The Roman historians were self-conscious in their genre constructions, and thus it is appropriate that a companion volume dedicated to their work should be equally self-conscious with regard to its own genre. Feldherr justifies the broad scope of the volume by pointing to the advantages of thematic cross genre connections and the opportunity to consider ‘less generally familiar authors’ (2), such as Curtius Rufus and Ammianus Marcellinus. Even reviews of such companions and handbooks have developed their own tropes and conventions, especially questioning the need for an additional volume on the given topic. The utility of this particular volume is found in its concision, breadth of subject matter, creative thematic approaches, and diverse contributors. In this it seems a close kin to other classical volumes in the Cambridge Companion series, which as a whole seems to serve the advanced undergraduate or graduate seminar audience, while still containing insightful gems for the professional scholar. There is surprisingly little direct overlap with J. Marincola's A Companion to Greek and Roman Historiography (2007): even though the volumes share ten contributors, by and large the topics or themes these authors treat vary significantly between the two.

F. acknowledges in the introduction to this companion the breadth of what might reasonably be termed ‘written history’, but proposes a working definition that emphasizes factual narrative prose that puts community concerns before individual characters. He divides the essays into six parts: Approaches, Contexts and Traditions, Subjects, Modes, Characters, and Transformations. The chapters of these sections only loosely connect with one another. The last section, Transformations, might have been better entitled ‘Reception’. Given the thematic approach, only three historians are presented in summary overview in a chapter dedicated solely to their work: Cato (Gotter), Polybius (Davidson), and Josephus (Chapman). Three overarching themes reappear throughout the various sections: the rôle of literary theory in the study of the historians, the exemplary nature of Roman history, and the connection between text and material culture. Although each of these themes has a dedicated chapter within the volume, the high recurrence in other chapters reflects disciplinary trends.

Discussion of the use of literary theory in historical studies is consistently self-conscious of the developments within the scholarship. Outside of the field of Classics, Hayden White is most commonly cited as an influence, but his work receives no real extended discussion in this companion. Instead, it is A. J. Woodman and T. P. Wiseman who provide a starting point for almost all reflections on methodology. Both have substantial entries in the index, as well as numerous other un-indexed points of influence, e.g. Dillery's use of Wiseman (p. 88, esp. n. 46). Batstone's chapter on ‘postmodern historical theory’ with its references to thinkers such as Jenkins, Foucault, and Derrida is an island of broader theoretical perspectives that have not yet permeated the discipline. The sceptical reader may not warm to his opening sections on the state of scholarship, but ought perhaps to reserve judgement until reading his concise and lucid post-modern revisiting of familiar historical questions such as Crassus’ rôle in the Catilinarian Conspiracy or Caesar's objectivity. A similarly isolated chapter, Lendon's polemical railing against the literary turn in historiography in which he praises those historians who ‘get on with it’ and that ‘preserved academic history from the squalls of nonsense from France’ (42). He blames ‘careerism’ where by ‘young classicists saw in the literary study of historians a road to lofty elevation’ (57). F. makes a nod towards the black sheep character of Lendon's contribution, but suggests that it is a defence of history as a ‘literature of truth’ (8). The abrasive, even bombastic, tone of Lendon's chapter gives voice to a latent anxiety and defensiveness seen elsewhere in the volume that understanding the literary character of historical texts somehow spoils their use as historical sources: Vout, when referring to the canal-cutting topos associated with ‘ambitious autocrats’, goes on to say that ‘the danger of such a discovery is to imply that these historians are novelists, free to flesh out the tradition with suitable fictions’ (263). She offers no possible escape from this particular danger. Some comfort for these anxieties can be found by adopting Connolly's perspective: ‘The Latin historiographical narrative is shaped by its custodial relationship to collective memory and its didactic role in shaping contemporary political practice’ (183). In sum, history's power is derived from the acceptance of its accuracy by the community.

For all F.’s introduction emphasizes ‘written history’, the contributors to the volume seems highly sensitized to the interaction between material culture, especially the monumental landscape, and the production of literary history. Flower's chapter, ‘Alternatives to Written History in Republican Rome’ provides a didactic survey which celebrates the dynamic nature of memory traditions, especially within families. Roller supplies concrete and insightful examples of the use of the Roman civic landscape as an evolving record of the past; see, especially his discussion of Duilius’ and Augustus’ monuments (221–3). Vout, in her fully illustrated chapter ‘Representing the Emperor’, reverses the idea of texts being used to decode image, and suggests we are better placed to allow the images to inform our reading of the historians. For all Riggsby's chapter on ‘Space’ does not directly touch on archaeological artifacts, its reading of the use of the Forum Romanorum, particularly in Cato's speech (163), can provide valuable insights on ancient perceptions for those concerned with the city as a site of memory. The rhetorical value of monuments in the historical texts themselves is explored in Dillery's treatment of Cato's characterization of Leonidas (96–7).

Besides Roller's and Gowing's chapters which are both dedicated specifically to exempla in historiography, nearly every other contributor at least touches on the exemplary tradition. Marincola asks if women as exempla can be taken as evidence that women read history (15). Gotter untangles Cato's complicated relationship with the exemplary tradition in his writing and the reception of his own career (116). Davies considers how the exemplary tradition allows gods to be active characters in the historical narrative (173), but also observes a tension between a history based on the cycles of fate and one in which the individual might provide an exemplum for emulation (176). Both Connolly and Gowing emphasize that exempla in the Latin tradition convey political lessons not just moral concepts (187, 334–5). Gowing's emphasis on the enduring influence of Litchfield's 1914 article in this context is well warranted.

In addition to these large thematic connections, there are many points in the companion where cross-referencing would have been advantageous to allow the casual reader to find related material. Kelly's chapter on Ammianus Marcellinus can be read as an exemplary counterpoint to O'Gorman's ‘Intertexuality and Historiography’. Fontana's chapter on early modern political theory is most productively read against Connolly's ‘Virtue and Violence: The Historians on Politics’. Vasaly and O'Gorman both discuss arch villains and Davies’ discussion of time (175) adds to Feeney's longer treatment. However, these interconnections do demonstrate the success Feldherr has had in selecting contributors who well represent the current scholarly trends and thus the volume well serves both newcomers to the field and those engaged in university instruction.