And he certainly convinces. His greater nostalgia is evidently reserved for the things he knew: the Thatcher days, the period before journalists moved east and Fleet Street became just another street on a flickering GPS screen. 

This is not a book for those who seek a detailed biography of Cleopatra. The characterisation of men in her middle ranks, such as Lucius Munatius Plancus, "the consul with the mermaid's tail", who organised her parties and financed Mark Antony's armies, among much else, is often the fuller one. But Alexandria is a thoroughly engrossing read. With much subtlety, it proves what a classicist knows in his marrow. In snatching at a distant past, one cannot help but clarify the distance in between. In following the thread to Cleopatra, Stothard has found himself.