Ann Macy Roth (Africa Access Review)
Pharaoh's Daughter" is a well-researched and defensible re-telling of the Biblical story of the Exodus. The author has clearly done a good deal of research, particularly on the Biblical tradition. His reading in Egyptology has been less thorough (Budge, whom he cites as a source of his translation of the hymn to Osiris, is decades out of date), but the mistakes he has made, though annoying to an Egyptologist, are not of any great moment. (He has for some reason called Egypt "Khemet" rather than "Kemet," as the Egyptians did; and for Moses's Egyptian name, he has used the Greek form Tuthmosis rather than the Egyptian form Djehuty-mes, or the standard Egyptological form Thutmose.) Although much of Egyptian culture is accurately portrayed, some of the details would be hard to substantiate: high-ranking women did dance and sing for gods and goddesses, though not in the nude; adoption was known, but it was not particularly shameful for a woman to be childless; and although people from all classes were sometimes educated along with the royal family members, they were not given equal rank with them, as seems to happen in the novel. Basically, however, the author gives a good idea of what ancient Egypt may have been like and makes several important points about Egyptian culture. The description of Egyptians volunteering to work on the pharaoh's temples may be a bit exaggerated, but it does capture the degree to which the construction of these monuments was viewed as an important social responsibility. The importance of names is well-illustrated, and the descriptions of palaces and temples are quite accurate, as far as we know. The concepts of ma'at and isfet are well-explained and realistically cited as motivations by the characters. In its plot, however, the book seems to me remarkably schizophrenic. Lester states in his Author's note at the end of the novel that he wanted to show that the Egyptians were not necessarily the bad guys. This is a laudable aim, and it is true that the negative Biblical account is a major problem with most of the books about ancient Egypt that center on the Exodus story. However, Lester is attempting to keep his story faithful to the Biblical account as well, and in that account, the Egyptians definitely ARE the bad guys. This conflict in the sources results in some troubling dissonances: the young noblemen responsible for the slaughter of the innocents and the enslavement of the Hebrews is given a plausible reason for his obedience to the pharaoh's orders, which makes it rather a shock when Mosis kills him. In a Biblical context, where the most horrifying murders happen all the time, this murder does not seem disproportionately heinous; but in Lester's book, the young nobleman has been Mosis's mentor, and Egyptian society is described (inaccurately) as one where "we do not have murders." Mosis does not come off as a very admirable character. Another dissonance is the picture of the tolerant pharaoh of the closing chapter as compared with the Biblical pharaoh whose heart has been hardened by God. It was perhaps wise of the author to stop the story when he does (with Mosis's arrival in Midian), but anyone familiar with the Biblical text will find it hard to imagine how the story could play out to its Biblical ends. Will kindly old Ramesses still protect Almah from his evil wife Asetnofret when Mosis has loosed the locusts and killed all the first-born sons? Lester uses the displaced children in his novel, Almah and Mosis, to explore the question of whether ancestry and heritage should determine a person's religious belief. This is an interesting question and it is provocative that each child seems to find a different answer--Mosis's decision is, in many ways, made for him, but presumably he becomes firmer in his convictions with time. But the problem is not likely to have been one that bothered the Egyptians, who were endlessly tolerant of non-Egyptian religions. (The Egyptians' demand in the book that the children show loyalty to individual gods seems highly unlikely.) Perhaps the author's own conversion to Judaism leads him to believe that each person must find the religion that makes him happiest. This may be a good lesson, but it is not really a very Egyptian one. There is little allusion to race or appearance in the book though the Hebrew girl Almah is said to look just like Egypt's most beautiful queen. (Some might find this disconcerting but, in fact, given the melting-pot of Nineteenth Dynasty Egypt, this is not particularly improbable.) Ethnicity is much more important, and is assumed to be unquestionable, while religious affiliations are more mutable. In sum, although this book is far from being the best children's novel about ancient Egypt and some may find it superficial and unconvincing, it is a well-researched and defensible re-telling of the first part of the Biblical story of the Exodus. Copyright 2001 by H-Net, all rights reserved. H-Net permits the redistribution and reprinting of this work for nonprofit, educational purposes, with full and accurate attribution to the author, web location, date of publication, originating list, and H-Net: Humanities & Social Sciences Online. For other uses contact the Reviews editorial staff: hbooks@mail.h-net.msu.edu. Rating: R -- Recommended. 2000, Silver Whistle / Harcourt, 128 pp., $17. Ages 11 to 18.

Ilene Cooper (Booklist, April 1, 2000 (Vol. 96, No. 15))
Lester, who has very successfully turned biblical tales inside out, now retells the story of the young Moses and the sister who saved him. Here, the sister is not Miriam, but an older sister, Almah, who has an affinity for things Egyptian. When the pharaoh's daughter, Batya, takes Moses as Hebrew boys are being killed, Almah is pleased to find she is going along to the palace. The tension between the Hebrew god, Ya, and the deities of Egypt is the story's underlying theme, but it is personalized by the spiritual struggles of Almah and Moses, both of whom tell the story. Almah chooses to be absorbed into the pharaoh's court, becoming a priestess who dances naked at public ceremonies. Moses, brought up as a grandson to the pharaoh, is caught between his Egyptian upbringing and his Hebrew heritage, and must eventually decide which deserves his allegiance. Lester writes with verve and obvious pleasure at surrounding his characters with the grandeur of Egypt, a civilization for which, as he notes in an afterword, he has always felt an affinity. Some of the religious posturing may be lost on the audience, but readers will respond to the strong cast of characters who struggle with life-and-death issues, physical and philosophical. Category: Older Readers. 2000, Harcourt/Silver Whistle, $17. Gr. 6-9.

Judy Chernak (Children's Literature)
Be prepared for an adventure, for sinking into this book is a far different experience than reading the Biblical story of the princess who pulled from the bulrushes a basket containing the baby she named Mosheh, Moses. Nor is it much like the famous movie starring Charlton Heston and Yul Brynner; nor like the current video, The Prince of Egypt. Rather, this novel introduces a complex tale of identity, personal knowledge, privilege and risk told through the voices of Mosis (the author's decision as a more authentic spelling of the name) and his sister. And the sister turns out to be not the Miriam with whom we are all familiar, the one who took her timbrel and sang and danced with the women of Israel after the Exodus at the "Red" Sea, or Sea of Reeds. This older sister, Almah, (Hebrew--a young woman of marriageable age) is the one sent by the princess (later named Batya, daughter of God, by our sages) to find the baby's mother and bring her to the palace to nurse the infant. In the twists of the novel, Almah and Batya are two distinct personalities who later change places--the young Hebrew maiden assumes her true identity as an Egyptian priestess, while Pharoah's daughter joins the Habiru slaves. Swirling throughout all is the identity crisis of the baby, the prince, who knows his origins but loathes the thought of rejoining a people of lowly status when he so loves the luxury of palace life and doesn't know how this dilemma will be resolved. Newbery Honor Recipient Julius Lester, himself a Jew by choice, writes believably about souls who seem to be born to places from which they must move on in order to be who they are. His own personal affinity for ancient Egypt, which is shared in the end Author's Note, drove him to study and transmit intriguing details into his book. It's a super read and a real mind-bender and includes some sensual nudity and ritual which, while common in ancient Egypt, should be a caution for readers younger than twelve. 2000, Silver Whistle/Harcourt, $17.00. Ages 12 up.

Claire Rosser (KLIATT Review, May 2000 (Vol. 34, No. 3))
Lester is an award-winning author for YAs who is a professor at the University of Massachusetts; among other subjects, he teaches Judaic Studies. So, it is with great personal interest and scholarship that he retells this ancient story of Moses in the bulrushes. His own curiosity led him to wonder about the character of the Egyptian daughter of Pharaoh who adopted Moses; he also examines the Hebrew in the Torah once again and explains that the sister of Moses guarding the baby was not named in the passage, although Miriam is a sister of Moses identified elsewhere. Lester asks, "Could there be another sister of Moses?" This sister, Almad, is the main narrator in Lester's story. It is she who describes the family's first contacts with the royal family, namely the princess Meryetamun, who becomes more and more drawn to Moses' family and to the Hebrew God, Ya, as the years go by. In contrast, Moses' sister Almad feels much more spiritually attuned to the Egyptian deities, especially the goddesses, and eventually becomes a priestess with a special relationship to the pharaoh, Ramses. Moses, growing from an infant to a 15-year-old in this story, reflects the identity crisis played out in his own family, both his biological family and his adopted one. Moses doesn't know whether he is Hebrew or Egyptian, nor does he know which gods he wants to worship. His murder of the Egyptian becomes the catalyst in this dramatic story that forces all the characters to commit to one side of the conflict or the other. There is nothing simplistic about this complicated narrative. Based on years of research and personal interest, Lester has carefully reconstructed Egyptian palace life, the work of the Hebrews and their position in Egypt, and both groups' religious practices and beliefs. The format of the narrative requires some attention: the prologue is at the time of the murder; Part One is Almad's tale of how she and Moses got to the palace 15 years before; Part Two is Moses' story as a 15-year-old, culminating in the description of the murder; an Epilogue is narrated by Almad some time after Moses' escape. Students with an interest in Ancient Egypt and/or Jewish history will be fascinated by Lester's story. As he explains in his introduction and later in the Author's Note, this is a story he worked on for many years, drawn to the dilemmas of the characters searching for their own identities, just as he has done over his lifetime: leaving his Methodist childhood to convert to Judaism; being an African American in a predominantly white culture. He provides a helpful glossary and bibliography. KLIATT Codes: JS*--Exceptional book, recommended for junior and senior high school students. 2000, Harcourt/Silver Whistle, 182p, bibliog, 99-6403, $17.00. Ages 13 to 18.

Janice M. Del Negro (The Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books, May 2000 (Vol. 53, No. 9))
Lester pushes the Biblical envelope with this fictionalized account of the story of Almah, devoted sister of Mosis, who finds her calling as priestess in dedication to the Egyptian gods. Almah witnesses the pharaoh’s daughter Meryetamun’s finding of the baby Mosis in the reeds, where he has been hidden from the soldiers slaughtering Hebrew babies. Meryetamun takes the baby to the palace, accompanied by Almah and her mother. At the court of the pharaoh, Almah embraces Egyptian ways, dedicating herself fervently to the Egyptian gods. Almah narrates Part One, flashing back to her arrival at the palace to help care for Mosis, her being adopted by the pharaoh because of her resemblance to his beloved dead queen, and her recognition of her calling as an Egyptian priestess. Part Two is narrated by Mosis, who relates his upbringing in the palace, his confusion about his place in life, and his desperate flight after killing an Egyptian. Lester’s two main characters are seeking their spiritual path, but they are not the only ones; secondary characters seek their way as well, making this not just an imaginative piece of historical fiction but an intriguing look at the human need for spirituality. Almah is complex and fully realized, her personality jelling at her recognition that she is more Egyptian than Hebrew; Mosis’ character is harder to grasp, as he is nebulous even to himself. Historical information blends unobtrusively with the action, and Lester includes an introduction, an author’s note, and a bibliography. More than the story of the babe in the bulrushes, this is the story of two disparate individuals on a personal quest for the divine. In the end Almah knows her path; Mosis must still find his. Review Code: R -- Recommended. (c) Copyright 2000, The Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois. 2000, Silver Whistle/Harcourt, 182p, $17.00. Grades 7-10.

Virginia Schaefer Carroll (The Five Owls, May/June 2000 (Vol. 14, No. 5))
Julius Lester, author of more than twenty-five books for children and young adults, has described his approach to historical fiction as focusing on the human emotions of people who have had no voice: "History is not just facts and events," he wrote in the introduction to the thirtieth-anniversary re-issue of To Be a Slave, "history is also a pain in the heart, and we repeat history until we are able to make another's pain in the heart our own." This emphasis on the heart of a story, as well as Lester's penchant for using writing to articulate the voices of the dead, underlie the success of Pharoah's Daughter, the first book in an intended trilogy about the life of Moses. Recognizing that his work will vie with the cultural constructions of Moses portrayed in The Ten Commandments and The Prince of Egypt, Lester uses the Jewish tradition of midrash--exploring and extending sacred text through imagination--by crafting a detailed, personal story based on Exodus 2:8: "And the daughter of Pharaoh said to her, 'Go,' and the young girl of marriageable age went and called the mother of the child." The prologue sets a stage that shatters any expectation of Charlton Heston raising his staff to part the Red Sea: Mosis (spelled as a shortened form of Tuthmosis) is a fifteen-year-old in trouble, his sister, and a woman identified as Batya are trying to understand and help him. The central crises one expects to find in young adult novels--identity, family relationships, uncertainty about the future, puberty, clarification of beliefs and values--are worked into the tapestry of this story as naturally as are the details about ancient Egypt, the gods Ya and Amon-Re, the long-standing animosity and confusion between the Khemetians and Habiru people. The first part of the novel is narrated by Mosis' older sister, Almah, when she is twelve years old. Her story moves from her life as a Habiru in Goshen to her acceptance as a pharaoh's daughter in Pi-Ramesses, a transition that involves not only a movement away from her family but a significant religious conversion. The second part of the novel is narrated by Mosis himself as a teenager, telling of his life as the adopted grandson of the Khemetian pharaoh, Ramesses. Much of his story, like Almah's, examines the questions of identity that arise from his straddling two different cultures. The novel ends with Mosis in exile, Almah--now a priestess and confidante of the pharaoh--mourning his absence but relieved to know that he is safe. In telling this story, Lester successfully wrestles with two difficult issues in writing for children: how does one tell the story of another culture to children, and how might one tell a story about faith to child readers from many cultures. It is here that Lester beautifully relies on both his personal and professional identities. As a scholar--he is a distinguished professor of Near Eastern and Judaic Studies at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst--Lester is careful to research his subject thoroughly, assuring that even the invented conversations are consistent with the time period. Since the ancient Egyptians had no concept of time briefer than an hour, Lester explains in his Author's Note, he was careful not to include phrases such as, "just a minute." Lester seems to trust his own experiences as a person, however, in resolving the difficult question of writing about religious belief. The son of a Methodist minister, Lester was a political activist in the 1960s who converted to Judaism in 1982. In the introduction to Pharaoh's Daughter, he explains that "writing this novel became another journey into understanding who I was as I made the transition from my fifties and into my sixties," another lesson about having "the courage to be who you are." A twenty-first-century man can write about the identity crises of Almah and Mosis because he understands the heart of their stories: issues of faith are complex, the history of two peoples multi-layered, the answer "I don't know" often the best response one can muster. The story works because the writer presents the ka as well as the factual history of his subject, because he respects and is fascinated by the human dimension of the historical figures that may seem as flat and undecipherable to us as hieroglyphs. Even readers who know the sacred texts cannot read this book without waiting for the next, without feeling the pain of Almah's heart as she wonders what will happen to Mosis. 2000, Silver Whistle/Harcourt, $17.00. Ages 12 up.

Horn Book (The Horn Book Guide, Fall 2000)
This is the story of Moses and of the Hebrews in Egypt during the reign of Ramesses II, but in Lester's telling, history has been humanized, icons made flesh. Through a stunning blend of imagination and research, readers are transported into ancient Egypt, vividly evoked through a narrative that seems to reflect ancient discourse without sounding artificial. Bib., glos. Category: Intermediate Fiction. 2000, Harcourt/Silver Whistle, 182pp, $17.00. Ages 9 to 12. Rating: 2: Superior, well above average.

Marge Wood (The Lorgnette - Heart of Texas Reviews (Vol. 13, No. 3))
This unusual novel based on the life and times around the biblical Moses, or Mosis as he is called by the author for reasons the readers will find as they read, is fascinating. The author, a convert from Christianity to Judaism, has developed a rich background for his characters. Readers must understand that this book is about fictional characters, not necessarily about the characters named in the Old Testament of the Bible. Mr. Lester, teacher of Judaic studies at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst, had the goal of making Moses a real character, believable to all readers, Jewish or otherwise. The conflict between the Hebrews (Habiru) and the Egyptians (Khemetians) is felt as an undercurrent and occasionally erupts, such as when the mother of Moses saves his life by imaginatively placing him where the Pharaoh's daughter will find him, and later when Mosis realizes that he is losing his place in the palace. Moses and his sister, the fictional one developed by Mr. Lester, are close to one another and to his adopted mother, the princess. The princess spends much time listening to Ima, Mosis's birth mother. The author's extensive research shows up all through the book. As long as the reader does not expect it to follow the Biblical text, it will be an interesting reading experience. Teachers who recommend it need to make that clear to students. Grades 1-12. 2000, Silver Whistle, 182p, $17.00. Ages 6 to 18.

Maura Bresnahan (VOYA, June 2000 (Vol. 23, No. 2))
Lester uses midrash, the Jewish tradition of exploring a text through one's imagination, in portraying the life of Mosis (Moses). The first half of the novel is told by Almah, the biological sister of Mosis who becomes the adopted daughter of the Pharaoh Ramesses. Almah recounts the events surrounding the placement of Mosis in the bulrushes and adoption by Princess Meryetamun, daughter of Ramesses. Almah becomes a privileged member of the court and ultimately forsakes her family's Hebraic beliefs to become an Egyptian priestess. Fifteen-year-old Mosis, who has spent nearly his entire life as a cherished member of the Pharaoh's family, then narrates the second half of the novel. Upheaval in the court results in Mosis' decision to defend "his people," who have been slave laborers for Ramesses. Forced to kill a high-ranking court advisor to protect Almah, Mosis escapes to the desert. Almah's voice returns in an epilogue that explains the court intrigue and current exile of Mosis. Lester has created a multilayered story with many wonderful characters. The parent-child difficulties seen in the relationships of Almah and her mother, Ima, and of Meryetamun and Pharaoh Ramesses add to the story's depth. Coming-of-age elements mix with mystery and history to create a compelling tale. Lester's attention to detail brings Egypt during the reign of Ramesses vividly to life with images of cobras, crocodiles, gods and goddesses, and slave labor. Readers might be challenged by the multiple roles of Almah, Meryetamun, and Ima, as well as by some of the Hebraic spellings. Lester's introduction states that the writing of Pharaoh's Daughter involved him "intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually" and that he became enthralled with ancient Egypt. Readers will become equally involved in and enthralled by this highly recommended title. VOYA CODES: 5Q 3P M J S (Hard to imagine it being any better written; Will appeal with pushing; Middle School, defined as grades 6 to 8; Junior High, defined as grades 7 to 9; Senior High, defined as grades 10 to 12). 2000, Silver Whistle/Harcourt, 192p, $17. Ages 11 to 18.