A Master of Djinn

“Dalton was obsessed with mummies—part of proving his theory that Egypt’s ancient rulers were truly flaxen-haired relatives to Anglo-Saxons, who held sway of the darker hordes of their realm.”

A curious point in history is that historians love to trace their lineage back to people they find admirable. Several English kings have found ways to trace their lineage back to the fictional Arthur. Geoffrey of Monmouth, a 12th-century historian, wrote that the origin of Britain came straight out of the descendants of Troy in Virgil’s Aeneid. Even the Prose Edda, one of the strongest sources for Norse mythology, traces the heritage of the Aesir gods back to Troy. Dalton’s attempt to whitewash al-Jahiz comes across as a similar historical agenda at best—and cultural appropriation at worst.

“More important, he was a he, which still held weight even in Cairo’s flaunted modernity—which explained the smile on his dark lips.”

Clark makes it clear from Fatma’s introduction that the novel will focus on themes of equality, justice, and, for the protagonist, sexism. Here, Fatma is sitting across from a young man, maybe 17 years old at most. Yet even in Cairo, which presents itself as a bastion of progressive ideas, the young man knows that being male lends him an advantage.

“My old setty used to tell me stories of djinn imprisoned in bottles being thrown into the sea—long before al-Jahiz brought them back into the world. She said fishermen would sometimes find them, and when they freed the djinn, it would grant their greatest desires. Wallahi! Three wishes, that could make you a king or the richest man in the world!”

Nowhere in One Thousand and One Nights does it mention that djinn grant three wishes. The wishes many of them do grant seem to be products of their own free will and usually entail unpleasant consequences.