I tend to read books which receive universal high praise much after the applause has faded. That way one is freed up from the obligation of joining the chorus. In keeping with that practice I have just begun reading Stacy Schiff’s biography ‘Cleopatra- A Life.’
I read the first 30 pages yesterday and feel compelled to report that it is unforgivably readable. Those pages are full of constructs that arrest you without reading you your rights. One such passage concerns the city of Alexandria and it goes: “A great metropolis, Alexandria was home to malicious wit, dubious morals, grand larceny. Its residents talked fast, in many languages and at once; theirs was an excitable city of short tempers and taut, vibrating minds.”
Or take this one: “The siren call of the East long predated Cleopatra, but no matter; she hailed from the intoxicating land of sex and excess. It is not difficult to understand why Caesar became history, Cleopatra a legend.”
From what I have read so far, Schiff writes as if she was Cleopatra’s contemporary, an approach fraught with colossal failure but somehow she pulls it off with rare ease. Schiff writes with such surefootedness as to make the reader feel that she was right on the heels of Cleopatra on the streets of Alexandria.
As someone engaged in writing three of my own books and ghosting two I know that the creative machine can come to an abrupt halt. It is from that standpoint that one marvels at any piece of seemingly effortless writing of the kind I am reading now. I am sure a great deal of exhausting work went into creating this book.
At the rate I am going, I think I will finish the book in a week. I will probably write a bigger piece later. For now all that I can say is that although I waited for the chorus of high praise to die down, I could not help but join it.
