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What made the Romans laugh? Was ancient Rome a carnival, filled with practical jokes and hearty chuckles? Or was it a carefully regulated culture in which the uncontrollable excess of laughter was a force to fear-a world of wit, irony, and knowing smiles? How did Romans make sense of laughter? What role did it play in the world of the law courts, the imperial palace, or the spectacles of the arena?

The ancient Roman empire was the supreme arena, where emperors had no choice but to fight, to thrill, to dazzle. To rule as a Caesar was to stand as an actor upon the great stage of the world. No biography invites us into the lives of the Caesars more vividly or intimately than that by Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus, written from the centre of Rome and power, in AD 121. Placing each Caesar in the context of the generations that had gone before, and connecting personality with policy, Suetonius injected flesh and blood into their stories.

The legend of the foundation of Rome by Romulus in 753BC accords very well with the earliest defensive walls on the Palatine Hill, made of clay and timber and showing evidence of animal sacrifices. To trace the continual efforts to fortify Rome is to trace the rise and fall of the Roman Empire - through the taking of the city by the Gauls in 390/387, the wars with the Italian states, the threat of Hannibal, the establishment of the Republic, attacks by the northern tribes and eventual division and collapse.

For centuries, men have been writing histories of antiquity filled with warlords, emperors and kings. But when it comes to incorporating women aside from Cleopatra and Boudica, writers have been more comfortable describing mythical heroines than real ones. While Penelope and Helen of Troy live on in the imagination, their real-life counterparts have been relegated to the margins. In The Missing Thread, Daisy Dunn inverts this tradition and puts the women of history at the centre of the narrative.

When Gareth Harney was first handed a Roman coin by his father as a child, he became entranced: by its beauty, its hardiness and its power to tell stories and connect us with the ancient past. He realised that coins, more than being simply markers of exchange, are metal canvases upon which societies could immortalise their ideas, cultures, personalities, tragedies and triumphs. His small tarnished coin, then, actually told the epic story of Rome.