Within the first few pages of SPQR by Mary Beard, one reads about scientific studies of human excrement found in a cesspit in Herculaneum, Southern Italy (playfully, I have to say that first reading this made me think of the Latin phrase, scientia non olet). Beard then comments that, at least in this region, ancient Romans seemed to have consumed a lot of egg and sea urchins. It was upon reading this reference to the minutiae of human excrement studies I realised: this is a book for me.

While I greatly enjoy narrative, analytical, comparative, critical, thematic, and microhistory, I find historiography—specifically scientific and quantitative history—compelling. Far from being “dry,” as it is sometimes unfairly characterised, this approach helps ground historical narratives in tangible evidence and offers valuable insights across other historical methods. For example, recent genetic studies on ancient Roman skeletal remains have revealed patterns of migration, ancestry, and demographic shifts, providing a richer understanding of Roman society (a very recent study can be found here). Similarly, modern studies of climate patterns have shed light on environmental factors that shaped historical events in ancient Rome (another recent study).

In SPQR, Beard skilfully blends various approaches to the history of Ancient Rome (unfortunately she does not include much in the way of genetic history). Spanning almost 1,000 years of history in just over 600 pages, Beard focuses primarily on historical analysis, cultural interpretation, and a reexamination of traditional narratives about Ancient Rome. While the constraints of space naturally limit depth and microanalysis, Beard’s talent as a historian shines through in her ability to vividly evoke minute details within broad historical strokes. Case in point: her reference to studies of human excrement as part of a sweeping summation of an extraordinary array of new discoveries.

In addition to important archaeological discoveries and forensic evidence from skeletal remains, Beard emphasises throughout the significance of material culture—from coins and clothing to inscriptions and ruins—in understanding the daily lives of Romans beyond elite-centric historical texts. This integrative approach provides a balanced perspective. Beard transitions seamlessly from physical evidence illuminating Roman demographics and social structures to detailed studies of things like aqueducts, sanitation systems, and city planning, tying together insight into the brilliance of Roman engineering, their sophisticated urban designs, and their impact on the daily lives of ordinary Romans.

It is this sort of integrative analysis at which Beard excels, showing how one aspect of Roman life influenced another. From a systems point of view, SPQR is an invaluable in obtaining a sense of complex Roman society. To give an example, we learn how Roman engineering and city planning directly affected public health and social interaction. The widespread use of lead plumbing, while technologically impressive, led to significant rise in lead poisoning, with notable effects on public health. Similarly, Rome’s vulnerability to malaria necessitated a constant influx of people to sustain its population. These are some examples of how Beard offers readers a deeply textured understanding of the relationship between Ancient Roman structures and systems and the everyday people of Rome.

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The book opens in the middle of the first century BCE with the trial of Lucius Sergius Catilina, a disgruntled and bankrupt aristocrat. Prosecuted by Cicero for conspiring to assassinate Rome’s elected officials and “burn the place down,” Catiline’s story serves as a device for Beard to encircle what she sees as indicative of life in Ancient Rome.

Cicero, a skilled orator and one of the elites targeted for assassination, famously thwarted the plot in what is often considered his finest hour. Through his brilliant oration, Cicero cemented Catiline’s image as a reckless terrorist—a portrayal that has endured for centuries. Yet Beard urges us to look beyond this caricature. We learn that Catiline’s motivations may have been more complex, rooted in growing socioeconomic inequalities and frustrations with the Roman state. By framing the story in this way, Beard introduces her readers not only to a dramatic historical episode, but also to the deeper societal tensions that underpinned it.

I find this opening to the book highly effective. It serves as an engaging entry point into the history of Rome, immediately spotlighting tensions that Beard explores in greater detail throughout SPQR. More importantly, it introduces readers to a key way of thinking about history. Beard uses the story of Cicero and Catiline to demonstrate why such a detailed account can even be reconstructed—not just from surviving Roman texts, which have remarkably endured the test of time, but also thanks to the work of archaeologists and specialists who tirelessly piece together our understanding of the past. The story also serves as a device for Beard to introduce the manner in which one might think critically about history, such as when raising the question, “might there not be another side to the story?”

The meat of the history then begins in Chapter 2, where Beard surveys the origins of Rome as a bandit village in 750 BC. This rough tribe of brigands would lay the founding myths of Rome’s beginning: the story of twin brothers, Romulus and Remus, sons of Rhea Silvia, the daughter of King Numitor of Alba Longa, and the Roman god of war, Mars.

Rome’s first millennium, as Beard writes, was then one from foundation to, as I would phrase it, turbulent growth. A key driver of this growth, according to Beard, was Rome’s remarkable ability to absorb defeated enemies into its expanding empire. Central to this success was their revolutionary understanding of citizenship: the idea that people could be citizens of a place in which they did not physically reside. This policy enabled Rome to incorporate conquered peoples, strengthen its growing state, and, crucially, reinforce its armies. Coupled with Rome’s ability to absorb and adapt local gods, political systems, and cultural practices, there was an effective strategy to co-opt the conquered into the Roman project. The result was the sine qua non of the constant supply of manpower and the maintenance of loyalty across the diverse territories of the empire.

One of Beard’s main contentions was that the largest army was predisposed to win. Moreover, it is argued the policy of absorption – enabling Rome with the capacity to field larger armies over prolonged periods – was a key element to Rome’s military dominance. Another key element was Rome’s logistical ingenuity. The strategic mobilisation of resources and maintenance of logistical supply lines, so as to endure prolonged campaigns, provided the Roman empire a critical edge over its adversaries.

I find these arguments compelling and reasonable. They appear consistent with other accounts that I have read – Gibbon, Goldworthy, Harper, and Heather (to name a few) come to mind. This isn’t to say that tactical genius, remarkable leadership, and individual valour didn’t play significant roles—Beard herself underscores their importance. However, in otherwise evenly matched battles, it was often the sheer numbers and resource capacity of the Roman army that ultimately tipped the scales in its favour.

An example that supports this contention can be found in the Second Punic War. Hannibal, unquestionably the superior general and a masterful tactician, could win battles. But winning the war was an entirely different matter. As Beard lays it out, Rome was, in many ways, barely holding on. Yet they were capable of playing the long game for reasons outlined. Rome was able to constantly replenish its armies and harass the Carthaginians, recapturing towns in the process – to keep the fight alive, even after some significant defeats. (Readers who play wargames will know how effective such a strategy can be ;)).

This approach sustained Rome until it found its own master tactician: Scipio Africanus. Under his leadership, the Roman armies achieved decisive victory against Carthage, defeating Hannibal at the Battle of Zama in 202 BC.

Another example, perhaps even more famous due to the common adage it inspired, comes from the Battle of Asculum in the 270s BCE. In this confrontation, King Pyrrhus repeatedly defeated Roman forces but suffered unsustainable casualties in doing so. While Rome kept losing individual battles, they ensured Pyrrhus’s army was bled dry—ultimately leading to what we now call a Pyrrhic victory.

Setting aside the fascinating military history, what I appreciate most about SPQR in later chapters is how it offers a clear yet detailed exploration of the development of Roman politics and governance.Beard’s view that Augustus’s ascent to power was a singular turning point in Roman history feels particularly apt, especially in the context of her careful analysis leading up to this moment. The Roman Republic’s political system, as Beard demonstrates, was ultimately ill-equipped to govern an expansive empire. As a result, the “quasi-democracy” of the Republic gave way to an unelected emperor, with Augustus’s image carefully crafted to encapsulate the ideology of this new Roman narrative. The result was a new history of Rome.

This transformation continues to resonate today. Some contemporary thinkers view Augustus’s consolidation of power as a case study in the necessity of maintaining at least a symbolic constitutional monarchy. Others push further, advocating for more authoritarian solutions, while still others argue for the opposite: using Rome as a lesson in the perils of failing to sustain a healthy, functioning democracy. Whatever one’s stance, Rome’s political legacy remains deeply relevant.

On this point, I also enjoyed Beard’s analysis of Rome’s working class, the plebians, over the centuries. This is another aspect of Roman life that still resonates today. Individually, plebeians had little power, but collectively they wielded significant influence. Thus, the power of the mob. By the first century BCE, the plebeians had formed a formal class with their own meetings, elected officials, and record-keeping systems—a remarkable example of grassroots organisation within the broader Roman political structure.

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From the Kings of Rome in Chapter 3 to the Fourteen Emperors in Chapter 10, and the surprising revelations of Chapter 12, Rome Outside Rome—with everything in between—my intention here is not to detail every point, contention, or insight found in SPQR. Instead, let me work toward a conclusion by emphasising this: SPQR is a masterclass in history, delivered by a truly masterful historian. Beard’s exceptional scholarship shines through. She is ever so mindful not to project ideology onto the history, at least as best as humanly and reasonably possible. If there is an event, or a historical artifact not well understood, she will simply lay out what facts are known and leave those facts to be encircled. As a scientist, who has a love for history, this is the sort of analysis I appreciate. In my opinion, it embodies one of the key lessons we can take as students of history: to use one’s fullest capacity in the use of reason and rationality to strive to not project whatever ideology on to the world, as a first principle of analysis. This should stand as a guiding principle in any honest pursuit of understanding, even while acknowledging our innate tendency toward subjective interpretation as human beings.

I know some readers complain about the book’s overall structure and flow. However, as someone who has read a lot of classical philosophy and the especially dense writings of 18th and 19th century philosophers, I would offer this recommendation: sit with this book. Really examine its contents as Beard lays them out. SPQR doesn’t follow algorithmic structure designed to spoon-feed readers pre-digested morsels. Yes, the history has already been written, and the events follow a chronology, but this is a book meant to be worked through rather than simply consumed.

As for criticisms of Beard’s writing in SPQR—particularly the claim that she merely “vomits up information”—I believe such reviewers entirely miss the point. This is not narrative history in a simplistic sense. While SPQR is introductory and broadly accessible, it remains a serious academic work written by one of the most beloved classicists of our time. Beard’s approach deliberately avoids constructing an overly rigid narrative. Yes, her style may feel “chatty” at times—but for true lovers of history, Beard’s chattiness is something to be savored.