The Dead Sea Cipher (1970)
Listening: Let It Be
When Dinah van der Lyn agrees to take a trip through Palestine and Israel in the place of her wheelchair-bound, Biblical scholar father, she thinks it's just a nice prelude to her first operatic role in Germany. But then a scream rends the night at her hotel, and she seems to be the only to have heard it. And when a smooth-talking spy and a fierce archaeologist start dogging her footsteps, it becomes obvious she's become part of something much bigger than a mere tourist trip through the Holy Land. International espionage sweeps her forward on an irresistible tide of romance and adventure to the wadis of the Dead Sea.
Cipher is a wild look at the Middle East in the early seventies. It's almost unrecognizable, with its pristine, lovely Beirut. Even so, the political tensions are obvious--Dinah is half-Jewish, and the wariness with which this is greeted by rank-and-file Palestinians is revealing. I won't argue that the complexities of the situation are perfectly touched on here...but they are touched on at least, with an added awareness of the evils of what western imperialism has wrought in the area.
I argue that a lot of MPM's heroes are just early versions of the Amelia Peabody's Emerson, and nowhere is this more obvious than here. Jeff Smith is large and unsubtle and dedicated to archaeology, deeply aware of what is owed to the abused locals, with disreputable friends in every corner of the two countries. He's mostly comic relief at first glance, but his forthrightness and un-flamboyant heroism have an appealing flavor.
Dinah is...well. She has that typical, early-MPM disdain for hippies, the Beatles, and short skirts, despite being a twenty-something young woman in the seventies. Frankly, the idea of anyone finding the Beatles grating astonishes me, but since she does soften in the end towards "Let It Be," I've made it this review's listening.
The academic adventure here centers around following the clues left by a murdered fringe-scholar to a lost gospel--a text much like the Dead Sea Scrolls. However, its contents might threaten the fragile status quo of the Middle East, leading to a race with the top spies of the world. In that, its becoming a standard Elizabeth Peters work--a little romance, a little mystery, a little spy thriller, a little tour guide. As such, it's part of a fine tradition.
Favorite Line: "'Is that the maid?' Dinah called. She had not stirred from the bed.
A falsetto murmur answered.
'Try being the waiter next time,' Dinah suggested loudly. 'The voice range is more appropriate'
'Damn it,' said Mr. Smith.
Rating: ***
I argue that a lot of MPM's heroes are just early versions of the Amelia Peabody's Emerson, and nowhere is this more obvious than here. Jeff Smith is large and unsubtle and dedicated to archaeology, deeply aware of what is owed to the abused locals, with disreputable friends in every corner of the two countries. He's mostly comic relief at first glance, but his forthrightness and un-flamboyant heroism have an appealing flavor.
Dinah is...well. She has that typical, early-MPM disdain for hippies, the Beatles, and short skirts, despite being a twenty-something young woman in the seventies. Frankly, the idea of anyone finding the Beatles grating astonishes me, but since she does soften in the end towards "Let It Be," I've made it this review's listening.
The academic adventure here centers around following the clues left by a murdered fringe-scholar to a lost gospel--a text much like the Dead Sea Scrolls. However, its contents might threaten the fragile status quo of the Middle East, leading to a race with the top spies of the world. In that, its becoming a standard Elizabeth Peters work--a little romance, a little mystery, a little spy thriller, a little tour guide. As such, it's part of a fine tradition.
Favorite Line: "'Is that the maid?' Dinah called. She had not stirred from the bed.
A falsetto murmur answered.
'Try being the waiter next time,' Dinah suggested loudly. 'The voice range is more appropriate'
'Damn it,' said Mr. Smith.
Rating: ***
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