This writer clearly identifies a target audience -- mayors, civic leaders and school board members. By decision, it excludes teachers and students. It's sad to think -- and I've seen this happen -- that ivory tower bureaucrarts actually make decisions based on this type of dubious theory rather than getting down in the trenches with the reality of the classroom.
Content here is peppered with educratic jargon which twists other terminology into bastardized educational theories. School "incubators" make me think of premature babies."Real dollar budgets" make me wonder if bureaucrats are playing Monopoly with our taxes. "CEO Strong Schools strategy" pretends that a principal, who is middle management, is a CEO. Get real. The only CEO in the school district is the superintendent who is hired by an elected school board.
This book, to it's credit, recognizes the inability of reform to reform anything (last paragraph, page 84). Any good book offers new insights and "policy churn" gets my prize here. Teachers are jaded by bandwagon bureaucrats who recycle new versions of old ideas, one after another, never saying, "stop this" or "drop that."
Hillary Clinton quotes the African proverb, "It Takes a Village." This book spins the idea into, "a city." I'm waiting for the next trendy realization for someone to discover that, "It takes a teacher."
List price: $14.95 (that's 30% off!)
The fundamental problem with Caligula: Divine Carnage is that it doesn't seem to fit into any useful literary category. The book never makes its intentions clear; it is neither pure history nor straight entertainment, and as such, it is difficult to identify an audience that it will fully satisfy.
As history, it certainly presents some interesting facts, but since it lacks footnotes or even a bibliography, it is impossible to follow up on most of its novel claims or even to verify whether they are true. The book definitely poses as a work of non-fiction, but some of the claims are so outrageous, that even to readers who are not especially well versed in Roman history might seem suspect. If any of the "facts" are indeed unfounded, then this book does the supreme disservice of misleading naive readers in the guise of a credible history. At the very least, the authors should explain themselves when they venture far from the consensus of the standard sources.
As entertainment, the book is actually quite successful. Barber's vivid treatment of Caligula and the arena would make enthralling fiction and the thought that it is true makes it all the more fascinating. With the possible exception of the final chapter, there is never a dull moment in the text. Some of the qualities that make the book fail as history are actually beneficial to its entertainment value. Dates and detailed historical background are included only when necessary to the context of the book's theme. It is definitely an easy read.
One aspect of the text that limits its appeal to either serious historians or casual readers is its excruciatingly colorful language. There are many examples, which I will not repeat here, of language that borders on offensive and which definitely disqualifies the text from being used in the classroom setting. Sensitive readers are advised to stay away. Especially problematic is the fact that the book is neither marketed nor jacketed in a way that indicates the rawness if its language. There are many readers who are interested in learning about the subject matter promised by the cover, but it is not until a few pages into the text that the reality of the portrayal is revealed. On a scale of offensiveness, I would place this publication near the un-edited Caligula of the Bob Guccione variety.
Another weakness of the book is the dramatic shift in tone that occurs in the last chapter. Jeremy Reed, who authors this single chapter, discards the abrasive language found in the rest of the book. Instead, he descends into indecipherable psychobabble in search of the true motivations for the young emperor Heliogabalus's ridiculous behavior. This chapter really would be best published elsewhere, for readers who appreciate it will probably not enjoy the others and vice versa.
In summary, I would most recommend this book only to casual enthusiasts of Roman history who have a healthy sense of skepticism and a strong stomach, and for whom Seutonius is too restrained. Even for these readers, there are doubtlessly more reputable sources to visit first, and doing so would probably be prudent. Caligula: Divine Carnage is an interesting and thoroughly entertaining work, but suffers some substantial weaknesses that limit its usefulness in most conventional categories.
Especially if you know anything about the subject, because it is so tragically inacurate. This is thinly disguised pornography written by two [individuals] whose only resources were an encyclopedia article and a copy of the Bob Guccione movie. This book is also Exhibit A in the case against ever allowing an Englishman anywhere near a word processor.
So much of this book is brazen [material] ' ... ' but in a sick way that's part of the charm.
This book HAS to be a joke ' just check out the description of how to capture a lion on p. 78: 'Armies of slaves were expended to capture those majestic beasts ' they were impervious to tranquilizer arrows, and the only way to subdue them was for a particularly handsome slave to present his [body] to the lion's mighty sexual apparatus; then, once the act of copulation (which invariably proved terminal for the unfortunate slave, due to unsustainable blood loss) reached its critical point and the lion was momentarily distracted, a gang of a hundred or more whooping slaves would wrestle the lion to the ground and throw a net over it.'
Whew!
I'll be generous and say that 5% of this book is historically accurate. But sometimes the guys weren't even trying to be real. We are presented with page upon page describing Caligula at various Coluseum events, but unfortunately in their 5 minutes of research the authors missed the fact that Caligula died in 41 and the Coluseum wasn't built until 80!
To an extent, that is what is so purplexing about this: given the vast wealth of dirt and absurdity that are amply documented about Rome's nuttiest Emperor, it is a mystery why these two buffoons would chose to go into uncharted territory and brazenly make up lurid fiction. The only solution I can fathom is that this is a straight-faced joke.
If you know nothing about Caligula and actually want to learn, avoid this book like the plague and get a *real* book. But for a good laugh, check it out.
I have also discovered it is possible to make a drinking game out of it. Get a case of beer, and a copy of this book. Take a sip every time some historical 'fact' is presented that is obviously wrong. Take a swig every time a sex act is referenced, and pound the rest of the can upon the use of the term 'plebeian scum.'
You'll be wasted before you finish a chapter.