The Confessions of Young Nero by Margaret George (English) Paperback Book

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The New York Times bestselling and legendary author of Helen of Troy and Elizabeth I now turns her gaze on Emperor Nero, one of the most notorious and misunderstood figures in history.Built on the backs of those who fell before it, Julius Caesar's imperial dynasty is only as strong as the next person who seeks to control it. In the Roman Empire no one is safe from the sting of betrayal: man, woman—or child.As a boy, Nero's royal heritage becomes a threat to his very life, first when the mad emperor Caligula tries to drown him, then when his great aunt attempts to secure her own son's inheritance. Faced with shocking acts of treachery, young Nero is dealt a harsh lesson: it is better to be cruel than dead.While Nero idealizes the artistic and athletic principles of Greece, his very survival rests on his ability to navigate the sea of vipers that is Rome. The most lethal of all is his own mother, a cold-blooded woman whose singular goal is to control the empire. With cunning and poison, the obstacles fall one by one. But as Agrippina's machinations earn her son a title he is both tempted and terrified to assume, Nero's determination to escape her thrall will shape him into the man he was fated to become—an Emperor who became legendary.With impeccable research and captivating prose, The Confessions of Young Nero is the story of a boy's ruthless ascension to the throne. Detailing his journey from innocent youth to infamous ruler, it is an epic tale of the lengths to which man will go in the ultimate quest for power and survival.

FORMATPaperback LANGUAGEEnglish CONDITIONBrand New Author Biography

Margaret George is the New York Times bestselling author of six novels of biographical historical fiction, including Elizabeth I, Helen of Troy, Mary, Called Magdalene, The Memoirs of Cleopatra, The Autobiography of Henry VIII, and Mary Queen of Scotland and the Isles. She also has written a children's book, Lucille Lost.

Review

PRAISE FOR THE CONFESSIONS OF YOUNG NERO"George's reconstruction of the man, in terms both of his public life and private character, is more than a revisiting of fact: It's a subtle exploration of identity and the insidious effects of power...'Confessions' is all about identity: How is it made, lost, reinvented?...Margaret George occupies that blurry space between history and fiction. And between Tacitus and Margaret George, I rather think it's George's account that is not only most sympathetic but most truthful."—Diana Gabaldon, Washington Post"Margaret George has performed about the most audacious act imaginable for a historical novelist—an epic work of fiction not merely sympathetic to Nero, but told largely in his own voice. I applaud. And so, I imagine, does that connoisseur of the arts Nero, watching from Elysium."—Steven Saylor, author of Roma: The Novel of Ancient Rome"[George] brilliantly recreates past eras and bygone civilizations."—Sharon Kay Penman, author of A King's Ransom"A wonderful novel, from the riveting first scene to the breathtaking finale." —Jennifer Chiaverini, New York Times bestselling author of Fates and Traitors and Mrs. Lincoln's Dressmaker "Wow! Margaret George—the reigning queen of historical fiction—is back with this epic saga that vividly re-imagines the life of young Nero in all its operatic, dramatic glory."—Stephanie Dray, New York Times bestselling author of Lily of the Nile"Margaret George has an incredible talent in that she can stand in the shoes of her protagonist and speak in his or her voice."—Barbara Taylor Bradford, author of The Cavendon Luck and A Woman Of Substance

Review Quote

PRAISE FOR THE CONFESSIONS OF YOUNG NERO "George's reconstruction of the man, in terms both of his public life and private character, is more than a revisiting of fact: It's a subtle exploration of identity and the insidious effects of power...'Confessions' is all about identity: How is it made, lost, reinvented'...Margaret George occupies that blurry space between history and fiction. And between Tacitus and Margaret George, I rather think it's George's account that is not only most sympathetic but most truthful."--Diana Gabaldon, Washington Post "Margaret George has performed about the most audacious act imaginable for a historical novelist--an epic work of fiction not merely sympathetic to Nero, but told largely in his own voice. I applaud. And so, I imagine, does that connoisseur of the arts Nero, watching from Elysium."--Steven Saylor, author of Roma: The Novel of Ancient Rome "[George] brilliantly recreates past eras and bygone civilizations."--Sharon Kay Penman, author of A King's Ransom "A wonderful novel, from the riveting first scene to the breathtaking finale." --Jennifer Chiaverini, New York Times bestselling author of Fates and Traitors and Mrs. Lincoln's Dressmaker "Wow! Margaret George--the reigning queen of historical fiction--is back with this epic saga that vividly re-imagines the life of young Nero in all its operatic, dramatic glory."--Stephanie Dray, New York Times bestselling author of Lily of the Nile "Margaret George has an incredible talent in that she can stand in the shoes of her protagonist and speak in his or her voice."--Barbara Taylor Bradford, author of The Cavendon Luck and A Woman Of Substance

Excerpt from Book

I Locusta This is not the first time I have been imprisoned. So I am hopeful that this is a sham and that the new emperor, Galba, will soon need my unique services and quietly send for me and once again I shall be treading the palace halls. I feel at home there, and why shouldn''t I? I have provided my timely services for those in power for many years. By trade I am a poisoner. There, why not say it? And not any old poisoner, but the acknowledged expert and leader in my profession. So many others want to be another Locusta, another me. So I founded an academy to pass on my knowledge and train the next generation, for Rome will always be in need of poisoners. I should lament that, should say what a pity that Rome must descend to that, but that would be hypocritical of me. Besides, I am not convinced that poison is not the best way to die. Think of all the other ways a person may die at the hands of Rome: being torn by beasts in the arena, being strangled in the Tullianum prison, and, most insipid of all, being ordered to open your veins and bleed yourself to death, like a sacrificial animal. Bah. Give me a good poison anytime. Did not Cleopatra embrace the asp and its poison, leaving her beautiful and stretched out upon her couch? I first met the late emperor Nero when he was still a child, still Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus, the name he was born with. I saw him at the low point in his life, when he was an abandoned child at the mercy of his uncle Caligula. (Now, that was someone who gave me a lively string of business!) His father was dead, his mother, Agrippina, had been banished when he was not even three years old, and his uncle liked to toy with him. I remember he was a likable child-well, he remained likable all his life; it was a gift-but timorous. Many things frightened him, especially loud noises and being sent for unexpectedly. Caligula had a habit of that-sending for people in the middle of the night. He once forced me to watch a nocturnal theatrical performance in the palace, featuring himself as Jupiter. Sometimes it was harmless, like the playacting; other times it ended with the death of the helpless person he had sent for. So, Nero-let us call him that to avoid confusion, just as I call Caligula Caligula rather than Gaius Caesar Germanicus-was precocious in recognizing the danger of the serpent in his uncle. Ah, such memories! Here in my cell I find myself returning to them, helping the hours to pass, until that moment when Galba sends for me with a task. I know he will! II Nero The moon was round and full. It shone on the flat surface of the lake, which was also round, making it appear that the moon itself had expanded and enlarged itself there. It rose golden from the encircling hills but soon was a bright white ball high above. It illuminated the wide deck of the ship. I was to sit beside my uncle and listen to him intoning praise to the goddess Diana, whose sanctuary was on the shore of the lake and to whom the lake itself was sacred. I remember the flame of the torches that threw a flickering red light on the faces around me, in contrast to the clear bluish-white moonlight bathing the wider scene. My uncle''s face looked not like a human''s but like a demon''s, with a burning hue. These are all impressions, memories that swirl without being attached to anything. The reflection on the water-the torches-the thin, reedy voice of my uncle-the nervous laughter around me-the chill in the air- I was only three years old, so it is no wonder my memories are disconnected. Then his face shoved up into mine, his silky voice saying, "What shall I do with the bitch''s whelp?" More nervous laughter. His rough hands grabbed my shoulders and hauled me up, my legs dangling helplessly. "I shall sacrifice him to the goddess!" He strode over to the rail and held me over the rippling water. I can still see the undulation of the reflected moonlight, waiting for me. "She wants a human sacrifice, and what more worthy than this kin of mine, descendant of the divine Augustus? Only the best for Diana, and perhaps a propitiation for the lapse of Augustus, who preferred to worship her brother Apollo. There you go!" And I was flung out over the water, landing with a splash, cold, cold, and I sank, unable to swim or even cry out. Then strong hands grasped me, pulled me mercifully out of the water, and I could breathe. I was hauled onto the deck, where my uncle stood, hands on hips, laughing. "Better luck next time, eh, Chaerea? You are too softhearted, to rescue such flotsam. Anything born of my sister can come to no good." III As I sat shivering next to Chaerea I could see down the whole length of the huge boat, see the light dancing on the mosaic-covered deck, the moonlight shining on the white marble cabin. The madman who had thrown me in the water now paced up and down, laughing. Not until I was older did I hear such a laugh again, and it was from a captive hyena, whining and mewling in its cage. Let me off, let me off, let me off this boat, I prayed, to what god I knew not, just whatever god was listening. "Come, lad," said Chaerea, putting his huge arm around my shoulders. "You should walk, warm up." He pulled me up and marched me up and down the deck, until feeling returned to my numb feet. We passed the rowers, whose heads turned as if on stalks to see us as we passed. One or two smiled. The others looked like the statues that were placed here and there on the deck. "The shore is close," said Chaerea, holding me up and pointing to it. "Soon we will be back on it." How I got back and when I got back I do not know. I have told you, my memories are wispy from this early age and do not join together to make a whole; rather, they are like pieces of cloud drifting through the sky of my mind, each portion separate and contained. But the horrible memory of the boat ride is burned into my mind. My little bed in my aunt

Details ISBN0451473396 Author Margaret George Short Title CONFESSIONS OF YOUNG NERO Pages 544 Language English ISBN-10 0451473396 ISBN-13 9780451473394 Format Paperback DEWEY 813.54 Year 2018 Publication Date 2018-03-20 Country of Publication United States AU Release Date 2018-03-20 NZ Release Date 2018-03-20 US Release Date 2018-03-20 UK Release Date 2018-03-20 Publisher Penguin Putnam Inc Imprint Berkley Publishing Corporation,U.S. Audience General We've got this

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