Father's little helpers
Jenny Jobbins, The Emerald Tablet, Liverpool Books Online, 2003. pp242
Jenny Jobbins' The Emerald Tablet, vaguely reminiscent of J K Rowlings' Harry Potter, both exudes charm and induces a sense of perturbation. Both books feature magicians, and the adventures described in both The Emerald Tablet and Harry Potter revolve around the magical attributes of the main characters. But while the hero, Harry Potter, of Rowlings' hugely popular series is an adolescent schoolboy, the heroine in Jobbins' novel is a young Egyptian woman of Turkish extraction called Bahiga. What is more, Jobbins' book is a historical novel set in 11th-century Egypt, whereas Rowlings', of course, is a very British public-school affair. Like Rowlings, Jobbins is currently working on a sequel: "Don't be sad, Sanjar Mouseback," Bahiga tells her paramour at the end of the novel, "because some things about the future I can't help knowing, and I know this much: this is not the end for us. We have more battles to fight together, you and I."
However, despite these interesting parallels between the two authors and their books, do not expect the hero, or heroine, in The Emerald Tablet to hatch a dragon or score points while riding a broomstick. There is no Hogwarts School of Witchcraft nor Quidditch team camaraderie in The Emerald Tablet. But there is much sorcery and many strange and exciting adventures set in the most exotic venues. Bahiga, for example, transforms a poor old saqi, or water carrier, into an ass by summoning the powers of two princely jinn -- Oshpuroth and Osmoleus. "You are used to carrying heavy loads. I'll give you a choice: camel or donkey," she taunts him.
Jobbins' novel is peopled by chivalrous knights, autocratic rulers, ailing judges, cunning monks and beautiful women -- including ghoulish prostitutes. And, the supporting cast consists of a weird coterie of outlandish characters, including wretched rogues and ruffians, cripples, charlatans and monsters. But this first novel should be accompanied by a warning: do not expect a happy ending. For all their magical powers, the lead characters remain unfulfilled to the bitter end: no nuptial bliss, not even a rapturous kiss.
Like the typical heroes of much mediaeval epic and romance, Jobbins' hero Sanjar Mouseback is both courteous and courageous. He is also physically strong and a master of swordplay. His mother called him Mouseback to ward off the evil eye, and his horse, Moonleap, is such a beautiful and sure-footed creature that the reader cannot but fall in love with her. His sword, Moonflinger, is magical and lethal. Astride Moonleap, armed with Moonflinger, Sanjar plans to go far, as Aisha the geomancer tells him when casting her magical bones on the sand.
Power and determination, however, are nothing without control, and though many of the leading characters have impressive magical powers, real authority lies in the withered hands of Al-Hakim bi Amr Allah (985-1021), the eccentric Caliph of Fatimid Egypt and ruler in the novel. All the other characters in the book play second fiddle to him, and to him alone is reserved the right to command. Leading an ascetic lifestyle, he rejects pomp and ostentatious living. He hates women, Christians, Jews and dogs, not necessarily in that order.
Set in cosmopolitan mediaeval Cairo, the novel swiftly becomes entangled in tragedy. Arabs, Turks and Circassians are all relative newcomers to the city, and among them is the redoubtable Sanjar Mouseback. He is a stubborn fighter and a consummate pragmatist who befriends a humble Copt, a native-born Egyptian Christian. He cannot, however, come to terms with the physical strangeness of the country. For all his travels, "Sanjar had been to no place as alien as Egypt." But Sanjar is trustworthy because of his straightforward nature and his compassion for the poor -- the likes of the novel's penniless Tadros and dumb Rhoorogh.
Filling in any gaps in the reader's knowledge of 11th-century Fatimid Egypt, the author dwells in some detail on the mysterious Philosopher's Stone, or Emerald Tablet. She details the trickery of the monks who have tried to hide the ancient secrets held in the tablet, and she recounts the story of Alexander the Great who consulted the oracle at the Oasis of Amoun (Siwa), built a city on the Canopic branch of the Nile, and dreamed about the misadventures of the Persian King Cambyses who had conquered Egypt 200 years earlier and whose army had been lost in the wastes of Egypt's Western Desert.
The author has something of a penchant, in fact, for calling places by their ancient or mediaeval, as opposed to their modern, names. Mersa Matrouh therefore retains its old Arab name, Al-Batroum, derived from the Roman Paraetonium, while Suez is Kolzoum, and Siwa the Oasis of Amoun. She also amalgamates radically different traditions: pagan and Christian, Jewish and Muslim. "Tadros, the young Copt who is befriended by Sanjar, echoes the Mesopotamian mythological youth Tammuz," she says. He is also Osiris, or is it Horus? And the Greek Adonis. He also bears a faint resemblance to the Biblical Abel.
In Jobbins' accomplished novel, Alexander sends an army from Thebes to Carthage that also vanishes in the desert, perishing in a sandstorm south of Cyrenaeca. The story is not far- fetched, and in the novel the reader is led gently but firmly by the hand towards the Emerald Tablet in Zerzura, the Oasis of Amoun, and forlorn love.
Reviewed by Gamal Nkrumah
