Frank Riess writes with great knowledge, engagement and passion, and offers much to be grateful for, for example in his study of the geology and hydrography of the port of Narbonne (19–32). However, there is also much to take issue with. His title is deceptive. This is not a standard regional survey, but the presentation of a particular historical argument: that the stormy relationship between Narbonne and the Visigothic kingdom of Spain, with its capital at Toledo, during the sixth and seventh centuries a.d. resulted from the city's strong self-identity which went back to its foundation as a Roman colony in 118 b.c. This feeling of difference found ultimate expression in Paulus' short-lived secessionist ‘Eastern Kingdom’ of 673 (189–90). R. complains bitterly that Narbonese separatism has been neglected by Spanish, French and Catalan historians, happy to adopt the ‘Toledo-centred’ (133) bias of the extant Visigothic texts, in order to present the inexorable rise of their own, exclusive, national identities.

So far, so good. Separatist feelings have been identified in other periods and areas of Gallo-French history, so it is not impossible that they existed in the case of Narbonne. Problems arise out of R.'s handling of his thesis. Because R. does not offer a standard survey, he does not provide a standard historico-archaeological structure: background, town, country, economy and society, culture and religion, synthesis. Instead, influenced by ‘reception’ and literary criticism, he offers a work of ‘metahistory’ (244), aimed at taking the ‘study of Narbonne to a more imaginative referential level’ (13). He therefore pays as much attention to what people thought had happened, or even what they thought they were seeing, as to what had actually happened, or what they were actually seeing. The complete set of these perceptions, encompassing Roman, late Roman and Visigothic Narbonne, R. calls the city's ‘biography’ (5), of which successive generations of its inhabitants were constantly aware, in a single, timeless sentiment of pride and self-identity. To confirm the existence of this biography R. offers an extended series of vignettes of Narbonese difference and pride taken from authors ranging from Ausonius, Orosius and Hydatius to John of Biclar, Count Bulgar and Fructuosus of Braga.

This treatment is highly discursive, and key topics appear in a strange order. For example, the foundation and development of Narbo Martius is discussed very late (110–23); and consideration of Visigothic taxation is prefaced by a relatively detailed introduction to the late Roman fiscal system (206–14). R.'s book is, in fact, quite unlike anything else I have ever read on Gaul. Apart from its unorthodox approach, it is unusually hard on the reader. There is a general lack of clarity of expression. R. seldom explains the historical background: in hugely stiff part-narratives, Roman, Visigothic, Frankish, Burgundian and Ostrogothic rulers and generals appear and disappear with little introduction. There is poor provision of diagrams and maps (in particular, around 192–8, to illustrate R.'s reconstruction of the boundaries of the Narbonese diocese, and of the Narbonese frontier: introductory Map 5 is insufficient). Important issues, for example the Pirenne thesis (5), are mentioned, but not followed up. R. does not translate quotations in modern languages, and is inconsistent in his translation of those in Latin. His italicization of the names of Roman provinces and his uncertainty with the capitalization of German substantives are irritating.

Ultimately, however, the book's value depends on the persuasiveness of its main argument. I remain unconvinced. Any study of separatism in Gaul must begin much earlier than the fifth century but, except for some fleeting references (59–60, 83–4, 93–4), there is no consideration of wider ‘Gallic attitudes’ to central powers. And any study of separatism in ‘Narbonne’ must define what the term means, but from the start (cf. 4) R. is never entirely clear as to whether this is the city, the city and its territory, the wider area around both, the province of Narbonensis, or the province and its region. Fundamentally, though he demonstrates the continuing importance of the city of Narbonne, he does not prove any powerful core metropolitan ‘identity’. Indeed, even Paulus apparently had ambitions to be king at Toledo, too (204). That Paulus appears to have ruled over Narbonensis and, in modern terms, Catalonia (cf. 204) also causes difficulties for R. His response is a typically clumsy statement (189): ‘The identity of this geographical territory, a separate zone whether east or north of the Iberian Peninsula, appears to confirm the abiding role of Narbonne as a regional centre and capital of a distinct political entity.’ This is assertion, not proof, lacking essential details, for example, on the place of Tarragona and Barcelona. As Franks, Visigoths, Burgundians, Ostrogoths and Byzantines jostled to secure the littoral in the ‘Great Game’ (12, 132–3) of Mediterranean politics, Visigothic Narbonne will have found itself in an unenviable position. As R. says (172), a letter of Bulgar, written probably in 612, shows Narbonensis as a ‘frontier-zone’: ‘an advanced post for Merovingian and Visigothic diplomacy with skirmishing and hostilities representing positions not securely held by either side: boundaries and frontiers both challenged and crossed.’ In such a situation, Narbonese (whatever this may mean) attempts at self-assertion may have been no more than manifestations of ‘marcher’ politics, to be expected in weak state-structures, as peripheral communities, perceiving neglect, occasionally lost patience with the core. R. notes (183–7) similar, albeit less extreme, sentiments in Cordoba.