Book Review: THE IONIA SANCTION by Gary Corby

I don’t know if Gary Corby’s series of mysteries set in ancient Greece has an official name (“The Athenian Mysteries”? That  sounds like an old religious cult), but whatever you want to call them, THE IONIA SANCTION is the second, and latest, member of the set. This series is not a trilogy, quadrilogy, or whatever, where the same story continues over a set number of books and concludes with the last. Rather, this is a mystery series in which each novel stands alone, though making reference to events in previous novels. The continuity of the series is mainly by means of recurring characters and settings.

In this case, the setting is Athens, the year is 460 BC, and our hero, Nicolaos, the only investigating agent in Athens, is once again called upon by his employer, Pericles, to find out who murdered the Athenian proxenos [a sort of consulate, only the proxenos was not a citizen of the city on whose behalf he acted, but was favorably disposed to that city and able to represent the welfare of that city to his fellow citizens] for Ephesus, what was in his final message, and why it was stolen. In the course of this adventure, Nico travels to Ephesus and Magnesia, meets eunuchs, Persians, the exiled Themistocles [hero of the Persian Wars and considered a traitor by his countrymen for later allying with the Persians] and his children, and runs into his old flame, Diotima.

As with THE PERICLES COMMISSION, Gary manages to take ancient Greek history (as we know it from the available sources), and use it as the setting for his fiction. There is enough intrigue and skullduggery in the classical world to allow him plenty of room to cast his plots and suppose quite plausible means and motives for crime. I have studied ancient Greek and Roman history, and while I don’t claim to be an expert, I didn’t find myself once saying “that would never happen!” This is a work of fiction, and half the characters are Corby’s own, but he maintains a good balance between actual history, and historical verisimilitude. Indeed, my teacher for A Level Ancient Greek History would love these books!

I wouldn’t call this book (or its predecessor) child-friendly–it’s Ancient Greece, after all. The voice is Nico’s first person narrative. There are depictions of sex (some a little on the deviant side), but the descriptions of things sexual mostly make use of euphemism and inference, much like the Greek plays would (e.g. Lysistrata). Still, I would recommend it to a more mature audience (interpret as you will). But that aside, the plot is layered, the mystery is not straight-forward, the characters are memorable and engaging, and it’s highly entertaining.

To give you a flavor of the book’s voice without giving away plot, here’s an excerpt from a scene where Nicolaos visits the harbormaster at Piraeus as part of his investigation. He joins him in his lunch:

We reached for our steaming bowls. The eel was hot enough to burn my fingers as I picked up a chunk covered in garos sauce and small flecks of extra spices. I put it to my lips, wondering what a rough-looking man like Orbanos might have produced.

It was brilliant. I had my doubts about Orbanos as a harbormaster, but as a cook he was first-class. I began to shovel in the food. Orbanos ate delicately, picking a small piece with his fingers, and taking his time over each mouthful.

As I chewed I said, “This is delicious, Orbanos. How did you learn to cook like this?”

“I was a sailor in my younger days, saw a lot of the world. Any port we laid over at, I’d try the local food, anything different. Got to be a hobby with me. I talked to the cooks and learned their recipes. I passed on what I learned in one place to guys in another, and I always tried everything for myself.”

“Have you thought about becoming a cook yourself?”

He snorted. “I’d rather swallow anchovies than waste my time cooking for men who can’t tell goat meat from a decent tuna. The only place you can get work as a cook is in the taverns. By the time the customers order food, they’re so drunk they’ll eat whatever the pigs turned down. I’ve even seen unscrupulous innkeepers serve rat and call it a traditional local dish, and the idiots ate it.”

“Maybe you should start your own place, purely for eating?”

He thought about it for a moment, but said, “Nah, it’d never catch on. If a man wants to eat out, he visits a friend.”

“Write a book then. Tell other people how to cook this delicious food.”

“A book about cooking? Who in their right mind would want something like that?” Orbanos belched. “So what do you want with me?”

“I’m searching for a man. He left on a boat that was here the other day–“

“No there wasn’t.”
I blinked in surprise. “There wasn’t?”

“Look, if you’re going to turn up here asking questions, at least get the terms right. We don’t allow boats to dock here, only ships.”

“What’s the difference?”

“You don’t know?”

“Not about boats… ships. I’ve never been on a boat or a ship in my life.”

Orbanos dropped his empty bowl on the ground in shock, where it clattered. “Poseidon’s nuts! You, an Athenian, never rowed for the navy?”

“No, but I was an ephebe in the army. Does that count?”

He spat in the dirt. “No, it don’t. Can’t stomach those useless bloody army fools. Show me your hands.”

I held out my hands.

“Not that way, you dolt. Turn ’em over.”

Orbanos inspected my palms and finger and grimaced. “Not a proper callus on ’em. In my day lad we fought the Persians on ships–our ships–in the navy. You know what I mean?”

“I don’t care about–” I saw the expression on his face. “Er… yes, of course.”

As you can see, Gary uses a modern vernacular to express ancient ideas, much like a good modern translator will render Classical Greek in such a way that it resonates with the contemporary ear. And he does it very well, in my opinion anyway.

This is a wonderful series, and I highly recommend it–especially if you like mysteries, and particularly if you have a penchant for the classical world.