All societies have ways to deal with their past, especially when that past troubles or disturbs them. The Romans were a society of memory. It is no surprise, therefore, that bad memories were exorcised through (very) public measures after individuals were deemed to be disgraced. The term damnatio memoriae might be a modern construction, datable to at least the seventeenth century, but the practice – or practices – was real. After a long silence vis-à-vis the memory boom of the 1980s and 1990s, Roman scholarship has, since the turn of the millennium, steadily studied this phenomenon. U.'s book (a much-revised version of her doctoral thesis) is the latest addition to this movement. It focuses on the Constantinian period, from the victory at the Milvian Bridge to the ascension of Julian, utilising four case studies to elaborate on how these previously honoured figures (Maximian, Licinius, Crispus and Magnentius) became subjects of disgrace.

U. consciously avoids the use of the term to describe the phenomenon, mainly because a totalising view goes against her main thesis, that ‘the penalties associated with political disgrace were neither immediate nor universal, neither centrally imposed nor regulated’ (p. 5). According to U., the fashioning of disgrace was a much more multifaceted and fluid process than is commonly understood.

The book's second chapter (following the introduction) illustrates this point well, as it revolves around Maximian. Maximian's imperial history was eventful, from parvenu Augustus to being executed by his ally Constantine over charges of treason in 310 ce. This led to a purge of his honorific dedications, memorably described by Lactantius and Eusebius and more or less trusted in full by modern authorities. U. complicates this picture considerably: moving from the ecclesiastical histories to the inscriptional record, the idea of a monolithic action taken by Constantine proposed by Lactantius (who was not as close to the emperor during this period as was the case later) is shown as the myth it always was. Reality was more fluid (and localised – these erasures occurred mainly in Constantinian territory): a statue base from Segarra might have been erased out of local initiative, while a series of milestones depicting Constantine as Maximian's grandson were subject to thorough defacement (though, again, U. presents a nuanced view of this ‘thoroughness’, which varied from region to region). At the same time as these erasures occurred, Maximian was being hailed as divus beyond the Alps by his son-cum-enemy Maxentius. Erasures in the eastern part of the Empire are more difficult to interpret, as both Maximian and Galerius shared the name ‘Maximianus’; U. is duly careful in this part of the chapter.

The third chapter focuses on Licinius. Described as ‘the ultimate loser of the Constantinian dynasty’ (p. 111), the chapter focuses first on the decade-long dual division of Empire between him and Constantine, then moves and explains the process of disgrace that Licinius suffered. The first focus presents an invaluable service: as Licinius is constantly overlooked by modern authors, the chapter is a good instruction to his conflict with Constantine. Concerning his disgrace, U. shows how the process of damnation that Licinius (and his young son) suffered was both more thorough and more widespread than usual. The erasure rate of surviving inscriptions (26% of the corpus) might seem low, but ‘it is twice the erasure rate for Maximian’ (p. 132), and it is indeed the largest rate of the case studies presented in the book. Ruling for sixteen years, and having had a positive relationship vis-à-vis Christianity before his defeat by Constantine, Licinius was a bothersome presence: choosing to pass over him in silence was a choice made not only by fiat of the imperial centre. Eusebius, for example, cannily adapted the text of his Church History; Licinius’ praetorian prefect, Iulius Iulianus, both set up a city-gate dedication to the emperor and presided over its taxing erasure. Decades later, the compilers of the Theodosian Code still felt the need to record his condemnation: U.'s argument that the process of disgrace has many aspects is clearly proven here.

The fourth chapter focuses on Crispus. The episode of Crispus’ death in 326 is understandably shadowy; there was simply no straightforward way to describe a filicide. This fall from grace was far from total, contra the modern bibliography on the subject: U. mainly questions the positions of H.A. Pohlsander and T.D. Barnes, who more or less superimpose an ‘Orwellian “memory hole”’ (p. 207) on a lack of sources. On the contrary, while conspicuous monuments, set up as recently as after 324, were defaced (such as a plaque in Ostia where ‘Crispus’ name has not been erased but attacked’, p. 195), others, indeed most, remained intact (85% of the surviving inscriptional material). The decisiveness of the attacks that did happen moves us away, by their very nature, from the polite silence that surrounds Crispus’ death in our literary evidence. U.'s suggestion that ‘such attacks might be seen as a form of anti-establishment gesture’ (p. 206) might not be accepted, but her chapter equips us to move beyond a limited number of tendentious literary sources.

The final chapter focuses on Magnentius, usually seen as a prototypical usurper. This picture was centrally, and successfully, proposed by Constantius’ victorious regime after Magnentius’ defeat. However, U. skilfully shows, through thorough epigraphical research, the geographical extent of Magnentius’ support and the hatred that was directed against Constans (whose name is erased in many inscriptions where the name of Constantius is left intact). Notably, Constantius made few, if any, efforts to rehabilitate his brother's memory. He made few efforts, as well, to obliterate the memory of Magnentius’ high-ranking supporters: the ‘usurper's’ prize catch, Fabius Titianus, ex-praetorian prefect and urban prefect of Rome, left a lasting, visible impact on the city, with some ten statue bases bearing his name still extant, ‘some of which remain in situ in the forum today’ (p. 259).

This review can hardly do justice to the wealth of material information presented throughout the book. The richness of late Roman society, of the many ways in which the individuals who carved or erased inscriptions reacted to current political events, is brilliantly presented. One leaves the book wishing for more chapters, focusing on other emperors, more words about more inscriptions: a sure sign of the work's quality.

Some comments about editing. U.'s book is that rarest of animals, a book (presumably) written and revised almost exclusively through computer screens where one can hardly find a typo. A more substantial mistake can be found on p. 82, where, in the transcription of a building plaque, a “[[Maximinus]]” (Daia) becomes “[[Maximianus]]”; the reader who has had the distinct misfortune of dealing with Tetrarchic and Constantinian imperial nomenclature will forgive the slip. The choice to have a separate bibliography at the end of each chapter (with eventual repetitions between them) initially seems odd, given the complete bibliography at the end of the book. After perusal of the work, however, it is clear that there are advantages to this approach, which more than justify that choice. Praise must also be given for the wide geographical variety of U.'s reading: the bibliography lists works also in French, Italian, Spanish and German. The care taken with reproducing pictures from statue bases and milestones in colour is evident and useful.

The only real sour note to the work is its exorbitant price. It ensures this foundational work, as of now, will only find a home in the personal libraries of well-established professionals and in institutional facilities: it will remain beyond the reach of most undergraduates. A paperback version is an immediate desideratum.