I, Claudius was the third book by Robert Graves and his first with commercial success. It’s an autobiography from the lost perspective of “Tiberius Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus.” While Claudius the actual member of Roman royalty did write an actual 8-part autobiography, this is not that. Instead, it’s a humorous recollection of the trials and misfortunes of Rome in years of political turmoil as recorded by other historical sources (Gaius, Plutarch and Suetonius). Graves liberally connects the dots of those sources, providing fleshed out conversations between the emperors and all those around them.
Claudius himself was a physically challenged child of the sister of Augustus. While his family members are, one by one, eliminated by paranoid emperors, his stutter and bookishness prevent him from ever being seen as a threat. For example, his being the “butt” of jokes saves his life from Caligula who, meanwhile, mercilessly kills each of his sisters.
While I don’t enjoy the standard churn and burn of palace intrigue on TV, it’s consistently entertaining in I, Claudius. Macabre blends with absurdity. Each emperor — first Augustus then Tiberius then Caligula — feels less secure in their autocracy and resorts to worse measures to preserve it. And their means of preservation, while undoubtably terrifying for the actual Roman Senate, become comedic thanks to Graves’ framing and timing. For example, an assassin strangles Tiberius’ nephew because the nephew’s succession is a threat. The assassin then stuffs the deceased nephew’s throat with a peach-seed. A peach-tree near the nephew’s body is charged with murder in court, uprooted, and burned in retribution. In another example, an accuser of forgery against Claudius is caught lying; Caligula has the accusers’ hands cut off and tied around his neck as a simple “warning.”
The novel I kept thinking of while reading I, Claudius was Catch-22. Both feature powerful civilizations in the midst of war and use black comedy to skewer their respective bureaucracies.
I, Claudius has affected me in two positive ways. The first is that it’s given me some context and interest in the Roman Empire that I lacked before. I was surprised to read Claudius’ Wikipedia page (pre-emperorship) and find little information that had failed to make it into Graves’ novel. I’m more likely to read about the time period preceding or following that covered in I, Claudius. The second way it affected me is in cementing my interest in historical fiction. I read The Shogun before this, but struggled to relate or empathize with its protagonist’s acclimation to a feudal Japan. Though Graves’ subject is even more distant in the past, his novel is more palatable for its quicker pacing and relentless black comedy.