Book Review: Give Me Back My Legions! by Harry Turtledove

A retelling of the Varian disaster in the Teutoburg Forest

Over the last few months the channel MoAn Inc. on YouTube has absolutely rolled me in terms of reviewable content, so I have needed to re-evaluate a few of the things I had planned to write about. If you’ve felt that the last few months have contained reviews of books far outside the purview of my usual historical fiction pattern, this is the cause. No shade to her; if anything I’m jealous of her output.¹ Half of the problem is that what she has said has frankly been so in-line with my own assessments that it would verge on plagiarism to the casual observer. Expect things to go back to “normal” in the very near future.

Give Me Back My Legions is a title that will inform even the most lapsed of classics students of the story’s period and setting. Given that the Roman military machine was so far ahead of most other civilizations at the time, it tends to be easier to memorize all of their great losses than any of their decisive victories, and the battle of the Teutoburg Forest was the first such disaster under the Empire. This novel adds little fictionalization on top of the official historical record: Arminius, the Cherusci son of Segimerus, was indeed a Roman citizen of the equestrian order who ambushed Quinctilius Varus and three Roman legions. According to Cassius Dio, yes, Varus was informed of the conspiracy but did not believe any of the gossip, as portrayed. This being because of Varus’ filial treatment of Arminius is a thematic device that works incredibly well for the story he wants to tell. In the same way that Rome wishes to “adopt” new land into its empire despite the natives’ resistance, Varus treats Arminius in the same way he would his own son² even though the Germans use that comparison as an insult in their own language. Just as Arminius stifles any immediate criticism of Varus for treating him this way, so too do the Germans lie in wait to strike against the Roman legions. The overbearing parent/petulant son was a common trope in colonial propaganda and literature throughout the 17th and 18th centuries. Having it here connects the classical past to a more recent (and therefore more palpable) period of history. 

There are two points in the novel where the author departs from this theme in a jarring and unsatisfactory way. The first is a scene where Roman soldiers pay a German woman for sexual favors that preserve her virginity.³ This helps to demonstrate different cultural attitudes towards chastity between the Germans and the Romans to a certain extent, with both groups believing they got the better of the other after it’s over. I’m no prude, but from a thematic stance it seemed unnecessary. The second scene is an anti-tax screed which is meant to legitimize the Germans’ objections to Roman occupation, but ends up detracting from the postcolonial elements of the rest of the novel. Furthermore, it’s a little ridiculous to use an example of something that the overwhelming majority of the world does (even if they do grumble about it) as a later justification for war. The Germans had plenty to be angry about, but this makes it seem like their only objection to the Roman Empire was the concept of taxation. Thankfully, the way that the Germans intimidate the Roman tax collector is entertaining enough that it doesn’t diminish from the work as a whole.

This novel isn’t the first of Harry Turtledove’s that I have tried to read for the blog; I only got about a quarter of the way through Over the Wine Dark Sea last winter, but felt it droned on a bit too much about matters of trade. In the case of Give Me Back My Legions, though, it’s clear that Turtledove’s strength is his depictions of war and much of the subterfuge around it. There is a point in this novel where a Roman sentry chooses a watchword that the Germans have difficulty pronouncing for the encampment. Both watchwords and the concept of shibboleths existed in the ancient world, but after a bit of research I’m still quite certain that their use in that way would not have been intentional until much later in history. After all, the Roman army would have been made up of a number of men who did not speak Latin as their first language. This anachronism does not detract from the overall enjoyment of the novel. If anything, Turtledove’s ability to seamlessly integrate modern concepts into novels about the ancient world speaks to his strengths as a writer. Most of his other books lean into this talent, as he is mostly known for his alternative history novels. I rate this book 1 star and cannot wait to read more of his work in this genre when the mood again strikes me.

1. Recently she’s been releasing little quizzes through YouTube’s community tabs, and it’s so exhilarating to make some offhanded comment in my head about the split between two sources on one myth and have her mention it in the expanded answer section. Seriously, go check her channel out.

2. The Netflix series Barbarians, which may or may not take inspiration from this novel, apparently rewrites history to say that Varus adopted Arminius. No word on how Segimerus feels about that.

3. Orally. I don’t know how to phrase this in any more clinical of a fashion so as to avoid giggles from the peanut gallery.