Asterix meets McDreamy in this wanly imagined mystery about a doctor in Roman-era Britannia. I spent most this book pondering the strangely modern feel of Ruso's everyday life and work at the hospital doing rounds and clinic. Was this a carefully wrought statement about the commonality of experience through history (à la Wolf Hall) or just a failure of historical imagination? I quickly came to suspect the latter. There are a couple of nice touches here--Ruso's pesky scribe, his debts overseas--but overall the author's attempts to suggest a harried atmosphere fall short. Then there's the distasteful fact that the emotional centerpiece turns out to be Ruso falling in love with his female slave--or (worse, really) her falling in love with him. The book is less thoughtful about the idea of power dynamics in relationships than the average HR sexual harassment Powerpoint.