Tribune of Rome is Fabbri’s first novel after a career in film and television in a variety of assistant directing roles. He has worked on historical and contemporary series’ across a twenty-five year span. As such it was with interest that this reviewer approached this début novel, given the arguable glut on the market of Roman fiction (both good and bad) as well as the apparent enthusiasm for the period that is implied from Fabbri’s biography.

Tribune of Rome does not disappoint, it is a strong first foray into the cut-throat world of historical fiction, sounded written and apparently well researched. The novel follows the predictable approach of this kind of series – beginning with the young life of Vespasian from childhood through to the first years of adulthood. Despite following what is interestingly a genre “formula” of demonstrating a coming of age story, Tribune of Rome does not feel formulaic. Indeed there is a freshness to Fabbri’s writing, in that he uses the political intrigues of ancient Rome well, pulling his young character convincingly from rural obscurity into the homes of Rome’s influential men and women.

As such Tribune of Rome follows a believable character arc, and despite it beginning with Vespasian’s birth and ending with him as a Tribune amongst the civil anarchy of Thrace, there are few occasions when the reader has cause to feel incredulous at his rapid progress. On those occasions where the teenager does seem to have stepped beyond believable limits, this is often offset by the descriptions of his own internal turmoil or confusion.

The story is suitably violent and intriguing, two cornerstones of Roman historical fiction. The city itself is described in impressive detail, making Vespasian’s surroundings live and breath along with him. The battles, without which the novel would hardly give credit to the genre, are well conceived and gruesomely described. The auditory aspects are especially impressive, conjuring up the bellows of the enemies of Rome, the drumming of javelins on shields, and the deeply rhythmic chanting of the advancing Roman Legions. Descriptions of severed limbs and fountains of blood are two-a-penny in books of this type, but Fabbri succeeds in adding a further dimension with these elements that batter the hearing of his characters.

The protagonist himself is well supported by devious politicians, a (mostly) loving family, heroic combatants and a full cast of selfish power-obsessed Romans. As such this reviewer can not help but think that the period is well reflected in all its debauched, violent glory.

There are many sound-bites abound concerning the ‘next Cornwell’, or emerging threats to the readership of Iggulden and Hume. Fabbri does not yet demonstrate the sheer brilliance of the best of his peers, but this would be much to ask from a début novel. One thing is certain though – Fabbri has in his first work shown a capacity for storytelling that is well complimented by his research of the period. It may not be the best Roman series ever committed to page, but this reviewer at least will be sure to follow it with interest. It did after all strike the most effectively resounding note that a reader should look for – I am already wondering when the next in the series will be released.

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