Nemesis, from which we get the transliterated
English word, was the Greek god of vengeance, especially exercised about taking
action when human beings had been arrogant or hubristic or rude towards the
gods.  In fact the name comes from the
Greek verb nemein which means to
give what is due someone— in other words, Nemesis is the god of divine
payback.  The Romans called this same god
Invidia (as in invidious).  Lindsey Davis’s
latest novel, entitled Nemesis is the
20 in the Marcus Falco ancient detective series, and it is a good one.  It’s immediate predecessor Alexandria  is more fun (about a vacation in Alexandria that also
involves solving a crime), and in fact this novel is dark, sinister, and
involves long periods in the stinky Pontine swamps.  It is in many ways a sad novel because it
begins with the death of both Falco’s infant son and his ne’er do well father
Geminus.  Thus the novel is, among other
things, about dealing with grief, but it is also about payback, not by some
divine intervention, but in fact by Falco himself, against his own human
nemesis— the Chief Spy–Anacrites. 

I love the character of Falco. He
is clever, humorous, occasionally courageous, a man who loves his family, and a
person who has a rather strong sense of right and wrong, and basic honesty—-
that is, most of the time.  This novel Nemesis (to which one could compare the
Stephen Saylor novel In the Arms of
Nemesis) however shows us a Falco who in some respects acts out of
character, and thus becomes less appealing. 
But then, which one of us has not acted out of character at various
points in our lives.   Indeed, this whole
notion of acting ‘out of character’ is an interesting concept in itself.  When an actor is ‘in character’  he or she is playing a role that is other
than who they actually are.  But when a
human being acts ‘out of character’  they
are not being true to their best self, their real self, or at least the self
they want and try to be when they are at their best.

I also loves the character of
Helena Justina, the patrician wife of plebian Falco.  She is a testimony to how wise men marry
above themselves, and are constantly improved and schooled by their wives.  But Helena
as well in this novel is not herself. She is grief stricken and at one juncture
chooses to leave their house and move across town with the children when Falco
and his buddy Petronius decide to torture an informant in the basement of Falco’s
house!   I think I’d leave too.

One of things one learns about by
reading these novels is how very different pagans would think about ethics than
ancient Christians in some respects, and how in other respects, they would
think much the same— for instance about things like justice and honesty and
truth.  A good point of entry into that whole subject is the classic study by Robert Wilken, The Christians as the Romans Saw Them.

Lindsey Davis is by far the most
witty of all the ancient Roman novelists currently on offer in our era (cf.
Saylor, Harris, Doherty), and so she has you laughing even in a more somber
novel like Nemesis.   And her knowledge of the first century
Greco-Roman world and Rome and Italy in
particular is first rate.  You learn a
lot about the world St. Paul
and many other early Christians lived in, in these novels.  As one writer said ‘the past is like a foreign
country, they do things differently there’. 
Indeed they do, and the more one learns about the context of early
Christianity, the better one understands the content of the earliest Christian
documents—- the New Testament.  And if
nothing else, this is a very good reason for modern Christians to read novels
about ancient Rome.