Luigi A. Kohli’s Aletheia series, comprising Vol. 1: In the Shadows and Vol. 2: The Binds of Fate, offers a vivid reimagining of the ancient world that deserves serious attention from teachers and students of Classics alike. Historical novels often occupy an uneasy space between imagination and evidence, yet when they succeed, they can provide something that neither the bare text of an ancient historian nor the careful detail of a modern commentary can quite achieve: an evocation of lived experience. Kohli’s work belongs to this tradition of imaginative reception, bringing the textures of antiquity into focus in ways that are at once compelling, thoughtful, and remarkably suited to the classroom.

The very title of the series, Aletheia, a Greek term that connotes truth, or more literally ‘unconcealment’, signals the author’s project. His aim is not to reconstruct history in the narrow sense but to uncover deeper realities about life in the ancient world, realities that resonate far beyond the classroom. Both volumes seek to dramatise perennial questions of identity, power, and destiny through the eyes of characters who move within recognisably classical settings. Kohli does not present us with abstractions but with fully realised individuals: citizens, outsiders, philosophers, soldiers, and slaves, each with their own perspectives and dilemmas. For students encountering antiquity, these characters provide an immediate point of connection; for teachers, they represent valuable starting points for discussion.

The first novel, In the Shadows, introduces readers to a world where much of life takes place in half-light, both literal and metaphorical. The protagonist, navigating the crowded streets and forums of Rome, becomes enmeshed in the ambiguities of duty, loyalty, and ambition. Kohli is particularly effective in evoking the details of everyday life, from meals and clothing to religious observances and the noise of the urban environment. These details matter because they transform what can seem abstract or remote into a living landscape. For students who might struggle to picture Rome beyond the ruins, the novel provides an imaginative reconstruction that is both engaging and accessible. What stands out especially is the novel’s treatment of social hierarchy. Patronage, slavery, and citizenship appear not as textbook terms but as realities embodied in human relationships. Readers see how privilege and vulnerability are distributed, how inequality is negotiated, and how individuals seek agency within constraining systems. For teaching purposes, this is invaluable: the novel brings to life themes that can otherwise remain dry, making them available for reflection and debate.

If In the Shadows is about what lies hidden, The Binds of Fate shifts focus to forces that feel unavoidable. Here the characters struggle with questions of destiny, choice, and the consequences of the past. The stage expands beyond Rome to encompass the wider Mediterranean, and in doing so Kohli offers a vision of antiquity as a space of cultural interaction rather than a monolithic empire. The protagonist embodies hybridity, torn between Greek philosophical ideals and the practical demands of Roman politics. This tension illuminates the porousness of cultural borders in the ancient world, a theme with obvious resonance for today’s students, who can recognise in it their own questions of identity and belonging.

Stylistically, the second volume is more ambitious than the first. Kohli experiments with shifting perspectives, allowing events to be seen through multiple voices. For more advanced readers, this strategy opens up fruitful questions about how narrative voice shapes our understanding of history. In a classroom setting, such passages could be compared to the different approaches of ancient historians, encouraging students to reflect on the relationship between story and truth. The emphasis on cross-cultural negotiation is another strength. The novel shows how Greek and Roman traditions intermingled, and how individuals forged identities that were never simply one thing or another. For teachers wishing to highlight the complexity of the ancient Mediterranean, this novel provides a ready-made text to provoke reflection.

Taken together, the two volumes of Aletheia present complementary visions. The first is rooted in the fabric of everyday Roman life, while the second gestures towards broader philosophical and cultural horizons. Both are united by a concern with how individuals navigate structures that are larger than themselves, whether those structures are social hierarchies or the bonds of fate. For students, the novels demonstrate that antiquity was not inhabited by abstractions but by people with desires, fears, and choices. For teachers, they offer an accessible means of making that humanity palpable.

The strengths of Kohli’s work are many. His evocation of atmosphere is rich without being overwhelming, his characters are drawn with empathy, and his willingness to embrace the ambiguities of antiquity makes the novels feel alive rather than schematic. The books also model, in an unobtrusive way, how literature itself can become a form of inquiry into history. Students who read them are not only entertained but also invited to consider how imagination and evidence intertwine. One of the most valuable aspects of both volumes is their potential to stimulate further exploration: a scene of political manoeuvring can lead to a discussion of Cicero’s letters, while a reference to philosophical ideals can open the door to Plato or Epictetus. In this way, the novels serve as bridges, leading students from the fictional to the historical without losing sight of the distinctiveness of each.

Of course, no historical novel can please every reader, and it is only fair to note two areas where Aletheia might be refined in future volumes. The first is that at times the pace of the narrative accelerates so quickly that historical depth risks being lost. While this keeps the story moving, there are moments where a little more dwelling on context might have helped readers unfamiliar with the period. The second is that the experimental shifts in perspective in the second volume, though rewarding for advanced readers, may present a challenge to younger students. Teachers will therefore want to select excerpts carefully, matching passages to the level of their class. Yet even these points can be turned into opportunities: a briskly moving narrative can be paused for contextual research, and a complex narrative voice can become a teaching moment about how we construct and interpret stories.

On balance, however, the achievement of Kohli’s Aletheia novels is considerable. They succeed in animating the ancient world for a modern audience, not through pedantic reconstruction but through living characters and moral dilemmas that feel both rooted in antiquity and recognisably human. They are not substitutes for reading Cicero, Tacitus, or Plutarch, nor do they claim to be. But they can prepare the ground for such encounters by giving students a sense of why these ancient texts mattered to the people who wrote and read them. In this sense, the novels are not competitors to scholarship but allies to it, helping to cultivate the curiosity and empathy upon which serious study depends.

For teachers looking to enrich their curriculum with material that both engages and provokes, Aletheia Vol. 1: In the Shadows and Vol. 2: The Binds of Fate deserve a place on the shelf. They can be read individually, each with its own focus and strengths, or together, as a developing vision of the ancient world in all its complexity. Above all, they remind us that the Classics are not inert relics but living traditions, capable of inspiring new stories and new understandings. Kohli has given us novels that reveal antiquity’s enduring power, and in doing so, he has offered teachers and students alike a fresh means of approaching the ancient world with imagination, intelligence, and delight.