Book Review: The Woman Who Would Be King

It’s been far too long since I did a book review, despite so many millions of words I’ve read in the past few months. Mostly I’ve been perusing the science-fiction and mystery tomes–what else is new?–but the first of what will probably be many literary deconstructions–shut up–will be renown Egyptologist Dr. Kara Cooney’s The Woman Who Would Be King, a biography on what’s really the only female pharaoh in history, Hatshepsut.

First disclaimer: I was given an advanced copy, though not the final proof, with the understanding that I would give an honest review; insulted they even have to ask, but okay.

Second disclaimer (Ha, weren’t expecting that one, were ya?): I know the author, and have listened to her lectures about half a dozen times, plus I have her entire Discovery Channel series on my tablet. Those who regularly read this blog–if such animal exists–might remember I refer to her as a giggly teenager with a giant brain, at least in person, and to a smaller extent in her lectures. I would imagine most stolid archaeologists and historians tend to take her less seriously because of her playful demeanor and frequent asides–often to mention how much she loved the latest sci-fi movie–but for those very same reasons she’s a hit with us who don’t make the study of ancient Egypt our lifelong passion. In fact, I might even go as far as to consider her Egyptology’s version of Carl Sagan or Stephen Hawking–or nowadays Neil DeGrasse Tyson–though obviously not to the same acclaim or fame, in bringing what’s generally considered a stolid subject, at least when historically accurate, to the masses.

The reason I wrote all that is so you’ll understand when I say she writes the same way she speaks.

One more thing. A few months ago I was passing time in the UCLA library before an event and happened to come across Social Life in Ancient Egypt, by the one and only Flinders Petrie. For a book published in 1924, it was in amazingly good shape, but more to the point, it wasn’t another dry, facts-only tome on buildings or leaders. Dr. Cooney takes this to another level with an almost conversational style, even moving into supposition a few times, though she makes sure to point out when that happens.

Okey-dokes, on to the review. If there’s a running theme in this biography, it’s how previous Egyptologists had given Hatshepsut a hard time, jumping to conclusions about her character. Though there are a lot of women in this discipline–and a lot more coming, if the UCLA grad students are any indication–it wasn’t that long ago that you’d only find older white guys writing the books and giving the speeches. So as she mentions the belittling from previous generations of critics who’d thought of Hatshepsut as a power-hungry witch, taking her nephew’s crown for herself, Dr. Cooney defends her girl. On the other hand, she also states that some later historians overcorrected, turning the relatively young leader into a feminist icon, doing everything selflessly in order for her nephew to be a successful ruler, once he came of age. As with most human endeavors, the truth is no doubt somewhere in between.

The book is divided into a relatively small amount of chapters, telling the story of this enigmatic historical figure chronologically, starting with what life would have been like for her growing up as the daughter of an Egyptian leader. Like Petrie’s work, there’s a lot of stuff about everyday life that I’m sure most people would never think of asking. She was groomed to marry the next pharaoh, who was actually her brother, only to find him too sickly as a teenager to do much ruling, finally dying before they could produce a male heir. He did, however, have a son with another of his wives/concubines, thus continuing the familial line barely started by the previous ruler. This put her position of power, and the purity of her father’s lineage, in danger of going away, but with the respect she’d earned–and apparently plenty of money–she managed to become the baby king’s regent. Over time she amassed more power, basically becoming co-pharaoh before pretty much taking over the whole thing, to the point where she had to switch her identity to male, at least in the official records in the walls of the temples and obelisks.

Dr. Cooney’s specialty is the reuse of coffins, but if there’s another subject on which she frequently lectures, it’s the history–or is that herstory–of powerful women. To me the most telling line was “Hatshepsut has the misfortune to be antiquity’s female leader who did everything right.” She mentions how few of them there were, referencing one of my favorites, Boadicea, as well as Empress Lu–never heard–and of course Cleopatra. She does mention, however, that Hatshepsut was the only female ruler to rise to power without the use of assassination or coup, all the more impressive doing it during a time of peace and prosperity. Interestingly she adds, “Hatshepsut’s story can help us appreciate why authoritative women are still often considered to be dangerous beings who need to be controlled, monitored, contained, and watched.”

Dr. Cooney describes Hatshepsut as practical and elegant, not devious and cunning, adding a term that I like very much: “She was intelligently ambitious. . . she really had been bred for palace politics.”

A couple of examples of her famous irreverent nature: “Egyptians were not troubled by the idea of burying a king in an incomplete tomb–that was the last guy’s problem.” Even the notes that take up the last quarter or so of the text contain her witty, as when she starts off with, “What Egyptologists put in print is often different from what they might say at the bar among friends.” Reminds me of that interview Dr. Cooney gave where she mentioned how Egyptologists like to get together and drink. . .

One more note on the text: about two-thirds of the way through, if you count the notes at the end, there’s a long description on the removal of the organs from the dead king/queen’s body. You have been warned; I wish I could UNread it.

Okay, considering what I told you about Dr. Cooney to begin this, it’s her dedications that show you exactly what I mean about her bubbly personality; in fact, it might have been my favorite part. First she notes that she began writing this soon after the birth of her son, and finished at his fourth birthday. “No woman should write a book during those years.  No one.” Then she talks about her women in power class at UCLA, and how the students would soon be reading this book, “whether they like it or not.” Then, to completely cement her irreverent attitude, she tells that she wrote most of this book at a Mexican food joint, and lists a few of the workers who no doubt kept her table full of not just computer and books, especially on Taco Tuesday.

Guess this proves she really is from Texas. . .

;o)

Who Said Weekends were for Resting?

Apparently this blog I did on Tuesday did not show up. No wonder there’s been no views. . . at least I hope that’s the reason. . .

SATURDAY
Those of you on public transportation, do you use the MTA’s Nextrip website or app? It supposedly uses GPS to tell you when the next bus is coming. Well, I checked it and saw the bus I needed was coming in 5 minutes, leaving me with plenty of time to sashay down the stairs and onto the street to wait for it. . . not that I sashay, of course. So I wish they could explain to me why it came 17 minutes later. . .
Usually I enjoy air conditioning hitting the back of my neck, but apparently that was back when I still had some hair there, as now it’s just freezing. Can’t wait for it to grow back.
Anyhooey, Saturday was spent at UCLA–as was Sunday, but more on that later, obviously–in the company of a few Egyptologists I know and a lot that I didn’t, with the main thrust of the symposium–though they didn’t call it that–Egypt in the Days of Queen Cleopatra: A Study Day on Ptolemaic Egypt. Sounds like fun, huh? Surprisingly, for the most part, it was, as I always enjoy learning new things about topics that stir my fancy, as opposed to learning new things about subjects I couldn’t give a fig or any other fruit about. Being so far away, I missed the first two lectures. . . stopping at In-N-Out and Jamba might have something to do with my tardiness as well. Got there in the middle of Bilingualism in Hellenistic Egypt, which would have been of greater interest to me had I heard it from the beginning, but I muddled through it. Following was Ptolemaic Queens and Royal Propaganda, though I had no idea at this point that it would be about vases.
Those very few of you who have read this blog before no doubt remember my archaeological hero, Dr. Kara Cooney, who of course was in attendance and gave a little squeal when the speaker was introduced as receiving her Ph.D. from Johns Hopkins; I once again submit that Dr. Cooney is a giggly teenager with a giant brain. Anyhoo again, the speaker, Dr. Elizabeth Waraksa, turned out to be my favorite lecturer of the day, and not because she was a winsome blonde. {Shut up!} She explained how the Greek rulers of Egypt made themselves over to look like Egyptians to the locals while in the stuff they sent back home to Greece and other places–vases, coins, etc.–they were totally Greeked out. . . and no, I didn’t mean geeked out, though that’s possible too. BeeTeedubya {By The Way, shortened and then lengthened}, it took me forever to learn to pronounce, let alone spell, the name for those aforementioned vases: oinochoe. . . whom I kidding, I copied that from the internet. Most interesting was when she mentioned how the queens–the wives of the Pharaohs rather than someone like Dr. Cooney’s buddy Hatshepsut–became popular for the first time in Egyptian history, deified into what she termed a ruler cult. Unfortunately, when she mentioned the Fitzwilliam Museum at Cambridge I kinda zoned out for a minute, remembering my trips there.
I came back in time to wonder if the vases were colored, and as though on cue she talked about glazes and gold leaf, which was used to increase prestige for the owner. On a funnier note, she mentioned the priests came from the military and a lot of them were Olympic victors, with their daughters as the priestesses, which sounds weird until you remember that was pretty regular for pharaohs in earlier times. Interestingly enough, these propaganda vases all went around the Med, none of them going south.
On to audience questions, where someone mentioned the design on the vase had some Dionysus worship, which now that I think about it–and look really hard at the pictures–is pretty obvious. . . how I missed my favorite pagan god, I have no idea, but it’s a forehead slapper, alright. {Whom I kiddin’? Aphrodite is my fave. . .}
With all this information percolating in my brain, it was just the right time for a break, so I got to go over to Dr. Cooney and gently kid her as I always do. Amazingly she recognized me without hair, and as a photographer–only reason, of course–I couldn’t help but notice how much her eyes popped with the green sweater. Plus she was wearing jeans, which not many fashion-conscious professors do. Awesome. . .
Messed up on the guy in charge’s accent–I thought German, turned out he was Dutch–but luckily I didn’t say anything out loud, so if he never reads this he’ll never know.
Next up was the newly minted Dr. Barbara Richter, who told some fascinating and scary stories about her kids in the wine and cheese afterparty, but for now spoke about temples, calling her lecture Between Heaven and Earth. I’ve been to Egypt a few times, mostly as a tourist, but I can’t remember ever visiting the Temple of Isis at Philae, which looked particularly amazing from above. Amusing to me was learning what a sistrum was, a sacred rattle that might have been the ancestor of the
tambourine. One form of sistra {the plural of sistrum} was called a sesheshet, which was explained as being named after the sound it makes, but from my research I see it’s also the name of a queen, so there. Next us was the Temple of Denderah, which also looks fascinating, including secret doors leading into a basement that held crypts; not so sure I’d want to wander through them back when they were new, but looking at them through the photos they’re not so creepy, despite all the horror/erotica I’ve read on ancient Egyptian vampires. {Shut UP!} As though reading my mind, the next subject was “dream incubation,” where the goddess sends down a message through a dream; incubation is an interesting word in this context, but I’ll go with it. Hathor, being the Egyptian goddess of love in the same way as Aphrodite is to the Greeks and Venus to the Romans–I could go on forever–is of course my favorite here, so if I was flagging from the long day after a long night of insomnia, this perked me back up.
Since there’d been talk of music earlier, I now realized I hadn’t studied much on the Egyptian god on that subject, Ihy, who was the son of Hathor and Horus, as well as can be figured out anyway; mythology sure can be like a soap opera. I did get a chuckle at seeing that, while Hathor’s dress is almost floor-length, Horus is wearing what amounts to a miniskirt. Another interesting tidbit was a wall message where the cartouches were left blank; as someone mentioned in the Q&A, that meant the magic didn’t know where to go and was rendered useless. . .
Next up was Nature and Origin of the Cult of Saraphis, by Shanna Kennedy-Quigley, which I happen to think is an awesome name. She also lectured with a lot of fun and enthusiasm, and since I never got a good look at her, you can’t accuse me of saying all this because she’s pretty. . . cuz I know you guys never give me the benefit of the doubt. Anyhoo cubed, there’s a photo of what turned out to be an almost-life-size statue of the god Saraphis himself, with a Cerberus by his side. At this point it occurred to me that Alexandria under Greece sounds fascinating, but then it was mentioned the statue might have come from Sinop, a place in Turkey I know, so my mind wandered off in memory again; I gotta work on that. Another name discussed was Strabo, my favorite ancient scribe–suck it, Homer!–as well as Clement of Alexandria, who woulda been awesome had he not been so religious. At that point Shanna makes an oral booboo and goes “Oops!” which sounded so cute. Later on she said, “Pluto. . . not the dog, of course.” She even interrupted herself to bless a sneeze! “Sorry, habit.” Also enjoyed her use of the phrase “Cautious speculation,” followed by “Bam! There we go!” But probably the best was when, perhaps knowing the UCLA connection, she mentioned that the image of Saraphis on the screen “reminds me of the lead singer of the Doors.” She likes to nod eagerly too; she may officially be my second favorite Egyptian lecturer after Dr. Cooney, though Dr. Waraksa is up there too. . .
One more break, and then Dr. Jacco the Dutchman says, “Proud of all of you for sitting for five hours.” And then we get. . . CSI Alexandria! Last Days and Death of Cleopatra, by Dr. Robert Gurval, who teaches Classics here at the U-clan. He didn’t make much of it, but did mention something not many people–including some around me–know: Cleopatra VII is the famous one, and the previous ones–apparently not six–are hardly ever talked about. First he spoke about Pat Brown, a professional criminal profiler on the Discovery channel–I did not see Dr. Cooney’s reaction to the mention of her broadcast partners when she did her series–doing something similar to this, where the conclusion was, according to the profile, Cleopatra would not have committed suicide. Since I don’t think criminal profiling can cut across two millennia, when thought patterns and emotions and notions of honor were clearly different, I’m not putting much stock in that. . . and I have to say it’s
been difficult watching Criminal Minds ever since Paget Brewster left, this time of her own will. . . yes, I am the King–nay, the Pharaoh!–of tangents and digression!
Next up on my cruise along memory lane was the Hunterian Museum at the U of Glasgow, but this time I recovered quickly, and heard that Cleo had actually been in Rome when Julius Caesar was killed; don’t remember if Shakespeare mentions that. Some reference of the famous battle of Actium–which I think I had to read about in my few weeks at OCS–leads to Lucius Pinarus Scarpus, a relative of Octavius who nonetheless fought against him on Mark Anthony’s side, until after the
battle he saw which way the wind was blowing and switched. I just love that name, no doubt the inspiration for Tosca’s Scarpia; I need to read up on him.
Lest you think Cleopatra was the innocent victim of circumstance, let’s not forget she once sent the King of Armenia’s head to the King of Medea as a sign of friendship; though she had four kids, she was a queen first and a mother second. Another character I have to read up on is Selene, her daughter who became Queen of Mauretania, though I heard it as Macedonia at first. Already from what little I checked she seems to have been my kind of woman. . .
From there it was rounding up the usual suspects as to whether Cleopatra actually killed herself or died at the hands of the enemy, again making it sound vaguely soap opera-ish. I don’t know if I was expecting him to put forth his own theory, but I guess the lecture was more informational than actual crime-solving. . . at which point I like to cackle, “Maybe the forensics aren’t in yet!”
In the Q&A some old smelly guy–as in he’s-pissed-in-his-clothes smelly–who accosted me later made a denial/the Nile joke, and rightly Dr. Gurval wouldn’t let it end on that. Later on I told the guy that phrase had originated–as far as I knew–in a Dire Straits song: “Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt,” but as you might expect from the intellectual hoi polloi, that didn’t go over well.
A lot of people bailed quickly, so fast they didn’t hear Dr. Jacco–later found out his last name is Dieleman–say there would be wine and cheese on the balcony. . . and here I thought it would be a small landing jutting out from Royce Hall. Uh-uh, we’re talking about the big outside right in the middle of the two towers on the front; awesome view of the library and quad as I leaned on the old stone, taking in its memories. . . until I realized how many insects were chittering around me; ugh.
On to the table, where to add to the wonderful ambiance, the cheese was actually pretty good–you know how picky I am–and the crackers I took a chance on were great, so I scarfed all of them up. No idea what the other stuff was, but along with some pineapple slices I turned this into dinner! No wine for me, of course, though the catering gal was fun to talk to. . .
Whoa! Carillon is loud up here!
Soon enough all Egyptology chat ended as people got to know each other. Wanted to talk to Dr. Waraksa–and not to tell her “You pretty!”–but she got pigeonholed early and I never got the chance. That’s okay, I got to mess around with Dr. Cooney some more. Turned out she and Dr. Barbara both had two sisters and one brother, amongst other similarities, until I finally said, “Are you sure you two aren’t the same person?” Then Kara made some crack about how those without siblings turned out. . . her oh shit! face was priceless as I informed her, in an over-the-top fake huffy voice, that I was an only child. . .
Damn, I can write for hours, or at least pages! The next day will have to wait. . .

;o)