It is astounding that this book that has as its message that human nature is and was immutable was published and applauded in the wake of WWII, at a time where people attempted to reconcile the horrors of Holocaust and war camps. More than that, it was published in Finland, a country which in the Second World War was briefly allied with the Nazi Germany, in 1945. How ruthless of Mika Waltari. How brilliant of him. And how honest.

I was apprehensive when starting. It’s a translated work which was famously criticised for the translator taking liberties with removing content (yet it reads very pleasantly and I am not sure if I could do with more content). And it also feels a bit like a translation of ancient Egypt, its customs and systems. But I put this apprehension away, because how much poorer would I be if it stopped me from reading translated work? Also, my sister’s boyfriend was waiting on my opinion, having put this book in my hands, and it would be too awkward not to read it.

I’m glad I read this, I felt consummate pleasure at both enjoying a work of fiction and learning so much about ancient Egypt. While it feels like a page turner, it also manages to transmit large ideas that in many other books would and do appear pompous. There are clear allegories of war, of the futility of utopias and idealism, and a brilliantly written message of the need to resign ourselves to being forgotten in a way that brings solace.

Just a small caveat to an otherwise great book: it’s a book that has a very Supernatural vibe to it (NB: can someone please free those actors). All the women follow the saint/villain categories to the dot (with the saint ones dying of course, propelling the character forward). And that’s something I find hard to forgive, and I think that’s lazy. I find it hard to forgive this laziness when it’s coming from a writer who is STILL, almost 70 years later, being praised for his research on ancient Egypt.