Tagged: the other alexander

Self-Publishing: An Author’s Perspective

[I asked Andrew Levkoff, the self-published author of The Other Alexander to do a guest post on self-publishing from his own perspective.  This is it.  For a reviewer’s perspective (my own), click here.  –CS]

Carrie has asked me to offer my thoughts about self-publishing, why I chose that route for my series The Bow of Heaven, and what I think about the self-publishing industry in general.

If you were an author trying to get your novel published the old-fashioned way around 2005, but wound up instead going the self-publishing route, then it’s almost a certainty you had been rejected by every traditional agent and publisher on the planet. How do I know this? From experience. The stigma clinging to the word “self-published,” much of it warranted, was palpable.

Times changed, from the publishing industry’s perspective, almost overnight. So much so that now, I don’t think it matters what Carrie or I or anyone else thinks about the rise of self-publishing. (Back in the 1960’s and 1970’s, network television was up-in-arms over something called cable and pay-per-view. What? Pay for TV when you can get it for free? Yeah, like that will ever catch on.) There is no stopping this tidal wave of words, and ultimately, I think it’s a good thing.

My Dad used to tell me, “Look, son, I know you’re scared to pick up the phone to ask Peggy to the movies, but think of it this way:  if you ask 100 girls for a date and 90% of them tell you no with a capital “Are you nuts?” you’ll still have dates with 10 different girls.” 100 girls? I knew Peggy. What was my father thinking? Plus, he was a charming cross between Ronald Reagan and Dean Martin. I was a cross between Woody Allen and another Woody Allen. You see my point:  there may be tons more worthless words yakking for our attention, but there will also be more worthy, entertaining offerings of eloquence by authors who otherwise would have had the mahogany double doors of traditional publishing slammed in their faces. Continue reading

My Interview with Andrew Levkoff

Andrew Levkoff is the self-published author of one of my favourite historical novels, The Other Alexander.  It’s a greatly underrated novel and this interview definitely sheds some light on why Mr. Levkoff decided to pick such an unusual figure in Roman history to write about.  Today he graciously agreed to do an interview with me, so if you love hearing about Roman history, self publishing and tips for aspiring authors, please read on!

Update:  Mr. Levkoff has just informed me that he won gold in historical fiction category of the eLit Awards.  For anyone who wishes to see the results, here is the link: eLit Awards 2011 (PDF)

1.  Why did you choose to focus The Bow of Heaven on Marcus Licinius Crassus?  Out of all the figures in Roman history, why him?
I think Crassus may have gotten a bad rap. Rome hated nothing more than a loser, and in the eyes of historians like Plutarch and Cassius Dio, he was right up there at the top. Crassus lost the standards of his seven legions to the enemy. It took Octavian (Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus) 27 years to negotiate their return, and the day they were returned to Rome there was a celebration as great as if Caesar had earned a triumph. Continue reading

The Other Alexander by Andrew Levkoff

(Cover picture courtesy of PRLog.)

The Other Alexander is the first book in the epic trilogy The Bow of Heaven.  Alexander, a young Greek philosophy student, is wrenched from a life unlived to submit to the whims of an empire—as a slave of Rome.  In a world would without choice, he must use his cunning and wits to gain the trust of one of the most powerful men in the Republic.

Yet no matter how high he climbs, or how deeply he falls in love, Alexander’s life is still bound by the will of another.  When his master becomes blinded by revenge, the fates of both owner and owned become slaves to a terrible choice.  A choice which will threaten the very life of the empire one has ruled, and the other has been forced to serve.

Perhaps it’s the fact that I prattle on about history constantly, but I can guarantee you that everyone in my family and small circle of friends has heard of Gaius Julius Caesar.  How could they not when he is such a cultural phenomenon, even two thousand years later?  Yet while Julius Caesar is a household name, very few people have heard of Marcus Licinius Crassus.  Even among historians, he is dismissed as the weak third member of the First Triumvirate, nothing more than the man who bankrolled the wars of Pompey the Great and Julius Caesar.  But in The Other Alexander, I believe Andrew Levkoff has done for Crassus what Pauline Gedge did for Kamose Tao or what Robert Graves did for Claudius.

In a style reminiscent of Wilbur Smith’s Egyptian novels, Andrew Levkoff chronicles the life of Crassus through the eyes of his unfortunate slave Alexandros, called Alexander. Alexander is very similar to Smith’s Taita in the way he becomes invaluable to his master and ends up running the household.  Also like Smith’s Taita, he constantly reflects on life with the complex, sometimes arrogant mind of a philosopher.  Alexander’s forceful personality is part of what makes him a good character, but he makes the jump from a good character to a great character because he is full of contradictions, just like real people.

The first few chapters are slowly paced to draw the reader in without completely disorienting them with the foreign world of ancient Rome.  However, the pace picks up steadily throughout the novel and by the end it rivals Conn Iggulden’s famously fast-paced novels.  However, unlike Conn Iggulden, Andrew Levkoff does not change history so blatantly.  As far as I know, The Other Alexander is one of the most historically accurate pieces of historical fiction I’ve ever read.  You can certainly tell there was a great deal of research and care put into this novel.

My only true criticism is that this should have been proofread better.  I caught several missing quotation marks in the dialogue and even the use of ‘pray’ instead of ‘prey’ in this passage on page 256:

“In that case, Gaius, you are nothing.  Pray on some other patrician’s wife.”

Yet these mistakes do not detract from the overall quality of the novel and I would recommend this to anyone who is interested in Roman history, particularly that of the late Republic.

I give this book 4.5/5 stars.

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