Alessandro Sebastiani's Ancient Rome and the Modern Italian State applies the methodological tool of so-called ‘placemaking’ to the various ways in which, between national unification and the end of World War II, various regimes intervened in and ultimately altered the cityscape of Rome. The approach of placemaking is applied in a very consequential manner, which adds to the book's coherence. It is defined as ‘the process of transferring the abstract values of identity belonging to a culture or to a people in the concreteness of ancient monuments or modern architecture. In this way, they become hallmarks of the awareness of a nation, and its members can recognise themselves as belonging to the same set of cultural values that unites them’ (2). In other words, by using architecture, past and present, to represent themselves, regimes and nations do not only, and simply, create an image, but actively instil values. In this process, the disciplines of architectural history and archaeology go hand in hand, whereby the analysis and understanding of ‘monuments, the different construction techniques, and their evolution over the course of history allows us to rediscover links between the tradition of the past and the actions of the present’ (2).

At its core, the book presents a study of the reception and perception of ancient architectural remains (xv), based on an in-depth study of relevant secondary and primary source material, as well as on a wide variety of ancient and contemporary monuments (cf. the many pictures throughout the book). Its focus is both thematic and chronological. It starts with an introduction to the concept of placemaking (ch. 1), after which the focus turns towards the narratives and agents in the entire period under investigation (1870–1945, ch. 2: ‘ideological placemaking’). Ch. 3 then focuses on post-unification placemaking (1870–1922), while ch. 4 presents the case study of four ancient monuments, which are studied across the whole period. The last two chapters subsequently deal with the fascist interest in (a selection of) classical monuments (ch. 5) and with the fascist interest in and development of monumental architecture (ch. 6).

The subject matter itself is quite familiar — consider, for example, the works by Andrea Giardina, Emilio Gentile and many others on the fascist ventennio. The book's value resides, at least in my opinion, not in the methodological approach, which, even if consistently applied and of a certain value, does not represent a significant addition to this kind of study (without using the term, both Gentile and Giardina already integrated the concept of placemaking into their analysis), but rather in the fact that it provides a clear overview of how Rome physically evolved during the period under investigation. Indeed, throughout the book, even though certain chapters focus on in-depth case studies such as the Augusteo or the Fori Imperiali, an enormous amount of information is presented to the reader, giving a fairly comprehensive idea of the (ideologically driven) transformations the city of Rome underwent. Without explicitly showcasing it, S.'s erudition is unmistakable and greatly contributes to the volume's authority.

A second valuable aspect of the book is its temporal span, from the moment when Rome became Italy's capital to the final days of fascism. This approach allows for a more contextualised analysis of both the fascist and pre-fascist periods, as in both cases a certain degree of similarity is visible, alongside the obvious differences due to evolving political climates. In fact, the author even implicitly refers to the fascist period as a time of interruption (148), a viewpoint which recalls the traditional idea of fascism as a parentesi storica between pre- and post-fascist democratic regimes. Another strong point is that the author does not stop there; throughout the book, nearly the entire period since ancient Rome is taken into account, including the Renaissance and the period of the French occupation (24–6). As notably demonstrated by George L. Mosse, the French occupation created the ideal conditions, through a process of ‘nationalisation of the masses’, for movements of national consciousness … and for fascism.

Ancient Rome and the Modern Italian State, then, presents a comprehensive English-language treatment of the changing face of the city of Rome during a crucial period in Italian history. I have only one critical remark: the fact that throughout the book, when discussing the fascist period, explicit negative judgments are quite often made. For example, the via della Conciliazione is considered a ‘great urban wound’ (200), and more generally, terms such as ‘distortion’ and ‘abuse’ are repeatedly used. In line with this critique, it seems that the author somewhat reductively considers the past and history as known facts, with a ‘real past’ (14) in opposition to the way contemporary regimes have used it.

Even though this perspective somewhat hindered the reading experience for the present reviewer, it does not in any way diminish the book's strengths. To conclude, I would add a final observation. The book's value is not only in its reflection on nineteenth- and twentieth-century appropriation of the past, but also in its broader analysis of similar tendencies that might occur in present-day societies. Whereas above I criticised the explicity and recurrency of negative judgments throughout the author's treatment of his subject matter, this criticism is aimed not at the judgements per se but rather at the fact that any thorough reading of S.'s opus highlights, in an undeniable manner, the dangers and possible intellectual perversions of any ideological use of the past. Indeed the following citation, included in the book's preface, already says it all, as the book ‘warns about certain behaviours and distortions that may be read in the light of dangerous political contexts in which authority and austerity often become the emblem of political systems that result in the lack of personal and intellectual freedom’ (xix).