SILVER PIGS is the first of a series of mysteries highlighting the adventures of the Roman sleuth Falco and his clever accomplice and lady friend, Helena Justina. The latest, LAST LIGHT IN CORDUBA, is just about to be released in the U.S. Buy it by all means, buy them all, but START WITH THIS ONE.
Lindsey Davis makes one critical mistake in this first outing, but it is nevertheless an engrossing and endearing book--and perhaps my favorite. Her hero, precariously poised between the lower and upper ranks of Imperial Roman society, is the perfect observer of the daily life of what the average person assumes was either a very dusty, dry existence or else extremely sensational, as in I, CLAUDIUS. The truth was probably somewhere in between, and we get it rendered in SILVER PIGS with a gritty realism and a charmingly anachronistic Sam Spade delivery that makes the novel humorous and unforgetable.
Falco has a number of problems in this book--not counting his demanding mother, irritating brothers-in-law, and not terribly hygenic nieces and nephews--the first of which is making ends meet. The fabric of his existence seems held together with cockroaches. It becomes increasingly hard to hold together after he befriends the niece of a Senator, who unwittingly holds the key to a dangerous secret.
It is with the character of Sosia that Davis makes her only significant mistake: Falco and the reader get so very attached to her that when, at the end of the first section, we are forced to part ways with her, it is tempting to put the book down in discouragement.
It is vital that you do not, for that would mean failing to meet Sosia's cousin Helena Justina, who changes everything for both Falco and the reader. The novel's pace picks up considerably after Falco is posted to Britain, of which he says sourly: "If your mapskin has grown ragged at the edges you will have lost it, in which case so much the better is all I can say."
The silver pigs of the title, by the way, are pigs of iron, laced with silver, mined in Britain, and the property of the Emperor. At least, that is the way it is supposed to be...