Scroll of Saqqara: a Review

Different covers for Scroll of Saqqara, images of Khaemwaset, and Pauline Gedge

I've loved ancient Egypt for as long as I can remember. The theology, the magick, the sense that the universe runs on laws both visible and hidden. It shaped me as a reader and eventually as a writer. So when I say Pauline Gedge gets it right in The Scroll of Saqqara, I say that as someone who has spent years walking those sands in books, in imagination, and in real life.

So, what about this book?

Amazon sez

Prince Khaemwaset, son of Ramesses II and revered physician, longs for the forbidden—the Scroll of Thoth, a text said to grant the power to raise the dead. When a hidden tomb is discovered at Saqqara, he breaks its seal. . .and unleashes consequences he cannot control.

MM sez

There are more books in the world than I will ever read. Some are brilliant for a one time read. A rare few are worth returning to.

Scroll of Saqqara is one of those.

On this reread, I was pulled under in less than no time. The plot still surprises. The dread still tightens. And Gedge’s depiction of daily life in ancient Egypt—its medicine, priesthood, domestic rhythms, political tensions—feels so grounded you can smell the natron and desert wind.

One reviewer called it “Egyptian Gothic.” Yes. Absolutely. Tombs cracked open. Forbidden texts. The slow, suffocating consequences of hubris.

Another calls it a must-read for lovers of ancient Egypt. Also true. But I would go further:

This is the Book of Job, reborn in the 19th Dynasty.

Khaemwaset is not a cartoon villain chasing immortality. He is intelligent. Devoted. Compassionate. A healer. A man who believes knowledge is inherently good—and that he, of all people, is disciplined enough to wield it.

That is precisely why his fall hurts.

Gedge doesn’t merely write about ancient Egypt; she writes from inside it. The theology is not decorative. The magic is not glitter. The gods are not metaphors. When boundaries are crossed, the universe responds.

And it responds thoroughly.

Why I Reread It

Two reasons.

First, I researched the infamous Book of Thoth for my novel, Queen of Heka. The legendary text—associated with forbidden wisdom, cosmic order, and catastrophic consequences—has haunted Egyptian lore for millennia. Gedge’s fictional treatment remains one of the most psychologically compelling versions I’ve encountered.

Second, Khaemwaset and the Book play an important role in my second Egyptian novel, Reeds of Time.

When you’re writing in that mythic current, you go back to the masters. You remind yourself what earned terror feels like. What reverence feels like. What happens when a story takes its gods seriously.

Gedge does.

If you love:

• morally complex protagonists

• theology with teeth

• historical fiction that respects both scholarship and story

• and the particular chill of a tomb that should have remained sealed

Then this one belongs on your shelf.

Or, perhaps more accurately, on your to-be-reread pile.