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A few years ago I visited the temple of Hatshepsut, ancient Egypt’s most powerful female ruler. Looking at the stories carved into the walls, I loved imagining this inspiring woman ordering such a unique and humbling monument to be built according to her vision. Those memories came rushing back as I read Daughter of Egypt, which unfolds across two timelines. In ancient Thebes, Hatshepsut seizes power against the odds, and in 1920s Egypt, Lady Evelyn Herbert (Eve), daughter of Lord Carnarvon, financier of the Tutankhamun dig, becomes consumed with uncovering the story behind Hatshepsut’s posthumous erasure from history.

Benedict imagines Eve, known mainly as her father’s traveling companion and the first modern person to enter Tutankhamun’s tomb, as a curious young woman working alongside archeologist Howard Carter, determined to restore Hatshepsut’s story. Running parallel is Hatshepsut’s rise: a woman maneuvering through court politics, carving her place on Egypt’s throne, and fighting to secure her family’s legacy.

The strongest part of the book is the archaeological setting: the hot, dusty atmosphere of the digs, the anticipation of excavation, and the political undercurrents of the protectorate era and ownership of antiquities. I also enjoyed the sections on Hatshepsut’s reign. Though brief, they shine with her ambition and determination. For a pharaoh whose monuments were later defaced, it feels powerful to see her story reconstructed in fiction.

I admire Benedict’s mission with this book: she writes about women who history has overlooked, and pairing Evelyn with Hatshepsut makes for an interesting parallel of young women fighting to be seen at very different times in history. And I know that taking creative liberties is part of writing historical fiction. But I felt that the author leaned too hard on reinvention for the sake of story. The novel hinges on Eve and Carter’s shared obsession with Hatshepsut, but per the author, this is entirely made up.

I also didn’t love her choice to elevate Eve, who comes across as a privileged, self-absorbed aristocrat who thinks of herself as the only one who can uncover Hatshepsut’s truth. I found myself wishing Benedict had chosen to profile a different overlooked figure rather than reshaping Eve into a scholar and savior.

I’d recommend Daughter of Egypt to readers who enjoy atmospheric historical fiction, especially dual-timeline stories about women reclaiming their place in history.

Thanks to NetGalley and St. Martin’s Press for the ARC – all opinions are my own.

Interested in exploring Hatshepsut’s story? The New York Times recently published an interesting article about an Egyptologist’s new theory about the reasons for her erasure. It’s all scholarly interpretation of course – a concept that’s top of mind for me after just finishing Ian McEwan’s new novel What We Can Know, about the nature of knowledge and what we can truly know about the past. I’ll be reviewing that one next month!