As Paul Magdalino demonstrates in this exhaustive examination of the life and culture of Byzantium during the reign of the last competent ruler of the Komnenian dynasty, empires can be fragile, especially if they lack any sense of what they really are. By the time the Komnenians took control of it, Constantine's genius in locating the capital at the confluence of Europe and Asia had turned into a curse, and the Byzantines were ringed by enemies in their former territories: Arabs, Turks, Franks (in the Crusader states), Slavs, the Holy Roman Empire, Venetians and even Normans. The Komnenians, at least the first three, were strong generals, but war may have been the least of their problems. The aristocracy (especially the imperial relatives), had grown fat off its country estates and spent all its time in the capitol lining up to become the next Emperor. The army was composed largely of foreign mercenaries. The urban populace was restive, demanding the kind of theater provided by military triumphs and an imperial pomp that defies the imagination, even if the mechanical tricks reported centuries before by a European visitor -- artificial birds that sang and lions that moved and roared and a throne that elevated to the ceiling -- had probably fallen apart by then. Ceremonies were filled with acclamations and speeches of extravagant praise of the emperor -- Manuel himself was compared to Jesus. The speeches were performance as well, closely tied to patronage. The bureaucrats issued decrees as though they would be obeyed in territory lost for decades. All this for a kingdom reduced to Greece and the coast of Anatolia. Manuel Komnenos inherited this system, and was the perhaps the most open-minded of his family. He was, at least at first, a competent military leader, and he tried hard to alter the world map through diplomacy and even theology -- suggesting, in his role as leader of the Eastern Church, a new doctrine that would allow Muslim converts not to renounce Allah. He intended to accommodate a Sultan who was thought to be considering Christianity. Manuel may have ordered the requisite number of imprisonments and blindings, but he could forgive his enemies as well. But in the end, her failed to keep the Komnenian experiment going. His military acumen gave out in his last campaign, and he was forced to retreat from Anatolia under the protection of a Sultan. He built new throne rooms in an aging city that was falling apart. He tried to weave together western powers through trade and diplomatic marriage, while fending off the Crusaders who were envious of Constantinople's wealth and blamed him for the failure of their Second Crusade. But he did not take care of that most personal of imperial responsibilities in a kingdom of vipers, leaving or designating a competent heir, and that oversight revealed just what a rotten foundation he left behind. The result was tragic: within three years of his death, his wife, daughter and adolescent son, the nominal emperor, had all been murdered. Within five, the last Komnenian emperor was tortured to death by a mob in the Hippodrome. Within a quarter century, Crusaders and Venetians breached the walls that had withstood the fleets of the Arabs and the Rus, and once inside, looted the city of all its real and imagined riches -- the Byzantines were great consumers of Christian relics, and were less than exacting about provenance. In this, as in much else, perhaps all else, they made the most elementary of political mistakes-- they could not tell the lies they told about themselves from the truth of who they were. And, for a kingdom masquerading as an empire, that is a mistake fatal to both ruler and, more importantly, people.