Hatshepsut's Rise to Power in Ancient Egypt
Ratings10
Average rating3.7
Hatshepsut—the daughter of a general who usurped Egypt's throne and a mother with ties to the previous dynasty—was born into a privileged position in the royal household, and she was expected to bear the sons who would legitimize the reign of her father’s family. Her failure to produce a male heir was ultimately the twist of fate that paved the way for her improbable rule as a cross-dressing king. At just over twenty, Hatshepsut ascended to the rank of pharaoh in an elaborate coronation ceremony that set the tone for her spectacular reign as co-regent with Thutmose III, the infant king whose mother Hatshepsut out-maneuvered for a seat on the throne. Hatshepsut was a master strategist, cloaking her political power plays in the veil of piety and sexual reinvention. Just as women today face obstacles from a society that equates authority with masculinity, Hatshepsut shrewdly operated the levers of power to emerge as Egypt's second female pharaoh.
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I won this book as a Goodreads first reads give-away. The book is about the reign of King Hatshepsut who ruled Egypt first as regent to her toddler nephew, Thutmose III, and then as co-king with him. Kara Cooney writes in the Author's Note at the beginning of the book that due to the length of time and the Egyptians superficial methods of reporting on a ruler's reign, there was a lot of conjecture in the book. This was distracting at times since the author would propose one theory for a large portion of a chapter and then end with...but maybe that person was already dead by that time or maybe the complete opposite reasoning was behind a particular outcome. She does this a number of times with Hatshepsut's daughter Nefrure, who was maybe being raised to succeed her mother when the tide changed against her. Or maybe she was dead.
I did like the book. It seems very well researched and it is an interesting defense of a woman that wielded great power for over twenty peaceful years. The author mentions many times how suspicious early Egyptologists where of her reign...assuming that she was a power-hungry bitch that stole the throne from the rightful heir. Nevermind that he was 2 or 3 years old at the time and quite unable to rule. Nevermind the fact that she was a successful ruler that greatly increased the wealth of Egypt during her reign. Nevermind the extensive building that she sponsored. There seems to be no evidence that she was not considered a good ruler and a great deal of evidence showing that she was the reason her dynasty was able to continue. When Thutmose III finally did elect to have her erased from the records, he intentionally did not do a complete job (taking out only references to her as King) and waited 20 years after her death to even do this. It seems likely he was motivated more to try and shore up the line of succession for his heir than to get rid of the evil usurper.
Overall though, I feel that the book would have made more sense at times if it were a well researched work of historical fiction than as a history book filled with so much theory.
Originally posted on bluchickenninja.com.
Hatshepsut was born into a privileged position in the royal household, and she was expected to bear the sons who would legitimise the reign of her father's family. Her failure to produce a male heir was ultimately the twist of fate that paved the way for her improbable rule as a cross-dressing king.
Hatshepsut successfully negotiated a path from the royal nursery to the very pinnacle of authority, and her reign saw one of Ancient Egypt's most prolific building periods. Scholars have long speculated as to why her monuments were destroyed within a few decades of her death, all but erasing evidence of her unprecedented rule. The Woman Who Would Be King traces the unconventional life of an almost-forgotten pharaoh and explores our complicated reactions to women in power.
This book is fascinating but it is also extremely frustrating. The author concedes that we do not have much information about Hatshepust. We know very little about her personality, her political manoeuvring and her relationships with her father, Thutmose I, her brother and husband, Thutmose II, and her nephew and co-regent, Thutmose III. The author makes liberal use of words like “perhaps” and “maybe”, she poses numerous questions asking what Hatshepust might have thought or how she felt. But of course we can't know the answers to these questions as the records simply do not exist. So the author makes assumptions of what the thoughts and feelings of Hatshepsut may have been.
I think it is important to learn about Hatshepsut. As the author puts it:
The challenges Hatshepsut faced and the sacrifices she made are familiar to powerful women of the twenty-first century: balancing the personal and the political, overcoming stereotypes of hysterical and unbalanced femininity, and making compromises never asked of powerful men. For Hatshepsut, her unprecedented success was rewarded with a short memory, while the failures of other female leaders from antiquity will be forever immortalised in our cultural consciousness.
However with all the speculation and guessing in this book I can't help but feel there may be a better way of learning about Hatshepsut.
I got this book through First Reads a couple weeks ago. My interest in Egyptology is superficial at best, but the idea intrigued me enough to enter, and now I'm glad I did. Cooney presents a narrative of King Hatshepsut, a woman who ruled Egypt centuries before Cleopatra and who did so peacefully, effectively, and without exploiting her own sexuality.
As with any study of ancient peoples, a lot of this book is well-defended conjecture, and I can't help wondering if this is the five blind men and the elephant situation. Even if it is, the story Cooney weaves teaches us a lot about our own civilization and how we view people in power. When Hatshepsut's story was initially uncovered, Egyptologists wrote a narrative of an unattractively ambitious woman who stole a throne that did not belong to her and eventually got what she deserved.
Cooney, on the other hand, presents Hatshepsut's rise to power as a necessary, often well-received transition driven by her upbringing, abilities, and piety. She is open about what parts of the story are assumptions and hypotheses and presents volumes of research to support her ideas. The fact that our society had to evolve in order to even consider this idea is probably one of the most important aspects of this novel.
As a novice in Egyptian history, I still found it easy to read and engagingly written. I'd almost like to see it presented as an annotated novel rather than a historical text, but it's still interesting enough to keep turning the pages without fictitious elements. I would love it if it included a few pictures illustrating Hatshepsut's monuments and the evolution of her representation from princess to king, but I imagine the genre isn't quite popular enough for the cost of printing photos. That's what Google Images is for, right?
So for those with a strong interest in feminist history and/or Egyptology, this book is definitely a must read. Hatshepsut may not have the romantic appeal of a Cleopatra, but her pragmatism and skill make her a hero for the modern age as much as the ancient one.
When I was a little girl, my mom bought me a book about King Tutankhamen. It had beautiful glossy photos, and I was fascinated by the short life of the boy king...and the maybe-supernaturally shortened lives of the people who excavated his tomb and awakened the mummy's curse. From there sparked a love of ancient Egypt, peaking when I was absolutely nerdy enough at age 9 or so to write a letter to the editor to correct one of the Detroit papers when they ran an article that misidentified Osiris as a goddess. While my hardcore Egypt phase eventually faded, the Egyptian exhibit is still one of my favorite places at the Detroit Institute of Arts, and I'm always interested in reading more about it.
Quick, name me an Egyptian queen. I'm guessing that for most of you, Cleopatra crossed your mind. Maybe some of you went for Nefertiti. But while Cleopatra is remembered for her dramatic life and death and Nefertiti is remembered for her beauty, the queen that had probably the most successful reign as the ruler of Egypt has been largely forgotten: Hatshepsut. Like most Egyptian queens, she was initially married to her brother, Thutmose II. But he was sickly, and when he died when she was only about 16, she successfully finagled a role as regent for her toddler stepson/nephew, Thutmose III, and from there, had herself crowned king in her own right alongside him. In The Woman Who Would Be King, author Kara Cooney walks us through how Hatshepsut pulled off this highly unusual feat by using the authority and power she'd acquired through her religious role, surrounding herself with the right advisors, and emphasizing her own royal lineage. During her reign, she embarked on an ambitious temple building program throughout her country and maintained her country's security while continuing to subjugate its vassal states. Her gender was, of course, the elephant in the room, and Cooney describes how Hatshepsut's depiction of her own gender in statuary shifted over time, from frank acknowledgement of her femininity near the beginning (when she served as regent) to an entirely masculine presentation as her co-ruler grew up and became a man himself. She goes on to detail what became of Hatshepsut's legacy after she passed and how Thutmose III initially embraced but ultimately rejected reminders of her rule, having artistic depictions of her altered or destroyed to erase to her from the record as much as possible.
Cooney is an actual Egyptologist, and it shows: she presents tons of information about ancient Egyptian social, religious, and royal life in the context of spinning Hatshepsut's story. She must be a good teacher in her day job as a college professor...the information she gives us is detailed but not dull; it doesn't feel like reading a reference text. For as much as we do know details about ancient Egyptian society, it's amazing to me how much we don't know at the same time...Cooney's writing, as well-researched as it is, is peppered with “probably” and “might have”, because there is just no way to know for sure. I'll admit I found this same quality irritating in Stacy Schiff's Cleopatra: A Life, but maybe that's just because I'm relatively accustomed to reading about Cleopatra in the context of historical fiction. I've never read about Hatshepsut before, so I don't have the same kind of expectations about being told a fleshed-out story. Also, Cooney makes it very clear, repeatedly, that the kind of records that would lead to a better story simply don't exist, because the Egyptians at that time kept written records only of the official version of events, with any sort of juicy personal interest tidbits left off entirely.
Cooney's writing is lively and interesting, and I think she does a good job of presenting the information in a way that makes you care about it...she doesn't just dump it out there without context, it's always clear that the things she's telling you about are necessary for an understanding of what happened. That being said, unless you're inclined to enjoy reading a factually-dense non-fiction book, you might find your attention wavering during some of the longer passages about religion or royal administration.