The title of this book is a famous quote from Julius Caesar (Act 1, Scene 2) and indeed the volume seems intended primarily for those who usually think of (or about) Caesar because of Shakespeare. It is based on the De Carle Lectures that Professor Tatum gave at Otago in 2005; Caesar is the vantage point that enables him to explore a range of problems encompassing the whole of Republican history, and beyond. The outcome is neither a biography of the great man nor a narrative of the fall of the Roman Republic, but a discussion of several leading themes of Caesar's life and career, accompanied by general overviews of specific issues. There are not many original points to be found here, but T. is one of the best students of the late Republic of his generation and whatever he has to say about this period is bound to be of significance; his numerous, and usually relevant, references to current affairs or contemporary intellectual debate add a further element of interest.

The discussion has a thematic and chronological focus at the same time; the organization of the material is to some extent (and no doubt inevitably) arbitrary. The opening chapter on ‘Caesar the politician’ has plenty of useful information on Caesar's rise, but nothing on the vast programme of reforms that he embarked upon after his victory in the Civil War, arguably the most significant testimony to his political talent. The chapter on the Gallic campaign includes a thoughtful discussion of the problem of the ‘just war’ and a lucid summary of the modern debate on the motives of Roman imperialism. Some readers will find that a whole chapter on the role that women apparently played in Caesar's life, with plenty of guesswork on the personalities of the most important ones, is arguably too much. There is a good chapter on religion, which very sensibly puts to bed the stereotype of a ‘sceptical’ Caesar (64). It is especially in this section, however, that the most serious shortcoming of this book becomes apparent. The lack of any references to the primary sources and the very limited engagement with modern scholarship cannot possibly serve the needs of a discussion that is supposed to cover a range of complex problems and to rely on the detailed analysis of the evidence. On a more practical note, this editorial choice will hardly serve the agenda of the teacher who tries to persuade their students of the importance of proper referencing. The last three chapters cover the last decade of Caesar's life, starting with the events that marked the end of the First Triumvirate and ending with Actium. Even so, there is no continuous narrative: the discussion of the conspiracy against Caesar becomes the opportunity for a very accessible survey of the influence of Hellenistic philosophies on the Roman élite. The concluding chapter has already more to say about Augustus than on Caesar himself.

T.'s discussion is consistently engaging and generally reliable (although the Sullan proscriptions did not cause the death of ‘hundreds of senators’, as claimed at p. 31: the tally is uncertain, but must have been lower). His genuine interest in Caesar's personality does not translate into any moralistic exercise or speculation. However, T. is rather harsh on Pompey, who is twice blamed for his ‘arrogance’ (37 and 131). I doubt that this trait can be helpful to the understanding of such a complex character, who arguably embodied the exceptional and structural nature of political change in the late Republic even more powerfully than Caesar. This problem is reflected by another, more serious shortcoming: in this book there is hardly anything about the economic and social situation of Rome and Italy in the first century B.C. On a similar note, the relationship between Caesar and the army is discussed far too cursorily: it is significant that the (very helpful) index does not include either the word ‘colony’ or the word ‘veterans’. Moreover, it is clear that this book has been written using mainly the literary tradition and occasionally some coins; epigraphy and archaeology are virtually absent. The book is on the whole well produced, although there are some blips (e.g. p. 10, ‘Cisapline Gaul’; p. 46, ‘a modest village on the Tibur’; p. 80, ‘Piazza della Rotunda’).

The intended readers of Always I am Caesar are surely not professional classicists who are looking for a new take on Caesar and his times, nor (I suppose) Classics students who need to get a good grounding in the period and may hope to find an original scholarly approach. This book is valuable for other reasons, though: it is an intelligent and witty introduction to the last decades of the Roman Republic, and it is designed for an audience that possibly does not know much about Roman history, but is prepared to consider the hypothesis that the historical Julius Caesar may actually be even more fascinating than Shakespeare's.