The title of the present review originates from a 1963 movie (Le mani sulla città) directed by Francesco Rosi and dealing with a contractor and elected city councilman (Rod Steiger) who manages to use political power in a period of instability, after World War II, in order to pursue his own private business. The movie, like D.'s book, highlights very clearly the political machinations behind the built environment. Of course, no comparison is possible with Republican Rome, where elected officials commissioned public buildings on behalf of the res publica and more and more often used them as a tool for self-advancement. Moreover, Architecture and Politics in Republican Rome is not a tale of secret deals, bribes, and blackmail: in the introduction D. states that “the history of Republican architecture is the history of individuals and groups developing strategies to maneuver within the constraints imposed by the system” (3). She examines the role played by the Senate, by elected magistrates (consuls, censors, praetors, aediles, quaestors, tribunes of the plebs, dictators), and by the citizen body. No doubt buildings and monuments are among the most important sources for the reconstruction of a human society in a given time and place: they were made to satisfy practical needs that implied an extremely broad coincidence of wills, inventions, skills, abilities, and resources like no other product of human activity. Therefore, by reading their remains, one can extract fundamental information on the social, economic, political, cultural, and technological aspects of the society to which they belonged.

In her introduction, D. states that scholarship dealing with Republican architecture “frequently privileges formal issues” and shows “relatively little interest in its urbanistic qualities,” whereas the “propagandistic content” is the driving force behind much of the research on imperial buildings (1). Her work is presented as “the first book to explore the intersection between Roman Republican building practices and politics”: there are just “some (but not many) volumes on Republican Art and Architecture, with only generic reference to historical context.”Footnote ¹ This seems to be an old cliché, though: ten years ago, a thorough review of the field of Roman architecture made it clear that “on assiste dans les années 1970 à un changement fondamental dans l'interprétation des monuments. Désormais, l'architecture est perçue de plus en plus comme le produit d'un contexte sociopolitique spécifique.”Footnote ² We need only recall Filippo Coarelli's almost complete treatment of the city of Rome, divided into topographical sectors and analyzed in chronological order, to realize that he had already approached the archaeology of the city of Rome relying on history, religion, politics, art, and architecture.Footnote ³ Therefore D.'s approach is not really new, and the political events and building programs that she tackles are not always successfully intertwined, probably owing to the reiteration of the same layout in every chapter: in some periods the emphasis is too often on political and military events, with an excessive stress on names and dates.

D. examines the relationships between architecture and politics over a period of four and a half centuries (509–44 BCE) and primarily explores strategies and intentions (declared or hidden?) behind the built environment, rather than its reception: she views the transformation of Rome's cityscape and the distribution of monumental buildings over the map of the city as reflecting, and born from, the practical, political, and social realities and ideologies of the time and the ambitions and aims of power factions or individual leaders. One might be surprised to read a study on Roman architecture relying on intentions: it would be like writing the history of Rome's Baroque architecture exclusively from the point of view of popes and aristocratic families, disregarding the actual buildings – their design, construction, spatiality, and urban qualities. However, any approach is legitimate.Footnote ⁴ D.'s book demonstrates a wide knowledge of the sources as well as of the buildings whose remains have provided solid and original documentation in support of her arguments. She does not privilege detailed descriptions of structures, and often moves directly from intentions to building plans, which she integrates and inserts in a wider topographical context; she also offers interpretative reconstructions of the original appearance of a number of monuments. Even when it becomes inevitable to read major building initiatives from conception to completion – I refer to some milestones of Roman Republican architecture (e.g. the building in opus incertum at Testaccio and the so-called Tabularium) – D. does not limit her research to structural issues, which have fascinated, but also led astray, many historians of Roman architecture. As a result, her interest in the remains, widespread in time and space, of Republican buildings allows her to review in detail the growth of, and the changes in, the urban fabric, as well as the exceptional contribution of architecture to the reconstruction of Rome's history. The book tackles these subjects with admirable thoroughness, adding to scholarship in an area that has greatly flourished in the last few decades.

After the acknowledgements, which recall the author's visits to almost all the archaeological sites in Rome, D. explains that the subject is treated in seven chapters that examine a sequence of historical phases from 509 BCE (the beginning of the Republic) to 44 BCE (Julius Caesar's assassination). Each chapter reviews the foreign and domestic political and administrative framework, followed by the analysis of the main religious buildings, the display of the spoils of war, and the civic development. Conclusions mark the end of each chapter; that at the end of Chapter 7, although longer than the previous ones, does not concern the whole book. It was clearly not within the scope of D.'s work, but how Augustan and Imperial Rome dealt with the legacy of Republican-era architecture would have been an ideal subject for a broader conclusion. If we analyze not only what remains in Rome itself but also the buildings that survive in central Italy, we will easily realize that Republican architects and builders created almost all of the architectural types of the Imperial period. Some, e.g., the Theater of Pompey, were more progressive and innovative in design and ideology than many projects of the empire. I would also have liked to read about the conservation and remodeling of Republican buildings from the Augustan age onward.

Full-page phase maps showing the location of the buildings under discussion appear at the beginning of each chapter. The photos are mostly original (but some are too dark: see, e.g., Fig. 3.61), like the digital reconstructions (sometimes with an unreliable background: Fig. 5.4 a–b) and the finely drawn, yet simplified, plans of individual buildings. (Note that the preference over excavation plans has sometimes produced minor misunderstandings: see below for the case of the Temple of Castor and Pollux in Circo.)

It appears to be a widespread fashion to choose simple, yet elegantly expressive chapter titles (e.g. Chapter 4's “Turmoil and tension”) in recent books on Roman architecture, which in my view recall too much those of 19th-c. novels. However, Chapter 1, dealing with the years 509–338 BCE, is entitled quite simply “A republic takes shape.” Despite the “scarcity of archaeological material” (38) from almost the entire 5th c., architecture is represented by great temples nearly uniform in design, stressing “patrician solidarity at the top of the hierarchy” (38) and dismissing the notion of an impoverished state (D. highlights the cultural exchanges between Rome and the Greek world). Chapter 2, from 337 to 218 BCE (the start of the Second Punic War), focuses on the factional strategies and intrigues behind military and gentilician competition for self- or group advancement. Public building intensified, in particular with temple construction after victories in the battlefield, aqueducts, and roads.Footnote ⁵ D. highlights that the sponsorship of monumental architecture was regarded as a tool that would bring visibility and unfair advantage in the competition for public office, and argues that this situation compelled the Roman state to impose stricter limits to public projects. She analyzes the interventions promoted by the Senate, the magistrates, and the citizen body and explains quite clearly who could build what: indeed, from the early days of the Republic, a small number of aristocratic families whose members were elected to office as censors and aediles controlled the commissioning of public buildings funded by the state and supervised by the Senate.

Chapter 3 covers the period 217–134 BCE and goes under the heading “A state of fear, and new horizons.” With its 71 pages, instead of an average of 30 or so, this is the longest chapter in the book because of the extensive, and in parts excessive, discussion about spoils and sculpture: cult statues (110–20); a digression on the introduction of the honorary arch (121–22); finally an examination of the Sant'Omobono/via della Consolazione and the Paris-Munich reliefs (122–28), which would deserve an entire book or, at least, the inclusion of the word “art” in the title. There are also some unnecessary historical details: sometimes the narrative is unbalanced in favor of the military side (i.e. who led what army when and to where). However, it is a fact that the exploits of Fulvius Nobilior, Aemilius Lepidus, Scipio Aemilianus, Caecilius Metellus, and Lucius Mummius made Greek design and materials the mark of lavish triumph (the first temple entirely built in Greek marble made its appearance in Rome around 148 BCE) and reshaped the cityscape, side by side with the introduction of the “fast and economical” concrete technology that allowed the construction of vast and innovative architectural complexes (146). In those years, Roman magistrates approximated the euergistic acts of the Hellenistic kings, with important political consequences on Roman society.

D. continues the military theme in Chapters 4 (“Turmoil and tension,” 133–90 BCE) and 5 (“Civil war and aftermath,” 89–70 BCE), and quite properly notes that “the struggles played out visibly in the built city” (181). The Gracchan and post-Gracchan temple foundations, all honoring deities already attested in Rome, saw the use of travertine or stuccoed tufo, a phenomenon that implies a return to old Republican mores in the face of foreign luxury. In these central chapters, D. explores why “manubial monuments took on a more civic character” (182) and why some tribunes devised “a language of their own that replaced construction with alteration and destruction” (182). As for the 80s and 70s BCE, and particularly as regards Sulla's projects, the concentration of building power established new standards for self-promotion through architecture and gradually weakened the state's constraints.

Finally, Chapters 6 (69–55 BCE) and 7 (54–44 BCE), both entitled “Pompey, Caesar, and rivals,” deal with the great men who dominated the city of Rome with different strategies in the Late Republic: Pompey with his architectural complex in the Campus Martius, Clodius with his demolitions, and Caesar with his ambitious building projects. D. highlights how “the centuries-old constraints that kept individuals from accruing excessive political advantage from public building were finally undone” (272). In my view there are still too many dates, legions, and names – for example, the tribune Q. Caecilius Metellus Nepos appears on p. 216 and promptly disappears – but Republican architecture is effectively analyzed and interpreted. In the last chapter, which provides a comprehensive account of Caesar's building program, D. describes a dictator who understood more clearly than his predecessors and rivals that building in service of the res publica could go close to overturning the Republic and creating a monarchy. The extraordinary honors granted by the Senate suggest that he fell victim to his own success: his opponents, too, “turned to the persuasive power of architecture” to rescue “their flailing Republic” (275).

After 43 pages of notes (1,797 in total), there follows a bibliography that has all the basics but is sometimes short on non-Anglophone publications.Footnote ⁶ For example, the discussion of the Theater-Portico of Pompey (229–36), rather than privileging short reports on occasional excavations, would have benefited from two fundamental monographs: Monterroso Checa Reference Monterroso Checa2010, which is particularly important as regards the Temple of Venus Victrix (219), and Madeleine Reference Madeleine2015. More on the historical-cultural side is Cadario Reference Cadario2011, which examines the sculptural program of Pompey's complex in the light of the main themes of Pompeian propaganda: the memory of the third triumph in 61 BCE, the celebration of the power of Venus Victrix, and the exploitation of wonders as the best way to win popular favor. On Julius Caesar's tomb in the Campus Martius, one should take into consideration Caligari Reference Caligari2001, which places the funerary monument between the Circus Flaminius and the Tiber (but without conclusive arguments). The “frieze” of the Basilica Aemilia, which D. dates to ca. 55 BCE and considers to be “a little over 21 meters” (239 and Fig. 6.17a–c), in fact may have consisted of segments no longer than 3.2 m. She is aware that there is no consensus on their date (see 313 n.190, to which I would add Tomei Reference Tomei2010, supporting the post-14 BCE date proposed by K. S. Freyberger) but does not explain why she dismisses the Augustan date which, of course, would put them in a completely different light. Considering that those reliefs glorify Rome's (legendary) history from its foundation to the end of the Republic, they would have deserved a longer discussion rather than a mere description. Back in time, dealing with the Porticus Octavia built by Gnaeus Octavius after his triumph of 168 BCE (128), I would have cited Senseney Reference Senseney2011, which sees Late Republican porticoes as precursors of the Imperial fora. An important article on the area of the Circus Flaminius, dealing with the only surviving fragment identified to date of an Ionic capital from the Temple of Jupiter Stator, is mentioned (296 n.364) but is missing from the bibliography.Footnote ⁷ Last but not least, future studies should take into account Marcattili Reference Marcattili2016–17, which provides a social and religious interpretation of temples with transverse cella.

In the following paragraphs I include some bibliographical references that were not available when D.'s book was published but, nonetheless, are fundamental with regard to various aspects of Republican art and architecture. Dealing with pediments, and specifically with “the first known pedimental sculptures from a Republican temple” (52–53), the author mentions the Temple of Victoria on the Palatine (294 BCE) but overlooks the renowned pedimental sculpture from the Temple of Mater Matuta (mid 6th c. BCE). Because her book also discusses the terracotta pediment from via di San Gregorio (90–92), it is necessary to take into account a new, fundamental work on pedimental sculpture in Rome: Kaderka Reference Kaderka2018. The complex question of the presence of Greek architects in Rome deserves an important update: regarding Hermodorus, “an architect from Salamis of Cyprus, who, steeped in the building traditions of the Hellenistic east, was accustomed to working with marble” (95), a different explanation for his presence in Rome has been provided by Coarelli, who has highlighted the architect's link with the shipsheds at Cyprus during King Ptolemy VI Philometor's second reign (163–145 BCE) and has argued that the architect was called to Rome to design and build shipsheds on the eve of the Third Punic War (149–146 BCE).Footnote ⁸ He might have been requested from the king by Quintus Caecilius Metellus Macedonicus, Scipio Aemilianus, or, more likely, Cato the Elder, who solicited the war against Carthage: note that Cato (Malcovati, ORF, Cato, 180) lauded a certain Ptolemaic king as rex optimus atque beneficissimus, and this king is generally assumed to be Ptolemy VI.Footnote ⁹

Some years ago, I stressed that the building in opus incertum in the Testaccio area, which Lucos Cozza and I have suggested can be identified with the Navalia, was built “dopo il tempio di Giove Statore e prima del tempio di Marte, quindi intorno al 140 a.C., o forse prima di entrambi.”Footnote ¹⁰ This is acknowledged by D. (303 n.193), who however prefers a date from the end of the 2nd c. BCE and states that “it is possible the architect [Hermodorus] was still alive at the end of the second century” (175–77). Coarelli believes that the Navalia were Hermodorus’ first, and not last, commission in Rome, and he has definitively dismissed the involvement of the orator Marcus Antonius, propraetor from 102 to 100 BCE, in their construction. The presence in Rome of the architect, “un professionista esperto in tal genere di costruzioni, formatosi al servizio di sovrani ellenistici come Tolemeo VI, e attivo in una delle più importanti basi navali del regno lagide, Cipro,” should be dated to around 150 BCE.Footnote ¹¹ I have already commented on the coincidence of the fifty sheds in the building in opus incertum and the units of 50 warships of the Roman navy: Coarelli recalls that, when Rome declared war on Carthage and Lucius Marcius Censorinus (ca. 149 BCE) was in charge of the fleet, his forces “sailed for Sicily, intending to cross over thence to Utica. They were conveyed in 50 quinqueremes and 100 hemioliai, besides many open boats and transports” (App., Pun. 75). For chronological reasons, Coarelli's contribution is obviously missing from D.'s discussion, but it is worth taking it into consideration because it offers a very different picture of this crucial period in Rome's history and architecture.Footnote ¹² Suffice it to say that D.'s discussion of the shipsheds – if their identification is correct – should shift from Chapter 4 (133–90 BCE) back to Chapter 3 (and, more appropriately, to the “New horizons” section), where, not by chance, she introduces “the Concrete Revolution” (104). The increased use of concrete is presented as a major cause for the weakening of the old republican restraints by ambitious magistrates: the new medium, quick and economical when compared with ashlar masonry, “broadened their imaginations to conceive … of vast building projects” (146) in the short term. However, “the first known deployment of concrete for a large-scale superstructure in Rome” (177) may date back to the mid 2nd c. BCE.Footnote ¹³

D. has imposed some limits on her discussion. For example, one topic missing from her book is how aristocratic houses were located within the urban fabric. Private architecture is not her focus, and some domus are mentioned in passing and only when they intersect with the public sphere. It is true that privati did not deploy their own resources on state construction, and the author claims that “despite their role in public life, buildings funded by private means – such as houses, tombs, commercial structures, and private entertainment venues – appear only where they elucidate the history of public building” (3). Yet, competition and ambition played a great role and had an impact on architecture in the private sphere, too. Although plots of land and actual houses were purchased and built with private funds, and were often demolished for political reasons, some of their spaces were public.Footnote ¹⁴ After all, D. admits that “as the boundaries between public and private grew increasingly permeable, controls on self-advancement through architecture weakened” (243–44).

I would have liked to see more space given to “shrines or sanctuaries without major cult buildings” (3). The introduction of the cult of Isis and its political implications would have been a very interesting topic to discuss (yet Isis is not listed in the index at all). Also, why treat the “San Omobono/Via della Consolazione monument base” (122–26) and not the monument of the Asian kings (likewise on display at the Centrale Montemartini in Rome and with the same provenance from the southern side of the Capitoline), which, despite the missing sculptural decoration, is particularly intriguing with regard to the role that Rome played in the Mediterranean area? Another topic that in my view deserved more attention – possibly a specific section – is ephemeral architecture as opposed to stone buildings. Such works of limited duration (ad tempus: see, e.g., Suet., Caes. 10.1 and 39.3) – for example the circus Flaminius and some costly buildings erected in the Late Republic – marked special events and were as socially significant as the permanent ones.

Because temples are ubiquitous in D.'s book, I would like to make some clarifications based on my personal experience, to finally move on to other building types.Footnote ¹⁵ The author identifies the Temple of the Lares Permarini with the temple in via delle Botteghe Oscure (87 and 224) and that of the Nymphs with Temple D at Largo Argentina. By adding “though possibly the other way round” (87), she bypasses decades of fierce debate on this topic, which is not just a topographical one, having strong connections with historical and administrative issues. It is true that “literary sources place the Temple of Fortuna Equestris near the later Theater of Pompey” (87), but in the relevant map (Fig. 3.1) the temple is located between the Porticus Metelli and the Capitoline Hill (also in Fig. 1.27, 2 and Fig. 1.32, 27).Footnote ¹⁶ It is not true that when (in 1976) Fausto Zevi published his identification of the Temple of Mars in Circo beneath the church of S. Salvatore in Campo, “archaeologists located the Temple of Neptune in architectural remains beneath the fifteenth-century palazzo of Lorenzo Manili: Tortorici Reference Tortorici1988, 73–5” (126 n.341). Tortorici's article does not deal at all with the Temple of Neptune and Laurentius Manlius's house, where only some columns drums had been identified, having been published by Castagnoli in 1985 purely to highlight a mistake in Lanciani's Forma urbis Romae.Footnote ¹⁷ Possibly related to that temple, D. argues that the Ara of Domitius Ahenobarbus (126–27) did not stand at ground level because in the so-called census relief (now at the Louvre) the altar almost in the middle appears to sever the two ministrants behind it: she suggests the existence of a lost base about 1.5 m high. Yet, the top surface of the altar seems to be sunken and, most of all, D.'s photo (Fig. 3.57) enhances that visual effect, being taken right above, and too close to, the ministrants’ heads; from a distance they simply appear to be behind the altar. (After all, how could the sculptor achieve the “correct” effect?) The argument does not seem to be compelling.

Note that the cella of the Temple of Neptune was larger than D. assumes (126), as clarified by the (unpublished) excavation led by Coarelli in the summer of 2001 (in which I took part, together with Simone Sisani) behind the Renaissance house of Laurentius Manlius. Beside a marble tile and a fragmentary leg, the dig brought to light the east side of the podium (I had already identified a stretch of the west side) and clarified that the external width of the temple was approximately 16 m, like Temple A at Largo Argentina and the cella of the Temple of Castor and Pollux in Circo. Likewise, the Temple of Neptune must have been hexastyle and, because an aureus minted in 41 BCE (D.'s Fig. 4.5) has certainly simplified the number of columns on the front but may be reliable as regards the side walls of the cella, which appears to be as large as the pronaos, the temple might have been prostyle. If so, the internal width of the cella was about 13 m and could accommodate the Ara, which measures 5.75 by 1.75 m – D. was concerned because “the monument's four-sidedness militates in favor of a place where all faces were visible” (126).Footnote ¹⁸

The Temple of Castor and Pollux in Circo does not have “a tetrastyle pronaos porch” (194) according to the marble plan from the Via Anicia and Vitruvius (Arch. 4.8.4); on the former it is clearly hexastyle, while Vitruvius does not mention the number of columns. D. adds that, unlike the Temples of Juno Regina, Jupiter Stator, and Hercules Musarum, “which were oriented roughly north-northeast to square with the Circus, the Temple of Castor and Pollux is only slightly off north” (194). In fact, this is what is shown in her map of Rome (Fig. 5.1) and is one of those cases in which a plan of the actual structures would have been more helpful. It is undisputed that the Temple of Castor and Pollux in Circo had the same orientation as the temples mentioned above – that is, the same as the Circus Flaminius, as D.'s Fig. 1.32 (a plan at a higher scale) confirms. This is not a matter of a few degrees (the difference is approximately 30°) or an irrelevant detail: the actual orientation of the temple is consistent with its construction after the circus (in that area only the temples older than the circus were oriented to the points of the compass, like the buildings of the central Campus Martius) and, combined with the location close to the Tiber, may explain the transverse cella. D. specifies that the temple is “variously located beneath the church of S. Tommaso in Cenci [sic], in Piazza delle Cinque Scole, or, most likely, beneath a block of apartment buildings” (307 n.99). However, the location beneath the church is unanimously considered to be mistaken (except for the Museo Nazionale Romano, where the marble plan from the Via Anicia is on display with reference to the church), because the walls preserved in its crypts and originally identified as the substructure of the pronaos belong to the façade of an imperial warehouse.Footnote ¹⁹

This is just an example of the author's unwillingness to tackle contrasting arguments and, if possible, to agree with one author or the other – perhaps we can call it diplomacy? The book covers the archaeological evidence (which is very extensive) and its interpretations in a thoroughly careful way, but too often collects and summarizes rather than really exploring them. A telling example is provided by D.'s endorsement of the large-scale reconstruction of the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus (19), which in her view occupied the entire grid made of cappellaccio blocks partially exposed in the Capitoline Museums and suggests “close interaction with the eastern Mediterranean.” The layout and architecture of this temple have been debated for decades and it is regrettable that alternative points of view are relegated to a single endnote. Many scholars question the likelihood and the structural practicability of the colossal design, and Cairoli Fulvio Giuliani has clearly stated that “è del tutto inverosimile che si sia potuto realizzare un organismo di quelle dimensioni.”Footnote ²⁰ Because later reconstructions of the temple rested on the original foundations, since 2006 I have been waiting for a realistic reconstruction of the Imperial, marble pronaos of such a colossal temple with a central entablature spanning about 12 m (see D.'s Fig. 2.10 showing interaxials: for the Capitoline temple, the caption gives “approximately 9.5–12 m”).Footnote ²¹ The greatest marble architrave ever used in Rome, belonging to the colossal Temple of Serapis located next to the present piazza del Quirinale, does not exceed the length of 4.9 m. Since the publication of D.'s book, Gabriele Cifani has reiterated that the Capitoline temple “never had stone architraves” and that “for all phases (from the Archaic period to the late antiquity) the architraves of this temple should be imagined [sic] as being of wood as clearly reported by Vitruvius” (who has clearly nothing to do with the Imperial phases); his conclusion is that that the approach to the Capitoline temple requires, among other things, “the use of clear and verifiable graphic reconstructions of the plan and elevation of any hypothesized model.”Footnote ²² To date I have only seen a forest of wooden trusses inside the original temple that, however, does not clarify the structure of either the original pediment or the imperial one. Since the reliefs depicting the temple after the Flavian restorations show a huge marble entablature with a pediment above (including pedimental sculptural groups), I would like to see reliable reconstructions of how that pronaos was built “in modo compatibile con le leggi fisiche e con la tecnologia dell'epoca.”Footnote ²³ Unfortunately, the standard reply is that this issue goes beyond the chronological limits of Archaic Rome, and so the structural problems are forgotten.

Still on the Capitoline Hill, dealing with the last stretch of the triumphal procession, D. claims that “finally the parade advanced up the clivus Capitolinus to the Arx, and thence to the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus” (60), thus suggesting that the northern summit of the hill was involved, which is not the case. This misinterpretation is consistent with her later description of the arcaded gallery of the “Tabularium” as “a processional way for the final leg of the triumphal procession” (197). D. publishes two alternative reconstructions of the top of the surviving structure of the so-called Tabularium: one with a single temple (Fig. 5.4a) and one showing Coarelli's three temples (Fig. 5.4b). She seems to favor my proposed Temple of Juno Moneta (189) but does not tackle the different arguments in detail.Footnote ²⁴ This is much better, however, than those scholars who claim that “the fact that there is not a single reference to such a thundering trio of temples grossly dominating the forum is problematic.”Footnote ²⁵ It is not clear what kind of reference one should expect to read or see: a depiction on a marble relief? Many Roman monuments are not even mentioned by literary sources (e.g. the Arch of Titus). It is true that neither whatever overlooked the Forum from the top of the “Tabularium” nor the surviving substructure can be linked to any explicit written or visual record – although Ovid's alta Moneta (Fast. 1.638) is quite a referenceFootnote ²⁶ – but I cannot see why the proposed temples demote “the architectural meaning and essence” of the surviving structure.”Footnote ²⁷

Finally, dealing with Julius Caesar's project of a theater on the Capitoline slope (267), in fact D. imagines two theaters: the first located “on the east slope of the Arx, near the Tarpeian Rock in the area of the Carcer” (relying on Suetonius, and against Coarelli), the second being the actual theater of Marcellus. Yet the former, with the Forum of Caesar making “a magnificent backdrop” and recreating the complex theater-portico of Pompey the Great, was proposed by Purcell and Wiseman, overlooking the fact that the Tarpeius Mons is the entire Capitoline Hill.Footnote ²⁸ The location of the theater near the Tarpeian Rock is not the only possibility.Footnote ²⁹ Leaving the topographical matters aside, D. has missed the opportunity to discuss that, in Gros’ words, “la mise en scène, gigantesque, relevait des recherches hellénistiques les plus ambitieuses, et l'on ne peut manquer d’évoquer devant un tel projet l'acropole de Pergame.”Footnote ³⁰

In conclusion, the study of Roman architecture is characterized by different disciplinary approaches. It is not only archaeologists, art historians, and classicists who work on Roman buildings, but a wide range of other specialists including architects, engineers, and geologists. I have clarified from the outset that formal issues were abandoned several decades ago in favor of a broader cultural approach. In the last years the priority seems to be understanding “how a building was built,” or “how it was viewed,” or “why it was conceived.” Anyone may believe that their own approach is the right one and blame the (presumed) methodological narrowness of others: for example, those who focus on the procurement and transport of building materials, the building process, or the socioeconomic impact of construction, are almost seen as “masons” by those who instead value only theory and visual engagement in search of innovative and creative arguments, not necessarily related to reality (but does it matter, if the style is sublime?).Footnote ³¹ My feeling is that these different groups of scholars do not actually understand each other and are not interested in doing so. It even seems to me that first-hand knowledge of a building, which can be acquired only by means of a long-term survey, brings discredit to its author. Whatever may solve long-debated issues – a new discovery, even an archival document – becomes a disturbing element because what matters is to keep on speculating. It is not surprising, therefore, that too many acquisitions are overlooked. To sum up, it is difficult if not impossible to please all the members of the academic world.

D. has made her choice and sees Roman buildings primarily as social objects that convey social meanings. Overall, her book is of great value, especially for all those historians and archaeologists who are unaware of the latest research on the urban history of Republican Rome. It is also a very useful and readable book for non-specialists wishing to gain knowledge about the development of the city. We can only express appreciation and gratitude for this work that not only elucidates a rich corpus of buildings that in some cases have been poorly understood, but also adds a historical perspective to present debates about the built environment. Like literary evidence, architecture is a fundamental source of information about the social and political history of Rome. I cannot deny that D.'s book will be considered to be too archaeological by some art historians (especially those who seek only intellectually challenging contributions), too art historical by some archaeologists, and probably too linked to visual and material culture by some historians and classicists; yet, it is precisely thanks to D.'s interdisciplinary approach that it is possible to produce innovative scholarship, train bright students, and create the next generations of Romanists.