Rich as Croesus: A Review of The Last King of Lydia by Tim Leach

The Last King of Lydia is a thoughtful, philosophical novel. Engaging things happen, but it is clear that the events are less important than what those events mean or how they can be interpreted.

Tim Leach has taken the Greek legend of Croesus, the extravagantly rich king of Lydia whose river, the Pactolus, flowed with gold, and retold it in a smart, meaning-laden manner that I enjoyed. This is a book that pursues the big questions, “What is the meaning of life?” “What makes a man truly happy and how can you tell he is happy?”
The philosophical tone is set early on when Solon, the famous wise man of Athens, comes to visit Croesus. Croesus asks Solon “Who is the happiest man you have ever met?” Croesus expects Solon to say he is, but in this Croesus is disappointed. It is the first of many disappointments. If nothing else, this tale proves the proverb that money can’t buy happiness or wisdom. I think, if I’ve interpreted correctly, Leach suggests that life itself, the long stretch of days, might gain one or both of those but then again might not.

Leach builds for us the great cities of the Near East, Sardis and Babylon, as wondrous places. We march with armies, both in the company of their leaders and their slaves, and we live in palaces filled with unthinkable treasures and mundane daily life.

Cyrus, the Persian king who conquered a huge empire, has a major role. We gradually see what sort of a man can vanquish so many, choose so many destructive wars, and also leave behind a written legacy of religious tolerance that still stands out in a narrow-minded world. In some ways Cyrus can be seen as the inventor of the concept of leaving people alone to worship as they please: “permissively plural,” as Cyrus’s theory is jokingly described by a slave in the novel. Cyrus is the king who allowed the Jews to return to Israel from their exile in Babylon and worship that zany notion of a single god, which quite excludes worshipping the great ruler.

Leach is good at both nuance and a cynicism that is cut with generosity and optimism. The world is neither dark nor light, but it is worth exploring. Leach lets us examine a distinctive ancient period of grand gestures and empires, as well as the individual wisdom of characters we come to know and, despite all their failings, admire.

Like any good philosopher, Leach doesn’t give definitive answers to the big questions he asks, but his exploration and hints are the more interesting as a result. I’ll quote a few “goodies” that I found along the way and hope they’ll hold up taken out of context. If you absolutely hate anything remotely like spoilers, you might want to stop reading now, although I don’t think these will qualify as plot revealers. The book primarily philosophizes via action, events, and characters, not pithy comments, but there are gems scattered through in a pleasant way, frequently in dialogue:

“We have gained a year where nothing will change. We will eat, do our work and sleep. … what a gift that is. To be granted a year of this stillness. There will be no surprises to trap us into making any mistake. If I had my way, I would be happy to wait by this river for the rest of my life.”

Or “He thought of how easily he and the others would be replaced. … Barely had you stopped breathing before you became an irrelevance, as though you had never lived at all. What did anyone’s life matter, king or soldier or slave, if they could be replaced in moments and the world go on without them?”

Or, to come to a quite different conclusion—though in a subtle manner:
“‘What is happiness to you then?’ …
Isocrates thought for a moment, then shrugged. ‘Eating a good pear with a sharp knife,’ he said. ‘Making love to Maia, when she’ll have me. Falling asleep with the sun on my face. Shall I go on?’
Croesus shook his head. ‘Sensation. Relief from pain. That’s not enough.’
‘It is enough for me. … Would you like me to go?’
‘Stay here, and watch the sunset with me,’ Croesus said. ‘It might be a good one.’”

So here is to a good sunset to go along with this good book. Life is full of pleasures we shouldn’t turn down just because we worry they aren’t permanent or profound.