Summary
"Irresistible....Amelia is still a joy."
-- New York Times Book Review
The intrepid archeologist Amelia Peabody and her fearless family, the Emersons, are back in Egypt, and something very nasty is afoot in Lord of the Silent -- New York Times bestselling Grandmaster Elizabeth Peters's sparkling adventure with more riddles than the Sphinx and more close calls and stunning escapes than an Indiana Jones movie. Reviewers are simply agog over Lord of the Silent, calling it, "Wonderfully entertaining" ( Washington Times ), "Deeply satisfying" ( Entertainment Weekly ), and in the words of the Toronto Globe and Mail , "The hype is true. This is Peters's best book."
Author Notes
Barbara Mertz was born on September 29, 1927 in Astoria, Illinois. She received a bachelor's degree in 1947, a master's degree in 1950 and doctorate in Egyptology in 1952 from the University of Chicago. She wrote a few books using her real name including Temples, Tombs and Hieroglyphs (1964), Red Land, Black Land (1966), and Two Thousand Years in Rome (1968). She also wrote under the pen names Barbara Michaels and Elizabeth Peters.
She made her fiction debut, The Master of Blacktower, under the name Barbara Michaels in 1966. She wrote over two dozen novels using this pen name including Sons of the Wolf, Someone in the House, Vanish with the Rose, Dancing Floor, and Other Worlds.
Her debut novel under the pen name Elizabeth Peters was The Jackal's Head in 1968. She also wrote the Amelia Peabody series and Vicky Bliss Mystery series using this name. She died on August 8, 2013 at the age of 85.
(Bowker Author Biography)
Publisher's Weekly Review
In Egypt, 1915, the redoubtable English archaeologist Amelia Peabody Emerson and her eccentric and closely knit group of family and friends are up to their old tricks. The Emersons may believe that they are merely engaging in another season of excavation, but legions of devoted readers know that Amelia's archaeological fervor has never stopped her from charging into another thrilling episode of crime-solving, dragging her husband and children enthusiastically along. Amelia's son, Ramses, and his new wife, Nefret, are trying to settle into their married life and find ways to build a more equal relationship with their overwhelming and irrepressibly adventurous parent. Amelia is worried, however, that an officious British army officer might try to recruit Ramses again as a spy (as in the previous book, 2000's He Shall Thunder in the Sky). To keep him out of the spymaster's clutches, she sends Ramses and Nefret off to Luxor to investigate a series of thefts from archaeological sites. As always in this series of uproarious Egyptological mysteries, plenty of strange doings are afoot in the desert, and readers will find all the delicious trappings of a vintage Peters extravaganza lost tombs, kidnappings, deadly attacks, mummies and sinister villains. (May 1) Forecast: Her large and faithful following will ensure that Peters, a Mystery Writers of America Grand Master, once again reaches the lofty heights of the bestseller lists. (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Booklist Review
If you thought that the Master Criminal bit the dust in Peters' He Shall Thunder in the Sky [BKL My 1 00], you'd be wrong. The infamous, exasperating Sethos, Amelia Peabody's devoted admirer (and Emerson's illegitimate half-brother and "deadliest enemy") has been resurrected. Having seemingly abandoned his righteous work for the British government in Egypt, he's back to his old tricks: stealing antiquities. Unfortunately, there's someone else in Luxor almost as nefarious as Sethos, who is looking for the very same extraordinary treasure. There are the requisite kidnappings, murders, and social obligations on the way to working everything out, but as in her previous books in the series, Peters delivers a great blend of adventure and wit; she even opens the way for Nefret and Ramses to advance into a few adventures all their own. And, of course, there's plenty of fun poked at stuffy early-twentieth-century British society and at heroics in general: as Emerson stoutly announces when congratulated on another astounding escape, "Good Gad . . . all that is required is courage and strength, superior intelligence, quick wits, the ability to respond instantly to unexpected emergencies." Enough said? --Stephanie Zvirin
Library Journal Review
In another exciting adventure from Peters's fertile pen, Amanda Peabody and husband Emerson are determined to return to their beloved Egypt to excavate at Giza despite the war with Germany. They are immediately plunged into danger when their son, Ramses, is attacked in the streets of Cairo. Since Sethos, the Peabodys' arch enemy, died in this work's predecessor (He Shall Thunder in the Sky), someone else is the culprit. Trailing the usual entourage of friends and loyal servants, Peabody and company must find out who is robbing royal tombs and producing inconvenient and unexpected corpses. Filled with her trademark elements of humor and romance, this will charm Peters's many fans. Essential for all public libraries. [Previewed in Prepub Alert, LJ 2/15/01.] Laurel Bliss, Arts Lib., Yale Univ., New Haven, CT (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Excerpts
Lord of the Silent Chapter One "I challenge even you, Peabody, to find a silver lining in this situation," Emerson remarked. We were in the library at Amarna House, our home in Kent. As usual, Emerson's desk resembled an archaeological tell, piled high with books and papers and dusty with ashes from his pipe. The servants were strictly forbidden to touch his work, so the ashes were only disturbed when Emerson rooted around in one pile or another, looking for something. Leaning back in his chair, he stared morosely at the bust of Plato on the opposite bookshelf Plato stared morosely back. He had replaced the bust of Socrates, which had been shattered by a bullet a few years ago, and his expression was not nearly so pleasant. The October morn was overcast and cool, a portent of the winter weather that would soon be upon us, and a reflection of the somber mood that affected most persons; and I was bound to confess that these were indeed times to try men's souls. When the war began in August of 1914, people were saying it would be over by Christmas. By the autumn of 1915, even the sturdiest optimists had resigned themselves to a long, bloody conflict. After appalling casualties, the opposing armies on the western front had settled into the stalemate of trench warfare, and the casualties continued to mount. The attempt to force the Straits of the Dardanelles and capture Constantinople had been a failure. A hundred thousand men were pinned down on the beaches of Gallipoli, unable to advance because of the enemy's control of the terrain, unable to withdraw because the War Office refused to admit it had made a catastrophic mistake. Serbia was about to fall to the enemy. The Russian armies were in disarray. Italy had entered the war on our side, but her armies were stalled on the Austrian frontier. Attack from the air and from under the sea had added a new and hideous dimension to warfare. There was a bright spot, though, and I was quick to point it out. After a summer spent in England we were about to leave for Egypt and another season of the archaeological endeavors for which we have become famous. My distinguished husband would not have abandoned his excavations for anything less than Armageddon (and only if that final battle were being fought in his immediate vicinity). Though acutely conscious of the tragedy of world war, he was sometimes inclined to regard it as a personal inconvenience-- "a confounded nuisance ," to quote Emerson himself. It had certainly complicated our plans for that season. With overland travel to the Italian ports now cut off, there was only one way for us to reach Egypt, and German submarines prowled the English coast. Not that Emerson was concerned for himself, he fears nothing in this world or the next. It was concern for the others who were accustomed to join us in our yearly excavations that made him hesitate: for me; for our son Ramses and his wife, Nefret; for Ramses's friend David and his wife Lia, Emerson's niece; for her parents, Emerson's brother Walter and my dear friend Evelyn; and for Sennia, the little girl we had taken into our hearts and home after she was abandoned by her English father. "It only remains," I went on, "to decide how many of us will be going out this year. I had never supposed Lia would join us; the baby is only six months old and although he is a healthy little chap, one would not want to risk his falling ill. Medical services in Cairo have improved enormously since our early days there, but one cannot deny that they are not--" "Damn it, Amelia, don't lecture!" Emerson exclaimed. Emerson's temper has become the stuff of legend in Egypt; he is not called the Father of Curses for nothing. Sapphirine orbs blazing, heavy brows drawn together, he reached for his pipe. Emerson seldom calls me Amelia. Peabody, my maiden name, is the one he employs as a term of approbation and affection. Pleased to have stirred him out of his melancholy mood, I waited until his stalwart form relaxed and his handsome face took on a sheepish smile. "I beg your pardon, my love." "Granted," I replied magnanimously. The library door opened and Gargery, our butler, poked his head in. "Did you call, Professor?" "I didn't call you, " Emerson replied. "And you know it. Go away, Gargery." Gargery's snub-nosed countenance took on a look of stubborn determination. "Would you and the madam care for coffee, sir?" "We just now finished breakfast," Emerson reminded him. "If I want something I will ask for it." "Shall I switch on the electric lights, sir? I believe we are due for a rainstorm. My rheumatism--" "Curse your rheumatism!" Emerson shouted. "Get out of here, Gargery." The door closed with something of a slam. Emerson chuckled. "He's as transparent as a child, isn't he?" "Has he been nagging you about taking him to Egypt this year?" "Well, he does it every year, doesn't he? Now he is claiming the damp winter climate gives him the rheumatics." "I wonder how old he is. He hasn't changed a great deal since we first met him. Hair of that sandy shade does not show gray, and he is still thin and wiry." "He's younger than we are," said Emerson with a chuckle. "It is not his age that concerns me, Peabody, my dear. We made a bad mistake when we allowed our butler to take a hand in our criminal investigations. It has given him ideas below his station." "You must admit he was useful," I said, recalling certain of those earlier investigations. "That year we left Nefret and Ramses here in England, one or both of them might have been abducted by Schlange's henchmen if it hadn't been for Gargery and his cudgel." Lord of the Silent . Copyright © by Elizabeth Peters. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold. Excerpted from Lord of the Silent by Elizabeth Peters All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.