On Amelia Peabody...
Last night, I finished a book called "Crocodile on the Sandbank" by Elizabeth Peters. It’s the first in a series about a reasonably wealth woman in the 19th century named Amelia Peabody who is fascinated by ancient Egyptian history and mythology who becomes a sort of female (and much more eloquent) Indiana Jones.
I’ve read another Amelia Peabody mystery from later in the series (because I couldn’t find the first book at that time) and fell in love with Elizabeth Peters’ writing style. I was surprised to realize that the first book in the series was published in 1975. You could honestly never tell. Actually, you’d really never know when it was written-it could have been yesterday, it could have been a hundred years ago. That, to me, is the mark of a great artist of any sort. If you can make your work timeless then you have mastered the ability to last through the ages.
Ms. Peters unabashedly uses “50 cent” words and amusing alternatives to the more popular, more crude modern way of speaking and writing. She’ll certainly never be accused of being gritty or edgy or having written the Great American Novel, but she will appeal to a wide audience for many, many years. Her stories, and method of storytelling, are entertaining and escapist and exactly what the doctor ordered on a cold, dreary November day with a hot mug of tea and a cozy couch. Her characters are amusing, she connects with the emotions of the reader without having to cram pages of bleak prose down their throats, and-perhaps most importantly-you cannot help but to keep reading. I finished this last book in two sittings. I’d have finished it in one but I had to work.
In “Crocodile”, Amelia inherits a fortune from her recently departed Egyptologist father and decides to go and see the things that he (and she, to that point) had only read about. She’s 32 years old, finds marriage to be an appalling state (or something along those lines), and has no use for Victorian proprieties, so she isn’t troubled about heading out on her own. Along her way, she stops in Rome and encounters Evelyn, a fallen noblewoman who was tricked out of her grandfather’s inheritance by some Italian idiot who wooed her. Amelia picks her up, dusts her off, and decides to take her along to Egypt.
Once in Cairo, they stop to get stocked up and hire a boat to cruise them up and down the Nile. Here they encounter a myriad of characters: the Frenchman in charge of the antiquities museum; their dragoman (interpreter and guide) Michael; their boat crew; the brothers Emerson, Walter and Radcliffe, who are archeologists heading out for the “Winter season”; Evelyn’s dolt of a cousin, Lucas, who ended up with Granddad’s inheritance that was supposed to be hers and now wants to marry her and give her the money she deserves; and, at one point, Alberto the Italian lover. Also, Amelia gets to visit the three Great Pyramids (and I love that passage) which establish in her an even more tremendous passion for Egypt.
After many storyline introductions, things get moving as Amelia and Evelyn head off down the Nile, the Emerson brothers head to their dig, and Lucas is left behind to hire a boat to follow Evelyn down the river to try to persuade her to marry him (since it wouldn’t be proper for him to take up residence on their boat). The ladies’ paths cross the Emersons' paths once more as they encounter a sick Radcliffe at the archeological dig. Amelia, somewhat handy with medicines, fixes him up and they decide to hang out at the dig for a bit to help out while Radcliffe is down for the count. Amelia falls even more in love with Egypt with more historical discoveries, including a mummy.
Well, of course, if you have a mummy on the scene, chaos will follow. I really can’t discuss much more of the plot without unraveling (hee hee) the mystery, so I’ll discuss the other elements. Evelyn and Walter fall headlong into young, gorgeous love but she’s worried she can’t marry a decent man because of her Italian-ridden past. He’s worried he can’t woo her (I suppose) because he’s broke. They are very sweetly star-crossed for a short while. Amelia, against her better judgment, thinks Radcliffe is an annoyingly swell bloke and he’ll do if he’d just shut up and listen to her more often. He is similarly affected by her (except I don’t think he thinks of her as a bloke). They, the stronger characters, are infinitely more amusing to watch come together and there is the sense of a deeper connection between the two by the end.
Ms. Peters’ does an excellent job of not making this a romance novel. It’s not one and wouldn’t be as interesting or well developed if it were. The establishment of Radcliffe (he is called Emerson throughout the novel) and Amelia (Radcliffe calls her Peabody) as a strong, adventurous couple is necessary (besides being interesting on its own) to the rest of the series.
That all said, I’d highly recommend this book, as well as the rest of the series, to anyone in search of a ridiculously well written, fast, escapist read.