36 books like Flavia Albia

I love historical detective novels, and this one, set in AD 70, is a great way to immerse yourself in the Roman world. Lindsey Davis does her research, creating a real, lived-in space that makes the ancient past feel alive and present.

Another big plus is that it’s hilariously entertaining: I’m regularly guffawing out loud while reading it. Best of all? It’s the first book in a fantastic series, and I’ve enjoyed following private instigator Marcus Didius Falco, and then later his daughter, Flavia Alba, over a number of adventures across the city of Rome and the wider Empire.

I love unusual combinations, like a medieval nun who’s also an experienced sleuth with a sharp tongue and an unflappable demeanor. To Dame Frevisse, murder is an unwanted disruption of the quiet life she craves, yet her nimble brain and passion for justice impel her to get involved. She will keep probing until the truth is found, even if that truth isn’t what others want to hear. 

In this book, Dame Frevisse is asked to investigate the death of a man she despised, which doesn’t help her attitude. One of the things I like best about Dame Frevisse is her rich inner life, as she struggles with not-so-godly attitudes and finds moments of deep peace while practicing what to us may look like dry, tedious, duties.

Who would expect a queen’s lady-in-waiting might be a spy? 

Ursula Blanchard is a genteel but penniless female trying to survive in the cut-throat world of Elizabethan court intrigue. She proves her intelligence and resourcefulness to Queen Elizabeth’s spymaster, who takes her under his protective wing—a two-edged sword, since it means Ursula is often called into dangerous undercover missions. The vivid, impeccably researched backdrop of Elizabethan England adds to the drama and provides fascinating color.   

In addition to her ability to unravel complicated plots, I appreciate how Ursula often faces ethical dilemmas. In this novel, she is forced to choose between saving a friendship and protecting the queen. She also proves certain male “experts” wrong when she cracks a series of coded messages.

Is there a better book title than The Last Camel Died at Noon? When I saw this book in the bookstore, I bought it instantly. What curious mind wouldn’t? I had to know the who, what, where, when, and why of this story. And to my delight, it was set in the early twentieth century in one of my favorite, exotic countries, Egypt. Archeologist couple Amelia Peabody and husband Radcliffe Emerson, are Nick and Nora Charles, Mary Russell and Sherlock Holmes, and Tommy and Tuppence Beresford all rolled into one. The Last Camel is the sixth book in Elizabeth Peter’s humorous, mystery series. I’ve read them all many times over. I recommended starting with the first book, Crocodile on the Sandbank. 

I was hooked in the first chapter when the protagonist, Mary Russell, meets Sherlock Holmes, who is retired. There – do I have to say more?

She is a young woman and Sherlock is, well, Sherlock, and yet she matches wits with him while they end up in the middle of a creative and a bit scary Sherlock Holmes-ish tale. I couldn’t wait to get and read the sequels.

I find myself struggling with the impulse to see the great empires as superhumans or so different from me that I could never understand how they live as they do.

This book reminded me that my fears and selfish desires aren’t so different from those of the Romans. I see signs of their impact in my everyday life, and I constantly wonder what life was like for Romans who never would have thought that people like me would be studying them centuries later. This book takes me into the mindset of people living in constant threat of annihilation and how it may impact my view of humanity. 

I hold up my hands and admit to being a nerd when it comes to ancient coins – there is something immediate and tangible about the past and the messages people communicated on these small, everyday objects exchanging hands.

Clare Rowan’s book (and also Liv Yarrow’s book, The Roman Republic to 49 BCE: Using Coins as Sources) is a great introduction to understanding how to ‘read’ ancient Roman coins and what they can help us understand about the end of the Roman Republic and the birth of the Empire.

Plus, as a visual learner, I love that there are so many images in the book!

What I really enjoy about this book is the engaging and lively way in which Emma Dench examines, across a broad chronological (third century BC to third century AD) and geographical scope, the various different ways in which local peoples, groups, identities, and cultures experienced and responded to Roman power.

I particularly appreciate how the emphasis is not on accepting a sense of loyalty to Rome but rather the importance of the political currency of Roman symbols of power within a complex and wide-ranging negotiation of identity in the Mediterranean world. Perhaps one of my favourite things about the book is the diverse range of places, peoples, and evidence explored.

If you want to know how the Ancient Romans lived, what better way to do it than eat the same food?

This is a great little recipe book. Sally Grainger has taken a bunch of Apicius’s Ancient Roman recipes, which are notoriously vague when it comes to actual instructions, and put them together so that you can recreate Roman cuisine in your own kitchen.

I’m not brave enough to have tried some recipes, and there are others I’m still not sure about (looking at you, garum sauce!), but the deep-fried honey fritters are amazing! 

There are, of course, lots of amazing non-fiction resources on Ancient Rome, but I love the way this one is written as a travel guide, as though you’re a tourist clutching a copy of Lonely Planet.

This is a fun and accessible book, easy to dip in and out of, but also great to read in one hit. There aren’t any emperors or empire-defining battles in this one, just walking tours of the city, tips on where to eat and what to see, and where to go for shopping and entertainment.

The only disappointing thing about this book is the realisation that time travel isn’t actually a thing.