In a ruined temple along the Nile, Anthony Sattin sees a woman praying to the gods of ancient Egypt to bless her with a child. Or does he? Later that day, a policeman stops his taxi to ask to borrow a mobile phone to call his mother. The ancient rubs up against the modern just as dramatically as when Flaubert wrote, Egypt is a wonderful place for contrasts splendid things gleam in the dust. In the company of Sattin, a tireless and fearless researcher on the ground, impervious to discomfort, undaunted by pi-dogs and charlatans, we quarter the country in taxis and trains, rickety buses and jam-packed pick-up trucks. We follow him as he bribes his way into moonlit temples, as he tracks down snake hunters in their reptilian lairs and as he travels from the deserts of Luxor as far as the damp streets of Liverpool in search of long-lost manuscripts and modern magic that might help explain eternal myths. Half travel, half Golden Bough, The Pharaohs Shadow is set at the pace of a detective thriller, yet what ultimately sustains it is Sattins boundless love of Egypt.
