F.'s study of Xenophon's Anabasis uses literary criticism to argue that the book should be brought back to the college classroom. I was immediately drawn to his approach; although the Anabasis never left my classroom, I normally use it either to give students an exciting break between Herodotus and Thucydides, or to have students read behind the text to find the institutions of the Persian Empire. F. convinced me that I simply failed to give the book its full due.

As he acknowledges, F. takes an eclectic methodological approach to the book. The first chapter summarises its contents and places the work in the context of Xenophon's life. Chapter 2 puts Xenophon outside his work as author, narrator and (micro-)historian, while the third chapter addresses the age-old question of Xenophon's artistic licence in constructing the work (F. finds the account largely convincing, if fleshed out with narrative flair). The fourth chapter discusses the book's narrative structure and style – the vivid vignettes, the tight but shifting focalisation, the ‘narrative economy’ (which effectively deals with the loose ends, gaps and problems in the book), the speeches and the characterisation. He uses these to elucidate how the often overlooked Books 5–7 fit into the larger purpose of the Anabasis.

Chapter 5 tackles the difficult issue of Xenophon as both narrator and leader, here (among other things) dealing with the perplexing question of why Xenophon waits until the third book to take an active role in the narrative. Continuing with the perplexing questions, Chapter 6 addresses Xenophon's literally defensive posturing – why (especially in the second half of the work) does Xenophon so often recount his defences of his actions? Finally, in Chapters 7 and 8 F. mounts his own defence for why the Anabasis should be brought back to the college classroom. Chapter 7 discusses, in broad themes (e.g. differences between Greeks and Barbarians, images of Cyrus the Younger, reflections on Athens and Sparta), what the work might have meant to ancient readers, while Chapter 8 artfully deals with the thorny issue of religious agency in the work. There is, indeed, much more here than the great man, against all odds, valiantly working to save his army stuck in the heart of the evil empire.

I found the book particularly rewarding in three ways. As a historian, I am not schooled in the shoptalk of literary theory; arguments that rely heavily on discipline-speak tend to put me off. F.'s writing style is clear and lucid, the arguments logically build upon each other and (like Xenophon) F. is often content to let the reader draw his or her own conclusions. Second, the book succeeds. He adds convincing dimensions and nuances to Xenophon that I had never considered before. Finally, the book is fit for the classroom – it will challenge students to think beyond the ‘easy read’ of the Anabasis and plumb the passages and structure for deeper connections.