Recommendations

Conn Iggulden once again proves himself a master of historical fiction with Tyrant, the second novel in his epic trilogy chronicling the rise of Nero and the slow, sinister unraveling of Rome’s soul. This is historical storytelling at its absolute finest—gripping, intelligent, and darkly compelling.

The Roman emperors—Caligula, Claudius, and Nero—are vividly brought to life in all their terrifying complexity. Caligula’s madness, Claudius’s manipulation, and Nero’s chilling transformation are explored with a deft hand, but it is Agrippina who truly haunts these pages. Her portrayal is nothing short of chilling: equal parts political genius and unrelenting force of nature, she dominates the narrative like a specter, calculating and unstoppable.

The novel opens with a death—shocking and symbolic—and from there, the blood flows. Marriages become weapons, alliances turn to betrayals, and the corridors of power are painted with murder and manipulation. The plotting is taut and laced with tension, as Iggulden follows young Nero’s path from vulnerable pawn to the brink of monstrous power. The political machinations are as deadly as any battlefield.

There are strong echoes here of Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall and Philippa Gregory’s Tudor dramas—dense with courtly intrigue, psychological insight, and a sense that history is a blade turned constantly toward its own characters. Iggulden’s attention to historical detail is immaculate, yet he never sacrifices momentum for exposition. The research is seamlessly woven into a narrative that races forward with the brutal energy of the Empire itself.

If Tyrant is about anything, it is the cost of ambition in a world where blood ties can be fatal and love is as dangerous as hate. As Nero begins his twisted ascent, the reader is left in a state of breathless anticipation—and a fair amount of dread—for what is still to come.

A brilliant continuation of the series. Iggulden’s storytelling is immersive, visceral, and impossible to put down. I eagerly await the final part of the trilogy.

A Masterful Portrait of Ambition and Humanity

The Cardinal by Alison Weir is an absolutely riveting triumph of historical fiction. With her blend of meticulous research and narrative flair, Weir breathes vivid life into one of the Tudor era’s most enigmatic figures—Cardinal Thomas Wolsey. This is not just a political biography in fictional form; it’s an intimate, deeply human portrait of a man often relegated to the shadows of history.

From the very first page, we are swept into the extraordinary journey of a butcher’s son from Ipswich, whose brilliance propels him to the heart of power beside Henry VIII. The novel captures both Wolsey’s dazzling rise—driven by intellect, ambition, and an unshakable belief in his divine calling—and his devastating fall, as the demands of loyalty, love, and power collide.

What sets The Cardinal apart is its emotional resonance. Weir masterfully explores the duality of Wolsey’s existence: the public statesman, builder of England’s church and state, and the private man, whose hidden life is filled with passion, longing, and familial love. It’s speculative in just the right ways—never straying from plausibility, yet adding heart and depth that history books often lack.

This novel also casts fresh light on the early reign of Henry VIII, not just as a king but as a friend and betrayer. The infamous divorce question looms large, and Weir handles it with nuance, showing how it became the undoing of one of Henry’s most devoted servants.

For fans of the Tudor period—and especially those who enjoy richly imagined, character-driven historical fiction—The Cardinal is essential reading. A gripping tale of power and downfall, passion and principle, it is Alison Weir at her best.