I really like Mary Beard. No nonsense, witty and doesn't say stuff proves what it doesn't. Ex. Just because a woman was found in the gladiator barracks doesn't mean she was having an affair with a gladiator as some have said, etc, especially as there were many other refugees from the disaster discovered with her, or just because someone's name is scrawled on a wall doesn't mean they owned the place. 

Yes it might be exciting to reach these conclusive conclusions and facts about their lives, but this would not be them reached. Some are reached, but not linked up in the aforementioned way. What Mary has provided is an evidence based, or v educated + reasonable assumptions made and balance of probability backed history (certain or probably certain she always makes clear) book about this ancient town. It is an incredibly compelling and incisive look at what life in Pompeii was like before the eruption. In this book she explores and divulges every aspect of Pompeiian life that we can learn from the ruins, from their homes, to their food, games and worship. Very readable and enjoyable.

I like that she tells of different theories archaeologists have as some are plausible and interesting, but we just don't know their truth for certain (which she says). Still interesting to know though. I also like that she includes the implausible ones and shoots them down.

I am happy that she included a lot of graffiti as I find it wonderful to be able to hear about the Pompeiians in their own words, even if some are a bit crude lol. A very good book and will be reading more from her.

'The impact of these victims (whether fully recast in plaster, or not) comes also from the sense of immediate contact with the ancient world that they offer, the human narratives they allow us to reconstruct, as well as the choices, decisions and hopes of real people with whom we can empathise across the millennia. We do not need to be archaeologists to imagine what it would be like to abandon our homes with only what we could carry. We can feel for the doctor who chose to take the tools of his trade with him, and almost share his regret at what he would have left behind. We can understand the vain optimism of those who slipped the front-door keys in their pockets before taking to the road. Even that nasty little amber figurine takes on special significance, when we know that it was someone's precious favourite, snatched up as they left home for the last time.'