This is Elizabeth Peters‘s latest entry in the long-running Amelia Peabody series of Egyptological mysteries, and I’m not sure why I’m bothering to review it. If you’ve not run into Amelia Peabody ere now you’ve not been paying attention, and if you have you can draw your own conclusions.

Throughout the course of the series, it has been driven by two things: archaeological detail, and the delightful cast of characters: Amelia herself; her husband Emerson, the Father of Curses; their son Ramses and foster-daughter Nefret (an English girl, raised as the priestess of a Lost Civilization in a Hidden Oasis); Sethos, the Master Criminal; and many others.

Unfortunately, though I hate to say it, the last eight or ten books in the series have a painful sameness about them. The archaelogical detail has been largely nominal for same time; and the major characters have long since settled into comfortable grooves and rarely do anything unexpected. For a time the interest was sustained by the nascent romance between Ramses and Nefret–would this be the book in which they finally come to an understanding? (Peters dragged that story arc out for a deplorably long time.) But that was books ago, and though Peters has introduced new characters into the cast in each book in an attempt to keep things lively, there really isn’t room for them to standout amid all of the strong personalities which are already there.

If the writing were exceptionally wonderful, I might be inclined to forgive all of this; one could make a fair case that P.G. Wodehouse, for example, spent his career prolifically writing the same book over and over again. Peters’ writing is competent, but it’s not exceptional.

Peters made her mark by writing mysteries set in interesting places which contained a large dollop of romantic comedy; but I fear that these days she’s simply riding the gravy train. She’d do well to return to her roots.