Reviews
"Did people go around talking about suffering from "depression" in the Cairo of 1910? I would have thought that "melancholia" would have been the complaint of choice. But Michael Pearce is so precise about all the other period details in his rich and sardonic series about Capt. Gareth Owen, the British head of Egypt's political police, that he's probably right about this one too. Another worthy rescue effort, this time by Poisoned Pen Press, brings us this adventure of the mamur zapt (Owen's official Egyptian title) originally published in England in 1993. It's a complicated tale about official corruption, financial scandal and a sagging economy--all of which some people blame on the legendary Camel of Destruction, an apocalyptic beast that periodically runs amok and destroys everybody's tent. Does George W. Bush know about this?" -Chicago Tribune, "When Gareth Cadwallader Owen, the Mamur Zapt of colonial Cairo, reaches into his in-box and pulls out the Widow Shawquat's petition that her husband's property be passed on to her son instead of to the distant relative who wants to sell the land out from under them, Owen politely tries to fend her off. He's more concerned with making sense of the suicide of Osman Fingari, a minor functionary in the Department of Agriculture, who swallowed most of a bottle of prussic acid at his desk. Was his job so stressful? No one seems to know exactly what his responsibilities were, or why he was transferred to Agriculture from the Ministry of Public Works, where he registered changes of land use. Could his problems have involved cotton, Egypt's principal export? Owen's investigation leads him to the conflicting but equally devious schemes of the Khedivial Agricultural Society, the Agricultural Board, and foreign investment bankers. Fingari was apparently being squeezed by all of them, and also by his nefarious old school chum Jabir, who needed certain land usages renegotiated (cue the return of the Widow Shawquat). To unravel the byzantine financial and commercial interests of all concerned, Owen must rely on some deft maneuvering by a local pasha, as well as his barber. Rife with subterfuge, political intrigue, and state-of-the-art business chicanery, circa 1910, with dozens of sly asides and a glimpse of Egypt so pungent you can almost smell the camel dung." —Kirkus Reviews (July 1, 2002), ""When Gareth Cadwallader Owen, the Mamur Zapt of colonial Cairo, reaches into his in-box and pulls out the Widow Shawquat's petition that her husband's property be passed on to her son instead of to the distant relative who wants to sell the land out from under them, Owen politely tries to fend her off. He's more concerned with making sense of the suicide of Osman Fingari, a minor functionary in the Department of Agriculture, who swallowed most of a bottle of prussic acid at his desk. Was his job so stressful? No one seems to know exactly what his responsibilities were, or why he was transferred to Agriculture from the Ministry of Public Works, where he registered changes of land use. Could his problems have involved cotton, Egypt's principal export? Owen's investigation leads him to the conflicting but equally devious schemes of the Khedivial Agricultural Society, the Agricultural Board, and foreign investment bankers. Fingari was apparently being squeezed by all of them, and also by his nefarious old school chum Jabir, who needed certain land usages renegotiated (cue the return of the Widow Shawquat). To unravel the byzantine financial and commercial interests of all concerned, Owen must rely on some deft maneuvering by a local pasha, as well as his barber. Rife with subterfuge, political intrigue, and state-of-the-art business chicanery, circa 1910, with dozens of sly asides and a glimpse of Egypt so pungent you can almost smell the camel dung."" Kirkus Reviews (July 1, 2002), "Civilized stuff and exceedingly funny, with a plot that flexes its coils as innocently as an asp... Sheer delight." -Literary Review"This series continues to be the most delightful in current detective fiction." -Scotsman, "When Gareth Cadwallader Owen, the Mamur Zapt of colonial Cairo, reaches into his in-box and pulls out the Widow Shawquat's petition that her husband's property be passed on to her son instead of to the distant relative who wants to sell the land out from under them, Owen politely tries to fend her off. He's more concerned with making sense of the suicide of Osman Fingari, a minor functionary in the Department of Agriculture, who swallowed most of a bottle of prussic acid at his desk. Was his job so stressful? No one seems to know exactly what his responsibilities were, or why he was transferred to Agriculture from the Ministry of Public Works, where he registered changes of land use. Could his problems have involved cotton, Egypt's principal export? Owen's investigation leads him to the conflicting but equally devious schemes of the Khedivial Agricultural Society, the Agricultural Board, and foreign investment bankers. Fingari was apparently being squeezed by all of them, and also by his nefarious old school chum Jabir, who needed certain land usages renegotiated (cue the return of the Widow Shawquat). To unravel the byzantine financial and commercial interests of all concerned, Owen must rely on some deft maneuvering by a local pasha, as well as his barber.Rife with subterfuge, political intrigue, and state-of-the-art business chicanery, circa 1910, with dozens of sly asides and a glimpse of Egypt so pungent you can almost smell the camel dung."Kirkus Reviews (July 1, 2002), "Civilized stuff and exceedingly funny, with a plot that flexes its coils as innocently as an asp... Sheer delight." -Literary Review "This series continues to be the most delightful in current detective fiction." -Scotsman, "Set in 1910 Cairo, the latest in Pearce's Mamur Zapt series delivers a sparkling treasure for the discerning reader. The story focuses less on its murder plot and more on the cast of amusingly depicted characters: endearing scoundrels, bungling bureaucrats, vociferous women, precocious street urchins, and cunning con men. The suicide of a senior civil servant seems like an open-and-shut case. Osman Fingari was under extreme pressure from his job, and he'd even taken to drinking heavily at lunch with his "new best friends." Colleagues from the Khedival Agricultural Society. But to Gareth Owen, Mamur Zapt (Chief Investigator) of Cairo, things just don't add up. Owen is certain Fingari was murdered, and he's determined to find out whodunit, which means negotiating the notoriously corrupt bureaucracy of Edwardian Cairo. Willing to offend government ministers and upset long-established customs, the Mamur Zapt shakes the case in his tenacious teeth until the truth drops out. Delightful, charming, and completely engaging." –Booklist (July 2002), "When Gareth Cadwallader Owen, the Mamur Zapt of colonial Cairo, reaches into his in-box and pulls out the Widow Shawquat's petition that her husband's property be passed on to her son instead of to the distant relative who wants to sell the land out from under them, Owen politely tries to fend her off. He's more concerned with making sense of the suicide of Osman Fingari, a minor functionary in the Department of Agriculture, who swallowed most of a bottle of prussic acid at his desk. Was his job so stressful? No one seems to know exactly what his responsibilities were, or why he was transferred to Agriculture from the Ministry of Public Works, where he registered changes of land use. Could his problems have involved cotton, Egypt's principal export? Owen's investigation leads him to the conflicting but equally devious schemes of the Khedivial Agricultural Society, the Agricultural Board, and foreign investment bankers. Fingari was apparently being squeezed by all of them, and also by his nefarious old school chum Jabir, who needed certain land usages renegotiated (cue the return of the Widow Shawquat). To unravel the byzantine financial and commercial interests of all concerned, Owen must rely on some deft maneuvering by a local pasha, as well as his barber. Rife with subterfuge, political intrigue, and state-of-the-art business chicanery, circa 1910, with dozens of sly asides and a glimpse of Egypt so pungent you can almost smell the camel dung." Kirkus Reviews (July 1, 2002), "Did people go around talking about suffering from "depression" in the Cairo of 1910? I would have thought that "melancholia" would have been the complaint of choice. But Michael Pearce is so precise about all the other period details in his rich and sardonic series about Capt. Gareth Owen, the British head of Egypt's political police, that he's probably right about this one too.Another worthy rescue effort, this time by Poisoned Pen Press, brings us this adventure of the mamur zapt (Owen's official Egyptian title) originally published in England in 1993. It's a complicated tale about official corruption, financial scandal and a sagging economy--all of which some people blame on the legendary Camel of Destruction, an apocalyptic beast that periodically runs amok and destroys everybody's tent. Does George W. Bush know about this?" -Chicago Tribune
