This book is a revision of the author's 2004 Exeter thesis, written under the clearly discernible supervision of T. P. Wiseman. As the subtitle suggests, it is as much an examination of the historiography of Republican Rome as it is of the broader mentality of the culture and society that produced and consumed these accounts. Throughout, Richardson offers salutary reminders to the reader that this Roman mentality, especially with regard to conceptions of the nature of human behaviour and the methodology of plausibly reconstructing the past, differs in fundamental and often overlooked respects from that of the modern age. This attention to the underpinnings of Roman historical thought, and to the ways in which they have shaped our extant narratives, is one of the more important contributions made by this work.

Two related phenomena observed across historiography of the Republican period form the basis of this study: ‘the Roman tendency to believe that members of the same gens behave in the same way and consequently do similar things’ and ‘the Roman practice of incorporating material into their historical tradition simply because that material conformed with expectations, or fitted with generally accepted ideas and theories about what is plausible and what is appropriate to history and historiography’ (11–12). While perhaps neither of these observations is strikingly novel to a reader familiar with the episodes, texts and political culture under discussion and recent scholarship thereon, the author's focused treatment of a single gens illuminates in detail the workings and consequences of these cultural norms and literary conventions. Methodologically, in the identification of meaningful repetition and parallelism within the historical tradition, the author has self-consciously opted to err on the side of inclusivity, partly to allow for the supposedly greater alertness and openness of the ancients to see parallels in, and draw connections between, distinct individuals and events. Cicero's conversation with Atticus in the Brutus on the subject of the similarity between the lives of the Greek Themistocles and the Roman Coriolanus is offered as an introductory case study of such an attitude; somewhat surprisingly, however, there is no discussion (or even mention) of other Roman authors, outside of historiography proper, concerned with the systematic construction of parallels across space and time: Varro, Nepos, Plutarch.

The first chapter (‘The Influence of Noble Self-Presentation on Historical Thought and Historiography’) is an excellent cultural historical overview of the relationship at Rome between the élite individual and his gens, and between memories and accounts of the past and highly-stylized self-representations in the present. As with the book as a whole, the discussion in this chapter demonstrates a firm command of the sources and takes into account the vast array of relevant current scholarship, though the import of certain more recent works for the author's arguments seems at times under-appreciated (e.g. Gary Farney, Ethnic Identity and Aristocratic Competition in Republican Rome (2007)).

The second chapter (‘The Traditions of the Fabii’) is the heart of the book, and revolves around the figure of Q. Fabius Maximus Verrucosus Cunctator and the influence that he exerted on the historiographical traditions surrounding the gens Fabia. As the author readily admits here (and frequently elsewhere in the book), not all parallels will convince all readers, but they are instructive and thought-provoking. The highlight of the chapter is the subtle analysis of the historiographical relationship between Verrucosus and his grandfather, Q. Fabius Maximus Rullianus (94–105). R. convincingly argues that even the comparatively recent — from the point of view of the earliest Roman historians — Republican past of the early third century was subject to manipulation and elaboration as a result of assumptions about the traits and behaviour of members of the same gens, demonstrating how stories about the older Fabius are thoroughly pervaded with unhistorical contaminations based on analogy with the career of the younger.

The namesake third and final chapter of the book (‘The Fabii and the Gauls’) examines the second phenomenon identified by the author — the incorporation of extraneous parallel material into Roman historical narratives. The focus here is primarily on accounts of the sack of Rome by the Gauls, with particular attention to the rôle of the Fabii, and on the frequent reminiscences in the Roman tradition of the Persian capture of Athens. Rounding out the chapter is a discussion of Fabia Minor and the Licinio-Sextian laws that (re)established the consulship in 367 b.c., which is less compellingly related to the main thread of the argument. R. concludes by making the key point that repetitions and parallels found within the historiographical tradition are not necessarily to be attributed to the interventions of specific historians like Q. Fabius Pictor in order to magnify the achievements of their gens, but are better understood as reflective of much larger and more complex trends in Roman historical thought.

For the most part, R. does not take knowledge either of Roman culture or of the content of the historical tradition for granted (basic concepts like imagines are defined). While this means that some readers may find certain points belaboured (e.g. fourteen pages (116–30) devoted to a preliminary narrative of the events around the Gallic sack and their historicity), at the same time it renders the book accessible to a broader audience of non-specialists. The Fabii and the Gauls is an important contribution to the field of Roman Republican history, and opens up promising new lines of inquiry into the intersection between the Roman gens and Roman historiography. It will prove fruitful reading for scholars and students of all levels.