ThrillerThis is quite simply a wonderful novel, the type of book you physically hold on to when finished, still absorbed by the tale and its telling. And what a story is Pompeii.
The author, Robert Harris, has developed a niche in historical dramas, beginning with Fatherland (post second World War Berlin and a murder investigation), then Enigma (again a second World War background, this dealing with U-boat codes), followed by Archangel (Russia and the search for Stalin's illegitimate offspring).
In each work Harris's attention to detail in time and place is so appropriate the reader immediately feels involved in the plot. Nowhere before was this more successful than Fatherland, where you could almost feel the Berlin drizzle drip down the back of your neck.
Now, with Pompeii, Harris has excelled yet again. His characters leap off the pages, vivid and as alive as the man or woman beside you in the bus queue. But it is his descriptions of the Roman Empire, its laws and superstitions and day-to-day habits that ring so true. I can just imagine Classical scholars poring over the text, desperate to find some factual inaccuracy. And I'd be surprised if they succeeded.
At the end of the street, a heavy first-floor balcony jutted over the pavement, reducing the road to scarcely more than a passageway. He shouldered his way past a group of loitering men, their faces flushed by heat and wine, through the nearest open door, and into a dingy vestibule. There was a sharp, almost feral stink of sweat and semen. Lupanars they called these places, after the howl of the lupa, the she-wolf, in heat. And lupa was the street-word for a harlot - a meretrix. The business sickened him. From upstairs came the sound of a flute, a thump on floorboards, male laughter. On either side, from curtained cubicles, came the noises of the night - grunts, whispers, a child's whimper.
That could just as easily be 2003 and a Bangkok massage parlour, or dingy downtown Dublin brothel. In fact it's Pompeii 2000 years ago, just before the eruption of Mount Vesuvius and subsequent destruction of the ancient city.
The story evolves over four days leading up to the natural catastrophe. Marcus Attilius, an engineer, takes charge of the Aqua Augusta, the massive aqueduct carrying fresh water to a quarter of a million people in nine towns around the Bay of Naples. Springs are failing for the first time in generations, his predecessor has disappeared and now there is a crisis somewhere along the aqueduct's 60-mile line.
The area is in the grip of a heat wave and Attilius, a decent, practical and incorruptible man, sets out to repair the dwindling watercourse before reservoirs run dry. But as he closes in on Vesuvius, the smouldering volcano north of Pompeii, he soon realises he's dealing with forces greater than even he can control.
Harris has produced a book for everyone, with historical drama, thrills, a forbidden and dangerous love tangle and an explosive ending (forgive the pun).
It is beautifully written, meticulously researched and comes across as solidly true to the era. But don't take my word, read it and believe.
Paul Carson is a medical doctor and novelist. His latest thriller, Final Duty, is available in paperback
Pompeii By Robert Harris Hutchinson, 352pp. £12.99