration.
If the book has a signature pleasure, it is the way it repeatedly translates the Etruscans from “mysterious” to “legible.” It does this partly by refusing to treat cultural exchange as contamination. The Etruscans were not hermits. They traded, adapted, borrowed, and refined. Greek influence in art and writing is presented not as proof of dependence but as evidence of Mediterranean entanglement. The Etruscans, in this telling, are neither purely indigenous nor purely imported; they are a people formed through contact as well as continuity. That framing matters, because it steers the reader away from the false choice between “origin myth” and “cultural imitation” and toward a more realistic view of how ancient societies actually behaved.
This approach is particularly helpful when the book addresses origins. Ancient testimonies are treated as testimonies, not as final verdicts. Archaeology is treated as a patient archive, offering continuity in some places and ambiguity in others. The author’s refusal to grandstand is welcome. In a subject area where romantic theories can be seductive, the book prefers a calmer stance: here is what has been argued, here is what the material record can support, and here is what remains contested. That restraint, even when it leaves some readers wanting a punchier story, is a form of honesty.
And yet, the same qualities that make the book an inviting entry point also limit its reach. The prose is direct, sometimes to the point of being merely serviceable. It prefers the declarative to the exploratory. Sentences move quickly, stacking fact upon fact, and when interpretation arrives it is often delivered as a conclusion rather than as an argument you can watch unfold. You are told what to think more often than you are shown how scholars arrived there, or what it would mean to disagree. That is not a flaw in a guidebook, exactly. But it does shape the reading experience: the book informs more often than it compels.
This matters most in the chapters where uncertainty is not a problem to be solved but part of the story’s meaning. The Etruscan language is a case in point. Here is a civilization that wrote, that labeled, that inscribed its dead and dedicated its offerings – and yet remains only partially audible. The book explains the predicament cleanly: many short texts, few long ones, enough to reconstruct some grammar and vocabulary but not enough to recover a full literary world. What the chapter cannot quite convey, because the book’s overall pace is so brisk, is the emotional weight of that predicament: the humbling sense that a culture can leave abundant traces and still withhold its voice.
Religion, too, is handled more as system than as experience. Divination is presented as central, ritual as the dominant logic, priestly expertise as a civic technology. This is accurate as far as it goes, and the book is right to emphasize that Etruscan religion was not a private hobby but a public framework for decision-making. Yet the gods can become functions and the priests can become technicians. What recedes is the interiority that ritual so often encodes: fear, hope, gratitude, dread, the desire to be protected, the suspicion that the world is readable if only you learn the proper methods. The Etruscans do not need to be turned into mystics to be vivid; they simply need to be allowed a fuller range of human motives than a schematic treatment can easily supply.
The historical chapters – the period of Etruscan strength and the long Roman conquest – are where the book most resembles a guided tour. Phases are arranged to keep the reader oriented, and the basic arc is sound: a culture flourishing through city-states, trade, and technological skill, then gradually constricted under the pressure of Rome’s expanding power. The author is admirably clear that absorption was slow. Etruria’s ending is not one cinematic moment but a process of treaties, sieges, administrative changes, and cultural negotiation that stretches over generations. This is one of the book’s most salutary instincts: it refuses to treat conquest as an instant switch from “before” to “after.”
Here the author also makes one of the book’s most valuable points: political defeat does not equal cultural disappearance. Rome learned from the Etruscans even as it conquered them. Civic symbols, ritual practices, engineering habits, and artistic forms persisted, often repurposed into the Roman project. The book’s repeated emphasis on this inheritance is a useful corrective to the older habit of treating Etruria as an archaeological curiosity – an intriguing dead end rather than a formative neighbor. The claim that influence survives conquest is not merely consoling; it is historically plausible, and the book makes it accessible.
Still, this is also where the framing can feel overly Roman, even when it is trying not to be. The Etruscans are frequently described through their relationship to Rome: what they gave, what Rome took, what Rome inherited. That is historically unavoidable to a point – Rome is the engine of the conquest narrative – but it risks reproducing the imbalance the book aims to counter. The Etruscans sometimes seem to exist in these pages in order to become Roman, and the reader may find themselves wanting more sustained attention to Etruscan self-definition: what internal conflicts mattered, what local variations shaped belief and practice, what a city’s identity looked like when Rome was not the implied endpoint.
The chapters on art, music, and architecture offer the most immediate corrective because they return the reader to what the Etruscans made. Here the book benefits from the concreteness of objects. Tomb paintings, terracotta figures, bronze work, temple layouts, and city drainage systems are not abstract claims but surviving solutions to practical and spiritual problems. The author is effective at showing how Etruscan temple form differs from Greek models, and at tracing the ways Etruscan craft and engineering anticipate later Roman developments. These chapters do not require the reader to trust an ancient historian’s testimony; they allow the reader to trust the stubborn materiality of what remains.
Yet even here, the speed can feel like a missed opportunity. Etruscan art is described as expressive and narrative, attentive to social scenes and movement. But art is also a civilization looking at itself. It is comfort, aspiration, propaganda, and memory. A banquet scene is an argument about what a good life looks like. A tomb built like a house is a thesis about continuity. The book gestures toward these interpretive possibilities, but it rarely pauses long enough to let a single object complicate the narrative. The reader receives the classification when they may also want the encounter.
One of the more intriguing threads the book touches – and could have developed further – is the social visibility of women in Etruscan representation. The author notes this difference without turning it into a simplistic moral lesson, which is to the book’s credit. Still, the point deserves more nuance than an introductory survey can fully supply. Visibility in art is not the same as equality in law, and public presence can coexist with restriction. Even so, the mere fact that the book marks the issue at all signals its broader goal: to use Etruria as a way of complicating what readers think they already know about ancient Italy.
There is also the question of evidence and argument. Popular history lives or dies by how it handles sources, and this book’s method is to compress the scholarly conversation into digestible statements. That compression is often responsible, but it can also make the field feel more settled than it is. When the author asserts influence, or identifies a practice as distinctive, a reader hungry for rigor may wish for more specificity: which sites, which inscriptions, which debates, which rival interpretations. The bibliography gestures toward a broader scholarly ecosystem, but the book’s tone rarely pauses to let the reader feel the friction of scholarship – the way interpretations compete, revise, and sometimes collapse.
None of this is to say the book is careless. Rather, it is to say the book is decisively what it claims to be: a guide. Its greatest strength is that it lowers the barrier to entry. It gives a reader a usable scaffold: political structure, daily life, origin debates, the arc of power, the role of religion, the vividness of art, the frustrations of language, the solidity of architecture, and the long shadow Rome cast over everything. If your previous sense of the Etruscans was a vague association with tombs and togas, you will finish with something far more precise: a sense of a civilization that built, traded, worshiped, argued, celebrated, mourned, and endured, even as its autonomy faded.
But a scaffold is not a house. The book does not often invite the reader to linger. It does not build a sustained interpretive arc that changes how you think about antiquity as a whole. It presents the Etruscans as essential and then moves briskly through the evidence that supports that claim, trusting that accumulation will persuade. Sometimes it does. Sometimes it feels like a well-organized set of notes rather than a work of criticism, a survey that avoids the harder pleasures of argument: the moment when a reader is not merely informed, but persuaded against their prior assumptions.
For many readers, that will be enough, and perhaps that is exactly the book’s niche. There is a genuine service in a work that refuses to gatekeep a topic by turning it into a thicket of jargon and dispute. The danger, however, is that accessibility can become a kind of flattening. The Etruscans were not merely a set of practices waiting to be summarized. They were a people whose world was structurally familiar – families, cities, trade, politics – and culturally distinct in ways that still trouble easy narratives about “civilization” moving in a single direction toward Rome.
If you read “The Etruscans” with the right expectation, you will finish it better oriented than when you began. You will have a map, even if some territories remain blurred. You will likely come away with renewed respect for how much of Rome’s early identity was shaped by contact with older neighbors, and how conquest can be a form of inheritance as much as destruction. You may also come away wanting more: more texture, more disagreement, more of the argumentative heat that makes history feel alive rather than merely summarized.
That desire for more is, paradoxically, a compliment. A primer that leaves you hungry has done something important: it has convinced you the subject is worth deeper attention. I finished the book thinking of it as a solid first encounter that does not pretend to be the last. On that basis, I’d place it at 65 out of 100: clear, competent, occasionally illuminating, and ultimately limited by its own sprinting pace.
May 24, 2019
An interesting book, although I found it too brief for the topic. For example, I've seen quite a few museum exhibits on Estruscan art, pottery, and jewelry, yet this book covers the topic in just a few pages and only at a surface level. The book feels like a Reader's Digest summary of the Etruscans. A shame, really, because they had a fascinating culture that was absorbed by the Romans. Still, an approachable and basic history that the non-historian will enjoy.
May 11, 2019
Reader friendly history for the rest of us!
This installment takes us basically to Italy before the common era to a people who came before the Romans, adopted many things from them while adding parts of themselves to the Romans before being swallowed up whole and losing any identity of their own. Excellent for learning what we've forgotten.
This installment takes us basically to Italy before the common era to a people who came before the Romans, adopted many things from them while adding parts of themselves to the Romans before being swallowed up whole and losing any identity of their own. Excellent for learning what we've forgotten.
July 28, 2019
An excellent overview of the Etruscans
The scarce resources were finely combed and presented in a logical and captivating way. As a numismatist I was taken aback with mention of Etruscan coins, including a photo of one looking surprisingly like Judean types.
The scarce resources were finely combed and presented in a logical and captivating way. As a numismatist I was taken aback with mention of Etruscan coins, including a photo of one looking surprisingly like Judean types.
March 5, 2020
Very interesting and concise overview of the etruscans. With so little information is also very hard to tell a complex history of a civilisation, nonetheless was very interesting to read about what is known about the culture thorough archaeology, old roman historians and pieces of texts.
January 13, 2025
Nice Read
I found the material useful for the uninitiated to Etruscan history. I thought the book was well written and organized well. I am glad this work gently scratched the surface of Etruscan life.
I found the material useful for the uninitiated to Etruscan history. I thought the book was well written and organized well. I am glad this work gently scratched the surface of Etruscan life.
February 3, 2020
As usual, Captivating History has picked a topic I knew little about, and stimulated my need to know more. Good stuff and worth the time, check it out.
October 22, 2022
As with any other history book, very entertaining
April 17, 2020
They kept saying Etruscan was an Italic/Indo-European language – yet they later admit that the Etruscans preceded the Indo-Europeans on the Italian peninsula. Get your facts straight!
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews