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3.69 AVERAGE
3.69 AVERAGE
informative
reflective
slow-paced
I went through an Egyptomania phase in high school, and thought I knew all there was to know about Hatchepsut. Turns out, most of what I knew was wrong, wrong wrong! The author painstakingly separates fact from myth and paints a picture of a much less dramatic female pharaoh.
It was a quick read.
It was a quick read.
informative
slow-paced
This is a comprehensive look into Hatchepsut. I really like learning about Ancient Egypt, and all of the Pharaohs and mythology. Joyce Tyldesley always does a good job in her writing style and research. I always learn a lot from her work.
Honestly, I think Hatshepsut is kinda overrated. Kind of like Nefertiti. Don't get me wrong, I think she was incredible, but I'm far more interested in Neferusobek (the first female king to adopt the full royal titulary) and Tawosret (arguably more successful than Hatshepsut* despite the tumultous end of her reign). But this is a good book: it's simply impossible to create a comprehensive biography of Hatshepsut, given how little is known of her life and character. Dr. Joyce Tyldesley gives it her best shot—perhaps embellishing at times—and the overall result is good, albeit frustratingly sparse from an historiographic perspective. (It's also notably outdated in several areas—the book was published in 1996.)
I did find it interesting that Dr. Tyldesley didn't explore the gendered nature of Middle Egyptian. The word for "king" in Middle Egyptian, nswt-bjtj, is grammatically masculine and has neither a feminine equivalent nor the ability to take feminine markers. Hatshepsut referred to herself in official records as "king" because the word for "queen" referred to the female consort of a male king. Despite adopting a grammatically masculine label, Hatshepsut had herself depicted in art as notably female as per the rules of contemporary ancient Egyptian iconography.
I don't necessarily agree with Dr. Tyldesley's assertion that Hatshepsut "would prefer to be remembered" as a king. I think not only that it's highly presumptuous to assume we know anything about how Hatshepsut would have wanted to be remembered, but also that Hatshepsut did most likely want to be remembered as the king of Egypt—because that's the title she adopted and used throughout her reign.
Also worth noting is that the fact Hatshepsut (or any other female king) adopted the iconography associated with the position of king did not mean she had adopted the iconography associated with masculinity: Hatshepsut referred to herself as a woman and a king. She wore the fake beard because that was a symbol of her position; clean-shaven male rulers also wore the fake beard. Here's an example of a statue of Hatshepsut, currently on display at the Metropolitan Museum of Art:
As you can see, Hatshepsut is depicted as female, with breasts and more feminine hips. Hieroglyphs on the side of the throne upon which she's seated refer to her as a "perfect goddess, lady of the two lands" and "earthly daughter of Ra." These titles, unlike the word for king, have been modified to be feminine. She is wearing a nemes (the headcloth) and shendyt (the skirt), both parts of the traditional ceremonial attire of an Egyptian king. Other statues depict her wearing the crown of Upper Egypt and the false beard, or as the physical embodiment of the ideal king of Egypt, or wearing a mixture of masculine and feminine attire. The Met's website describes these statues as those which:
*Not much is known about the details of Tawosret's life, but it's thought that her reign ended with a civil war which ended with her death either of natural or unnatural causes. Because so little is known about her, it's difficult to determine what she was like, but notably she was a victim of damnatio memoriae (i.e., her name was striken from the historical record) immediately after her reign ended. This was relatively common practice; Hatshepsut's, in comparison, was only removed several generations later. Tawosret was also omitted from the Medinet Habu king list in an attempt to delegitimise her rule; Ramses III, whose memorial temple holds the list, was the son of Sethnakhte, who apparently defeated Tawosret.
I did find it interesting that Dr. Tyldesley didn't explore the gendered nature of Middle Egyptian. The word for "king" in Middle Egyptian, nswt-bjtj, is grammatically masculine and has neither a feminine equivalent nor the ability to take feminine markers. Hatshepsut referred to herself in official records as "king" because the word for "queen" referred to the female consort of a male king. Despite adopting a grammatically masculine label, Hatshepsut had herself depicted in art as notably female as per the rules of contemporary ancient Egyptian iconography.
I don't necessarily agree with Dr. Tyldesley's assertion that Hatshepsut "would prefer to be remembered" as a king. I think not only that it's highly presumptuous to assume we know anything about how Hatshepsut would have wanted to be remembered, but also that Hatshepsut did most likely want to be remembered as the king of Egypt—because that's the title she adopted and used throughout her reign.
Also worth noting is that the fact Hatshepsut (or any other female king) adopted the iconography associated with the position of king did not mean she had adopted the iconography associated with masculinity: Hatshepsut referred to herself as a woman and a king. She wore the fake beard because that was a symbol of her position; clean-shaven male rulers also wore the fake beard. Here's an example of a statue of Hatshepsut, currently on display at the Metropolitan Museum of Art:
As you can see, Hatshepsut is depicted as female, with breasts and more feminine hips. Hieroglyphs on the side of the throne upon which she's seated refer to her as a "perfect goddess, lady of the two lands" and "earthly daughter of Ra." These titles, unlike the word for king, have been modified to be feminine. She is wearing a nemes (the headcloth) and shendyt (the skirt), both parts of the traditional ceremonial attire of an Egyptian king. Other statues depict her wearing the crown of Upper Egypt and the false beard, or as the physical embodiment of the ideal king of Egypt, or wearing a mixture of masculine and feminine attire. The Met's website describes these statues as those which:
[...] represent Hatshepsut as the ideal king, a young man in the prime of life. This does not mean that she was trying to fool anyone into thinking that she was a man. She was merely following traditions established more than 1500 years earlier. In fact, the inscriptions on the masculine statues include her personal name, Hatshepsut, which means "foremost of noble women," or a feminine grammatical form that indicates her gender."Although many of Hatshepsut's statues depict her as the ideal king," the Met also explains, "the inscriptions always allude to her feminine gender, sometimes by using both masculine and feminine grammatical forms, sometimes by including her personal name, Hatshepsut."
*Not much is known about the details of Tawosret's life, but it's thought that her reign ended with a civil war which ended with her death either of natural or unnatural causes. Because so little is known about her, it's difficult to determine what she was like, but notably she was a victim of damnatio memoriae (i.e., her name was striken from the historical record) immediately after her reign ended. This was relatively common practice; Hatshepsut's, in comparison, was only removed several generations later. Tawosret was also omitted from the Medinet Habu king list in an attempt to delegitimise her rule; Ramses III, whose memorial temple holds the list, was the son of Sethnakhte, who apparently defeated Tawosret.
A fascinating, academic biography of Hatchepsut. The book starts with enough general information about the time period and the other Egyptian rulers that I was able to understand the context. This book does an excellent job telling both the story of the archaeological evidence (such as it is) as well as the story of the history of scholars and their own biases that affected their interpretations of the evidence. Hatchepsut is a tantalizing figure. How did this woman become not just a queen, but a king? What was her relationship to her step-son who became the next Pharaoh? Did she have a romance with her architect. Because her history was attacked and largely obscured in antiquity for unknown reasons, likely, though not necessarily, because she was a woman who took the (male) role of King, we don't have clear answers.
I have read both of Tyldesley's female pharaoh books. (Cleopatra: Last Queen of Egypt) Both of them are enjoyable reads, and I think Tyldesley approaches Hatchepsut and Cleopatra objectively as possible. But if I had to choose a favorite book it would be Hatchepsut. Tyldesley tries to recreate the past without overwhelming the reader with preconceived ideas of who this lost pharaoh was. She offers the possibilities from archaeologists and historians, while including her own objective ideas.
informative
challenging
informative
slow-paced
informative
slow-paced
Meh.
This is a very well-written biography, I'll say that right away. The author is engaging, and explains things as clearly as she can to ground the reader into something they can relate to, in a culture very different than ours. We try to read as we can feel the events, rather than just dry names and numbers. Hatchepsut, after all, was one of Egypt's better kings, much to the contrast to the more famous, but failing
But unfortunately, what we can get out of the book is that historians hardly have any idea about her reign at all, other than that she led Egypt to trade with a poorer country called Punt somewhere to the southeast, ruled by a very fat queen; and that she designed and built a very large temple. Nothing else is concrete. There are hints of rivalry with her step-son; there are hints of a love story gone wrong with the architect Senenmut. There may have been a war, or at least a series of minor rebellions in conquered territory. But combined with propaganda and the mysterious, sudden attacks of her name and image done sometime after her death left us confused and uncertain, and while I left the book definitely knowing more about the Pharaoh, history, not the author, left me a bit disappointed.
This is a very well-written biography, I'll say that right away. The author is engaging, and explains things as clearly as she can to ground the reader into something they can relate to, in a culture very different than ours. We try to read as we can feel the events, rather than just dry names and numbers. Hatchepsut, after all, was one of Egypt's better kings, much to the contrast to the more famous, but failing
But unfortunately, what we can get out of the book is that historians hardly have any idea about her reign at all, other than that she led Egypt to trade with a poorer country called Punt somewhere to the southeast, ruled by a very fat queen; and that she designed and built a very large temple. Nothing else is concrete. There are hints of rivalry with her step-son; there are hints of a love story gone wrong with the architect Senenmut. There may have been a war, or at least a series of minor rebellions in conquered territory. But combined with propaganda and the mysterious, sudden attacks of her name and image done sometime after her death left us confused and uncertain, and while I left the book definitely knowing more about the Pharaoh, history, not the author, left me a bit disappointed.