What's In A Name?
The Accusers by Lindsey Davis
While Juliet might declare that a name is but an empty moniker that neither detracts nor adds to the beauty of its bearer, the populace of Lindsey Davis' most recent novel The Accusers would disagree. Vehemently.
In the 15th book in the Marcus Didius Falco series, the Roman informer is drawn into a convoluted case that has a high-ranking family fighting for its name. And in the battle, Falco's own name and fortune are put at dire risk. He and his associates dive into the legal system of ancient Rome and find themselves battered on all sides with a series of unexpected charges.
The Accusers could be rightly called a courtroom drama. Falco is hired by other informers-informers of patrician rank who want his help with a corruption case. The corruption case blossoms into a murder case when the senator convicted of corruption apparently commits suicide. He is hired to gather information and finds himself emeshed in a complicated game played by two prosecutors: Silius Italicus and Paccius Africanus. Eventually, Falco finds himself in court with the stakes quickly becoming as high for himself personally as they are for those he defends and accuses. It helps to bring a scorecard along to keep track of who is an ally or an enemy on any given page.
Fans of the Falco series are likely to be enchanted with this stock novel that continues the earthy hero's saga. The stories are stand-alone, but there is much presumption on the part of the author that the reader already knows her characters. If you are not familiar with the series, you may find the first half of the book to be slow going as you sort out the huge cast of characters. I've taken a few dips into the series, but still had difficulty buying into the personalities of some of the periphery characters.
Another reason that I struggled with this book at first is that I've long been a fan of Stephen Saylor's Gordinius the Finder mysteries and of Elizabeth Peters' Amelia Peabody tales. The temptation was constant to compare them. However, Davis' Rome is not Saylor's Rome and her humor is not the same brand as Peters'. It would be unoriginal if they were. Davis relies much more heavily on sarcasm than Peters and her Rome is a much lighter and grubbier one than Saylor's. When allowed to stand on its own without comparisons to the styles and choices of other writers, Davis' novel has a great deal of appeal.
Once I was able to sort out who was who and what their significances were, the book grew gradually more compelling until I was eventually deprived of sleep as I just had to finish those final several chapters. Davis tells a good story. She builds suspense while throwing just enough hints that you think you might be able to figure things out. There is always a nagging doubt, though, as she continues to throw unresolved twists at you until the very end.
Davis' Rome has many familiar feels to it. In fact, there are many times when I forget that I am in a Rome that ceased to exist centuries ago. There are times it seems I might be in a modern setting. Yes, there are elements that are very Roman in flavor-the senators, the togas, the gods with their temples, and the ever-present informers. There are references to the emperor woven throughout the book, though he never takes an active role. Yet, her characters often feel very modern in the ways they talk, their cynicism, and their behaviors. Even the courtroom scenes felt very modern.
Perhaps that speaks to the universality of the tale. Perhaps it is further reinforcement about how much we have in common with ancient Rome. Perhaps the exotic feel of historical mysteries was traded in favor of creating immediacy and characters that readers could greatly relate to.
Davis does manage to resist the temptation to infuse her characters with completely modern consciences, especially when it comes to such difficult issues as slavery and torture. They do make decisions that are in tune with their time. Falco even suggests a slave be tortured at one point in the book, though his wife consistently expresses distaste and a strong opposition to such treatment.
Davis also deserves credit for creating a tale that so richly colors the corruption of Rome's legal system. She not only illuminates corrupt practices, she gives us a visceral feel for the effects this corruption has on the innocent and semi-innocent.
The importance of a name is one of Davis' themes, though it is often well-buried. Falco must ask himself what the price of his conscience is and what the value of his name is. The answers aren't as obvious as you might find in such famous works as Arthur Miller's The Crucible. For Falco must weigh whether his name is more important that the name of another. What choice does a person make when faced with a decision between conscience and reputation? It is an interesting conundrum Falco faces.
The Falco series isn't about to supplant my affection for the other historical mysteries that I follow, but The Accusers was an entertaining read with an interesting plot. If historical mysteries interest you at all, then The Accusers is worth picking up.
