A riveting account of Lady Evelyn Herbert—the overlooked force behind the discovery of Tutankhamun’s tomb. Set against the Egyptomania of 1920s London, the novel follows Evelyn’s daring pursuit of Hatshepsut, Egypt’s erased woman-pharaoh, and the dangerous choices she faces between family loyalty, professional ambition, and a dream that could rewrite history.
My Review
Thank you so much to St Martin Press & Netgalley for the ARC!
I went into Daughter of Egypt fully expecting a five star read. Ancient Egypt is very much my thing, and the premise alone had me hooked. Set against the frenzy of 1920s London and Egypt following the discovery of Tutankhamun’s tomb, the story centers on Lady Evelyn Herbert and her fascination with Hatshepsut, one of Egypt’s few female pharaohs whose legacy was deliberately erased. On paper, this should have worked beautifully. In practice, it never quite came together for me. The dual timelines felt disjointed, and the past sections with Hatshepsut only offered brief snapshots rather than a fully realized portrait of a woman ruling in a world built for men.
You must understand that our ancient history isn’t in the past. It reverberates within and without, in our blood and in the world around us, and galvanizes us when necessary. Women, Egyptian women in particular, are like the desert sand. We are walked upon every day by people who are oblivious to our fine, yet strong, grains and who take our presence for granted. But then, one day, we will sweep up into a mighty storm and transform the land.
Evelyn herself was a tough character for me to connect with. I appreciated her lack of interest in society life and her determination to be involved in the excavations, but she often came across as entitled and single minded. Her obsession with finding Hatshepsut’s tomb made the eventual discovery of King Tut feel oddly anticlimactic, especially since her reaction borders on petulant disappointment rather than awe. The depiction of archaeology as something closer to a treasure hunt also rubbed me the wrong way. The wealthy British men funding and leading these digs, their outrage when Egypt wanted to retain its own history, and the lack of care for cultural context were all historically accurate, but still uncomfortable to read. Unfortunately, there was not enough character depth or emotional payoff to balance that discomfort.
Hatshepsut’s sections were equally frustrating in a different way. Instead of diving into the complexity of her reign, the isolation of absolute power, and the calculated choices she had to make, much of her storyline focused on her relationships rather than her leadership. Add in lengthy descriptions of the opulence of Highclere Castle and other lavish settings, and it felt like time was being spent in places that did little to serve the heart of the story. I respect the research and intent behind Marie Benedict’s work, but this felt like a missed opportunity to truly explore women who deserved far more depth. I did not hate it, but I closed the book feeling disappointed and wishing it had gone further than just scratching the surface.