How can one write imperial biographies of emperors who reigned for only a brief period of time? More importantly, what purpose do such biographies serve? Klaus Altmayer answers these questions, both addressed implicitly, in his thorough and rewarding study of the reigns of Carus and his two sons Carinus and Numerian (a.d. 282–285). There has been an abundance of literature on the third century in recent times, but no monograph on Carus and his sons since P. Meloni, Il regno di Caro, Numeriano e Carino (1948). A. is aware that this is not in itself a reason for a book on these emperors, but argues that there is still ‘eine ganze Reihe von ungeklärten Fragen’ (13). Also, he questions to what extent the period under discussion foreshadowed apparently tetrarchic innovations (14–15).

The analytical part of the book is fairly evenly divided between a history of the events between 282 and 285 (ch. 4, 57–183) and a thematic comparison between Carus and sons and Diocletian's tetrarchs (ch. 5, 185–317). The book opens with very brief introduction to 282–285 and previous scholarship (11–26), and a slightly longer and very clear overview of the different types of sources available for analysing these years (27–55). Following ch. 5, A. supplies a brief summary, presented as a ‘Bilanz der Herrschaft des Carus und seiner Söhne’ (319–23), and provides another almost 120 pages of appendices on prosopographical analysis, inscriptions, papyri and ostraca (all set out in full), and then fifty pages of bibliography and index. Curiously enough, considering the enormous amount of work that has clearly gone into assembling and analysing this material, the index is fairly brief (485–93). A more important point of criticism is that the book is often difficult to read, with frequent repetitions and stylistic infelicities.

Two of the three main sections of this book, then, focus on detailed analyses of sources and the ways in which these can be interpreted to reconstruct events for the three years. The ‘range of unsolved questions’ regarding the actual reigns seems to have captured most of the author's attention. The detailed historical reconstructions that are presented in ch. 4 and the appendices make full use of epigraphic, numismatic and papyrological source material and are mostly convincing, with many acute observations about chronology and prosopography. Often discussions range much wider than the sharp focus on Carus, Carinus and Numerian would lead one to expect. Thus, for example, the first fourteen pages of a large section on Carus and Numerian's expedition against the Persians (87–120) consist of contextualizing Roman-Sassanian relations between a.d. 261 and 282, and analysing the position of the province of Mesopotamia within that framework.

The tripartite structure of the book places the notion of Carus’ and Carinus’ reigns (and to a lesser extent Numerian's) as anticipation of the tetrarchic system of rule at the core of the volume. The success of this section is somewhat mixed. Again, there are valuable observations, mostly on aspects of the period 282–285, and how these can be positioned within the third century. The section on religious policy and imperial representation (219–44), for instance, gives a detailed and convincing analysis of Carus and his sons’ association with the divine, based especially on coins and medallions, which A. briefly compares to third-century rulers from Decius onwards. The argument would have benefited from inclusion of E. Manders, Coining Images of Power: Patterns in the Representation of Roman Emperors on Imperial Coinage, A.D. 193–284 (2012), but it is clear and sketches the third-century trajectory. This emphasis on context makes it surprising that A. argues fairly ardently that the brief reigns of Carus and Carinus were the touchstone for many of Diocletian's reforms.

Clearly, many tetrarchic measures were foreshadowed in the third century, as has been long recognized. Clearly, also, Diocletian will have continued some of the measures that his direct predecessors instigated. That is not to say that these predecessors formed the foundation of the Tetrarchy. Occasionally, A. overstates too much. A main innovation of tetrarchic imperial appointments and imperial representation, for example, was the ignoring of blood relatives as possible Caesars, and the exclusion of imperial women from imagery and from obtaining the title Augusta. This makes it unlikely that Carus’ family, with the appointment of Carinus as Augustus and Numerian as Caesar, and Magnia Urbica as Augusta, should count as a ‘Vorbild für das diokletianische Herrschaftssystem’ (320). The emphasis on the period 282–285 as pivotal for later Roman development feels somewhat forced, and shows one of the pitfalls of focusing on specific protagonists: the centrality to research of these individuals makes it tempting to make them central to history as well.

This pitfall applies to the book by Steve Pasek. Its very first sentence states: ‘Im Rahmen der Geschichte der römischen Kaiserzeit nehmen die Ereignisse des Jahres 193 n. Chr. eine Schlüsselrolle ein’ (11). Since the year was ultimately a brief interlude between the Antonine and Severan dynasties, this seems something of a hyperbole. The reign of Didius Julianus lasted less than three months, which makes a 450-page volume seem rather excessive, especially in light of Pasek's 442-page book on Pertinax which also appeared in 2013 with the same publisher. P. discusses the events of a.d. 193 in great detail, but with far too little attention to wider context. He tends to follow the literary sources fairly closely and, in sharp contrast to A., almost excludes numismatic material. A brief section on Iulianus’ coins (111–15) does not engage with any serious literature on the topic. The few maps and images in the volume are mostly scans from other books and of appalling quality. Use of epigraphic evidence is mainly limited to the idiosyncratically named section ‘dramatis personae’ (302–400), which is useful, though sometimes based on outdated material. There are interesting observations in the volume, but it should be used with care.

The comparison between these two volumes highlights the importance of placing biographical research in context. Authors should not too easily assume that their object of study is the beginning of major developments, but rather analyse it as part of a trajectory. In this, A. is ultimately successful, and his book will be of immense use to anyone working on the third century.