Phillips, Arthur. The Egyptologist. Sept. 2004. 432p. illus. Random, $24.95 (1-4000-6250-0).
Phillips follows up his first novel, the best-selling Prague (2002), with an equally inventive if totally unexpected foray into ancient Egypt. The novel is artfully constructed in the form of letters and journal entries written by unreliable narrators, the primary one being erstwhile Egyptologist Ralph Trilipush. Obsessed with fragments of hieroglyphic pornography reputed to be the work of King Atum-hadu, Ralph talks his opium-addicted fiancée’s wealthy father into bankrolling his expedition to Egypt, where he hopes to unearth the king’s tomb. Meanwhile, his every move is being tracked by dogged detective Harold Ferrell, who thinks Ralph is not only a fraud but also a murderer. There are many funny bits about Ralph’s tendency to romanticize all things Egypt and about his burning jealousy of Howard Carter, the real-life archaeologist who discovered King Tut’s tomb; in addition, the novel’s layered construction cleverly reveals the reality beneath Ralph’s endlessly self-serving commentary. Some readers might find the amount of pharaonic minutiae tedious reading, but it all serves to support the novel’s shocking yet entirely credible ending and its themes of the longing for immortality and the nature of identity. Phillips proves himself once again to be a wildly creative storyteller. —Joanne Wilkinson
(Booklist/ June 1 & 15, 2004)
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