In the 1920s, Egyptologist Ralph M. Trilipush (secretive, arrogant, and paranoid) has pinned all his hopes on Atum-hadu. Trilipush translated and published the ancient Egyptian king’s erotic verses, but his fame in the field rests on finding the pharaoh’s tomb and accompanying riches. Trilipush is not especially well respected by his fellow scholars and he’s maddeningly jealous of Howard Carter’s recent discovery of the tomb of King Tut. But now he’s got the funding (from his opium-addicted fiancé’s wealthy father) for his own dig, and he knows that Atum-hadu is out there, under the Egyptian sun, waiting to be uncovered. If things don’t go according to plan—and with an Australian detective on his tail, investigating the disappearance of an explorer who had connections to our arrogant Egyptologist, plans might very well go awry—Ralph M. Trilipush is equipped with exactly the kind of raving megalomania to cope with the situation. Author Arthur Phillips’ tale of deceit, self-deceit, and exposure unfolds through a series of letters to and from Trilipush. With a streak of macabre humor peeking out amongst the drama and a mean twist of an ending, The Egyptologist is a strange, darkly comic creation that is sure to shock and surprise.

posted Aug 31, 2010 at 12:44PM

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