“Can you not posture in such a boyish manner, domine? You’ll ruin the effect.”
“What effect?”
“My dear domine, can you turn that wrist more daintily? Can you not stampede about the room like a raging adolescent lad?”
“Is that not what I am?”
“You will play a role, domine. And if you don’t do it well, it will fare badly for us, as well.”
Realizing that their fates as well as mine rested on my performance, I sat still while they padded my hips and chest a little, and while a cosmetician painted my face with delicate strokes, and two others teased and piled my hair.
And presently I found myself looking at my reflection in a mirror of polished bronze and I was transformed. My hair was elaborately coifed and extended with a tall wig. Exotic fabrics caressed my skin, and an outer layer of rich purple left no doubt as to my Imperial status. The fibula I recognized was holding it all together at one shoulder. Lead white gave my face an unearthly pallor and my lips were stained blood-crimson.
I stood taller. Arrogance flecked my lips. I felt ennobled. Entitled, indeed.
I was not just the Divine Poppaea Sabina, Mistress of the World. I was an idealized version of the Empress. And I have to admit that, in these garments, my way of moving, my way of walking, shifted towards the feminine. It was instinctive. I never felt beautiful as a boy, but as a woman, as an Empress …
Perhaps it was just a role, but I was pulling something from deep within myself.
Extracts from S.P. Somtow's Interview with Literary Titan:
Delicatus follows a young boy from ancient Rome who is enslaved by pirates and becomes a key player in Poppeae’s plot to become the Divine Empress. Where did the idea for this novel come from?
I first encountered Sporus at Eton, studying Alexander Pope with the remarkable teacher Michael Meredith, a guru to generations of literary and stage personalities. Pope’s satire on an 18th century local aristocrat notorious for sexual ambiguity led me to be fascinated by this figure, who was well known enough in 18th century England for a poet to allude to him in a satire, yet mostly just a footnote in history books about ancient Rome today if he appears at all.
I would encounter this character from time to time (there’s an illusion, for instance, in the TV series “Succession”) but there are only scraps in the historical record. But what scraps they were! Not just the relatively well-known bit about Sporus getting castrated by the emperor Nero and made his wife … but what happened to Sporus in the year 69 AD when four different emperors held the throne and all had a different relationship with Sporus … from a second wedding to an order to execute him in the arena … and all before Sporus turned twenty. But it took me another fifty years before thinking of it as a novel.
What kind of research did you do for this novel to ensure you captured the essence of the story’s theme?
I’ve always been interested in ancient history and I’ve written both serious and satirical novels in that setting, so I have been doing research for decades. It’s a way of taking revenge on my bullying Latin teacher, as well. I’ve read most of the primary sources (some in the original) but more important, I spent a lot of time daydreaming about what that world, with its radically alien attitudes, was really like … because, despite its weirdness, it is a world populated by real people who speak to us today. One of the things that is hardest to wrap one’s mind around is that absolutely no one thought that there was anything wrong with slavery, and that because slaves could not be distinguished by race, there was a kind of continuum where you rise to a position of great power and still technically be a slave. Big things like that influence the world-view, but also little things, like human urine being collected to use in laundries. This is a very well studied period so there is a lot of consensus about what this world was like. But there are still gaps in the consensus and this is where imagination comes in.
Sporus is a complex and captivating character. Can you share the process of developing his personality and how you balanced his vulnerability and resilience throughout the story?
So many bad things happened to Sporus that he could not have survived without a great deal of native wit and real intelligence. To survive in Nero’s court was tough even for people who had been raised and bred for it. To develop his character, I imagined him talking to me, letting me share his innermost, often contradictory thoughts. It’s the core of innocence that people around Sporus love — the thing they themselves do not possess. But that innocence is constantly besieged by the realities of his world. I think that making this a first-person narrative makes you constantly strive to understand the realities of that world. It’s an imaginative exercise in chanelling if you will.
How did you approach crafting Nero’s character, and what were the challenges in depicting his divine madness and capricious nature?
Of course, we know a lot more about Nero than we do about Sporus. This means not only that it’s easier to create a character people would recognize as Nero, but also harder to bring out qualities that might be concealed behind the very well-known persona. Nero was not raised to be an Emperor, so on some level, he must have been able to understand how ordinary people felt. The evil madman image is to some extent anti-Julio-Claudian propaganda — followed by Christian propaganda. He was, almost to the end, rather popular, but the mob was fickle.