Things Beloved: Mara Daughter of the Nile

I do not remember how old I was when I first read Eloise Jarvis McGraw’s Mara Daughter of the Nile. 12, perhaps. And I have probably read it nearly a dozen times since then.

This book rests firmly in the category of “books-that-I-love-till-death-do-us-part-but-am-not-sure-if-they-are-as-good-as-I-think-because-I-am-blinded-by-old-affection.” I find that books read in my teenaged years often fall into this category. The impression they made on me was so great, the warmth and coziness and joy I feel when I think about them is so tied up in my formative years, I can hardly be objective.

Mara Daughter of the Nile is the story of a young slave girl in ancient Egypt who, with hopes for eventual freedom, winds up a double spy for servants of both Queen Hatshepsut and her brother Thutmose. Initially indifferent to who wins or how, she falls in love (because, of course) and there’s all sorts of repartee, skullduggery, and bits of Egyptian history.

There are a few obnoxious cliches, such as the “different-eyed heroine,” and an excessive use of the word ‘beribboned,’ but I hardly noticed any such thing at the time. Later I found that there are also a few historical inaccuracies. The author chose to frame Queen Hatshepsut as the villain and the young Thutmose as the hero, and I hear tell the opposite might have been the case. I’ve not studied the period in sufficient detail to know for sure.

But the nature of the real historical figures is not why one reads this book. One reads this book for Mara. For Sheftu. For Innani. For adventure and romance.

Mara

Mara is something of a prototype for the sort of YA protagonist one sees frequently nowadays. She’s rebellious, she’s clever, she’s attractive, she’s mistreated. But this was before so many YA leads were action figures; she doesn’t engage in fisticuffs, but rather battles of wits.

The thing I like particularly about Mara, which many books fail to convey effectively but this one executes pretty well, is her initial indifference to “the cause.” Up until the last third of the book, her main goals remain the same selfish (albeit very understandable) goals from the beginning of the book. Acquire freedom. Stay alive. Live a life of luxury. Who cares under which Pharaoh she does so?

She doesn’t care about the literal or abstract ‘fate of Egypt.’ She’s had a hard life and she wants to get hers. Even a burgeoning romance barely makes a dent in this attitude until shortly before the denouement.

This isn’t actually my favorite sort of character–the selfish, indifferent kind–but it really works here. It jives with her background and personality. It’s not just thrown in there to create drama.

Of note, Mara is a linguist whose duty throughout much of the book is as a translator. It is possible this simple little fact influenced the whole course of my life, a matter of which I will speak more later.

Mara is also very arrogant, another characteristic that I usually dislike in a protagonist. But it’s not left unaddressed. For a huge portion of the book she treats the Babylonian princess, Innani, with considerable disdain. She looks down on her as a ‘stupid barbarian.’ But her perspective changes (slowly, for she is stubborn) as she begins to see the quality of Innani’s character.

So this would be a good time to talk about Innani.

Innani

Innani is, at first, mere means to end for Mara. She is the “barbarian” Canaanite princess sent for by Queen Hatshepsut for the express purpose of taunting Thutmose with a bride that he will certainly deem inferior to himself. Innani’s very purpose in the book is to be scorned by Thutmose, mocked by everyone, and used by Mara (and others).

Since Innani does not speak Egyptian, an interpreter is required because Thutmose will not deign to speak her ‘barbarian’ tongue. Mara speaks Babylonian fluently, and she is to use her position as interpreter to glean information for one master (on Hatshepsut’s side) and convey messages for another (on Thutmose’s side).

Innani herself–alone, isolated, looked down upon–is initially treated with scorn even by the narrative itself, although mostly through the Egyptian pride exhibited in Mara’s personal thoughts towards Innani. But over time, Innani is shown to be kind, compassionate, far more intuitive than people give her credit for, and resourceful in figuring out how to live and endure when she is so clearly an unwanted guest.

While I honestly feel the narrative still could have done a little better by Innani, I do like what her character has to offer to the story: a friend that is kinder to Mara than she really deserves, a person who experiences unkindness and arrogance but handles it, if not with perfection, at least with compassion and patience and a modicum of dignity. She is a soft, selfless, and uncynical contrast to Mara’s harsh, selfish, and cynical character. The friendship that develops between them is not the focus of the book, but it is sweet and good.

Romance (Sheftu)

I am at the point of confession. When I first read this book, it was probably the most romance-y thing I’d ever read in my life. I mean, it has two or even three kisses in it, you guys. That was almost more than 12-year-old me could handle. And I looooooooved it. The romance between Mara and Sheftu probably has a great deal to do with what I deem ‘romantic’ to this day.

I have no idea what I would think of it if I only read it for the first time now, instead of nearly 20 years ago. That timeline does not exist. I can tell you nothing of it.

Both Sheftu and Mara have ruthless streaks and each has the explicit objective of utilizing the other to gain what they want. This is out in the open. Mara wants freedom and riches, and working for (and tricking) Sheftu gives her the opportunity to achieve that and he knows it. Sheftu needs her skill and savvy to set his best friend and master (Thutmose) on the throne, and he would slit her throat in a hot second if he felt like she threatened that objective. And she knows it.

Both have the power to destroy the other’s life and–almost up to the end–both are quite willing to use that power if necessary. They are not enemies, exactly, but they both have their own end-goals which eventually clash.

Of course they begin to care for one another, which makes having the other’s throat slit much more difficult, as one might expect. Naturally this means they are both angry at themselves for allowing the other to be a distraction. Why do I love this so much? I don’t know.

Beyond that there’s a bit of that old upstairs-downstairs-type tension: Sheftu is a great Lord, wealthy and powerful. Mara is a slave and a ‘guttersnipe.’ This theme is not the main focus, but I am a sucker for these upstairs-downstairs dynamics. Again, I don’t know. Or I suppose it’s the romance of overcoming a social barrier, or the idea of someone who ought never to even notice the ‘guttersnipe’ finding them just too darn intriguing to ignore. It’s that idea that someone’s character, strength, or brilliance is hard for even those who want to ignore it to do so.

Heroism

Here there be spoilers.

At the end Mara has become fully dedicated to Sheftu’s cause of bringing down Hatshepsut and putting Thutmose on the throne. So, naturally, just as she has become loyal, Sheftu discovers all her previous treachery and assumes that she is going to carry out her betrayal (which she has only just decided not to do!!) Delicious, cruel irony.

Mara is trapped multiple times and nearly killed, but she manages to finagle herself out of all trouble until the last minute where she basically sacrifices herself to save Thutmose’s resistance.

She is interrogated and beaten within an inch of her life (literally) but refuses to name names.

This right here is my favorite part of any book. 

The hero no longer expects to make it. They hold strong to save others, but they themselves have no hope. Indeed the people she is saving, as far as she knows, still think she’s a traitor. And as far as she knows, no one will honor her for what she does. Heroic self-sacrifice narratives will always be my favorite.

Now even I can admit that this is not the most excellently-wrought version of the heroic self-sacrifice story. There are myriad contrivances towards the end of the book, and there is one heck of a cheesy romantic line following the denouement that made me wince even in my 12-year-old rapture.

Did it matter to my love for this book. Apparently not. I just read again it last month.

A Formative Book

A few years ago I was re-reading this book and it had been quite a long while since I read it, and I made a discovery.

So many of the tropes, scenarios, and character dynamics that I love to write are to be found in this book. I always knew I loved it but I never realized how formative it was. Once I read it I set about a fierce hunt for anything else that could satisfy this particular literary craving. My tastes have changed and grown, and maybe this book would not mean much to me if I read it for the first time just now. But I can say that the hunt that this book (and two or three others) started led me to write my own book.

And as to Mara’s role as translator? Well, 12-year-old me didn’t know that I would work for five years as a translator in the Marine Corps, now did she…but that’s what happened. And the role of languages, dialects, and interpreters still factor heavily into the kinds of stories I love to write.