Tomb Defenses are Lame

There can be no doubt that one of the oldest and most thrilling tropes in both the horror and action-adventure genres is the discovery of an ancient tomb.

The works of early Science Fiction, Horror, and Fantasy authors such as H.P. Lovecraft, and Robert E. Howard are chalk full of lost societies and forgotten burial grounds. As we move into the realms of Epic and High Fantasy we see the tradition cemented into all that would come after by Tolkien’s Barrow-Downs and (arguably) the Mines of Moria.

And of course we cannot discount the entire genre of archeologist-adventurer types which came out of stories like Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Lost World (1912), found fertile ground in the mystery genre with characters like Elizabeth Peter’s Amelia Peabody, before becoming — by way of successful film characters like Indiana Jones (ok MOSTLY Indiana Jones) — the more action heavy virtuous treasure seekers like Clive Cussler’s Sam and Remi Fargo (in video games, think Tomb Raider’s Lara Croft, and Uncharted‘s Nathan Drake).

Oh and we shouldn’t forget about Michael Chricton’s Easy Go. Because WTF.

In any case, the sheer number of stories listed above suggests there is something inevitably alluring about pushing aside a heavy stone, and dropping a torch or (heaven forbid) our only flashlight into the darkness to see what mysteries it might reveal.

But whether the treasure we seek is a better understanding of those who came before us, or the gleam of gold and the spark of bullets ricocheting off a conveniently placed stone sarcophagus, we know to test the ground in front of us lest it crumble and send us down into a pit of wooden spikes. Or avoid any suspicious looking floor tiles that might be pressure sensitive lest it trigger projectile wooden spikes. Always be on the look out for a switch or crack in the wall which might reveal a hidden passageway. But even then be cautious because behind said door and in said hidden chamber is probably just more wooden spikes.

And ALWAYS heed ANY WRITING on ANY WALL — ANYWHERE — lest it be a Curse of the Pharaohs.

I’m talking traps.

And while there is no shortage of imaginative and extremely ELABORATE traps in fiction (looking at you single-use boulder), it may be somewhat disappointing to find that real tomb defenses were somewhat more mundane.

It turns out, the best way to keep someone out of a tomb is to bury it deeper, under harder materials. Other common defenses included covering everything with mud which when hardened was nearly impregnable, placing tomb entrances up high where there would be significant danger in access, fake burial chambers and labyrinths of store rooms to search through, and more big stone slabs which would block the way.

I base these assertions on the defenses found in many tombs of an ancient civilization famed across the world for the richness of their culture, grandeur of their architecture, and the general mystery of their lives: the tombs of the Ancient Egyptian Pharaohs.

I know there are many other civilizations which went to great lengths to protect their dead (I included a cool ancient Mayan example at the end), but the Ancient Egyptians are — which should be no shock to any long-time readers — the defenses I’m most familiar with.

Let’s (ahem) dig in!

Early Dynastic and Old Kingdom ( – 2200 BCE)

It seems pretty standard across cultures to want to protect the deceased, and memorialize them in some way. Burying them within the ground at least keeps away larger scavengers like dogs or maybe birds.

I’m not sure how common it is across cultures to bury the deceased with gifts, but in Ancient Egypt it was thought that the dead should be buried with items they might need in the afterlife. I’m sure these things were probably quite practical and mundane in the early days, but as their civilization’s wealth grew, and the importance of the individual within that civilization grew, the items they were buried with became more and more extravagant.

As time went on, it became important to protect not only the person’s physical body, but the goods they would take with them.

It seems that in this way, the original ‘pyramids’ began to form as larger and larger mounds were being piled on top of burial sites. Perhaps the Ancient Egyptians reasoned that the more sand, rock, and dirt someone had to clear away to get to the deceased, the more difficult they would be to rob.

It’s also important to note that during these early days, a lot tombs did not quite have the triangular shape we’re familiar with but rather a kind of rectangular shape. These tombs are called mastabas and definitely interesting in their own right.

Ninetjer (~ 2740 BC)

Ninetjer was the 3rd ruler in Egypt’s 2nd dynasty. Some sources say he lead for 96 years, but it seems most likely that he ruled for 43 or 45 years (still an impressive run for the time period).

His tomb is not a mastaba, or a pyramid as we’d expect, but a ‘gallery tomb’ (specifically Gallery Tomb B) which seems to be just a series of passageways built under other tombs in the Saqqara necropolis.

When I say a series I mean 192 passageways. Can you imagine? Try finding the good loot in that labyrinth. Whether intentional or not, I think it’s a great example of complexity as a defense mechanism.

Djoser (sometime between 2686 BC and 2611 BC)

The exact dates of King Djoser’s reign seems to be disputed with enough potential periods to make it cumbersome to list, but it seems he’s generally thought of as the founder of Egypt’s 3rd Dynasty.

Renowned for his infamous ‘step pyramid’, Djoser’s tomb appears to have been a mastaba at first with subsequent layers added on later.

In terms of defense? We have really thick rock (25m), subterranean tunnels for folks to get lost in, and two nearly identical shafts leading into the depths of the pyramid. One was fake and filled with dirt, the other went down to the burial chamber which was surrounded by a granite vault and plugged with a stone seal from above.

Buried Pyramid (2645BC)

Our next example also comes from the 3rd Dynasty, specifically Sekhemkhet Djoserty, who ruled between 2648-2640 BC as the dynasty’s 2nd pharaoh. It is likely that this king was either the brother or potentially the eldest son of the aforementioned Djoser.

His tomb was never finished, but would have been a step pyramid like that of his earlier relation. Sekhemkhet only ranked 132 chambers for grave goods, built in a U shape around his burial chamber (the result looking something like a trident).

For defense we again rely on a massive stone blocking the entrance to the burial chamber. It seems he may have also had a ‘fake tomb’ built to the south to fool grave robbers but in an extra twist, someone was actually buried there, an unidentified two-year-old child.

Sekhemket seems to have never made it to his own grave, as when archaeologist Zakaria Goneim finally breached the blocked wall on May 31st 1954, and opened the lid of the alabaster sarcophagus on June 26 1954, the coffin was empty . . . (dun dun duuunnnn)

Brick Pyramid at Abu Rawash (~ 2575 BC):

The next tomb on our list is that of King Djedefre, the 3rd ruler in Egypt’s 4th Dynasty, and the son of the infamous Khufu, for which the Great Pyramid of Giza was built.

Djedefra ruled for a period of ten to fourteen years sometime around 2575 BC.

His tomb was referred to as “Djedefre’s Starry Sky” and was thought to have been “the most beautiful of pyramids, with an exterior of polished, imported granite, limestone and crowned with a large pyramidion.” (Pyramid of Djedefre – Wikipedia)

It is notable for being the northernmost pyramid in Egypt, and was probably around the same size as Menkaure’s pyramid, which is the third largest of the Giza Pyramids. Of course I say probably because it seems it was never finished, and what was completed, was mostly deconstructed during the Roman occupation of Egypt for use in their own building projects.

The tomb’s notable defenses included disconnecting the burial chamber from the grave good chambers and setting the entrance high up into the face of the pyramid with shaft sloping down into the center. Presumably it was quite dangerous to reach the entrance.

Bent Pyramid at Dashur (~ 2600 BC):

I’ve tried to keep the pyramids on this list in an order which shows increasing sophistication over time; however, such a linear progression does not appear to have existed in reality.

King Sneferu was the founding member of the 4th Dynasty, ruling sometime around 2600 BC (so before the aforementioned Djedefre by at least 25 years). He built three pyramids, two in Meidum (the Red and Meidum pyramids respectively), and one in Dashur.

This pyramid in Dashur is known as the ‘bent’ pyramid as the angle at which its slope ascends changes from 54 degrees to 43 degrees. It is seen by many archaeologists as a kind of transitional phase between the ‘step’ pyramids which came before, and the ‘true’ pyramids which came after.

In terms of defenses, it seems the Bent pyramid was more varied in its approach than the other tombs discussed so far. Like the earlier ‘buried’ pyramid of the 2nd dynasty, Sneferu’s tomb also attempted some trickery in order to fool looters and grave robbers.

The tomb has two entrances, both high up off the ground, requiring people to climb up to them. One is fake and leads below ground and then back up to some ledges about 1 meter above ground. The other goes directly to 1 meter above ground.

The main chamber is blocked by two portcullis systems in which large stone slabs slid in from the side. Red ochre and sand were used to “ward evil” and magically protect the tomb, while thick mud was poured over everything within the grave. When this mud hardened it became nearly impenetrable.

While these defenses seem quite formidable, it would seem that the Bent Pyramid did have one weakness which ultimately rendered them ineffective. The pyramid was built with soft rock which was vulnerable to tunneling.

Amenhotep III (1386 – 1349 or 1388 – 1351 BC)

King Amenhotep III is by far the most recent Egyptian ruler on our list. He reigned as part of the 18th Dynasty between 1386 – 1349 BC, or perhaps 1388 – 1351 BC depending on the source and was buried within the Valley of the Kings.

His time as Pharaoh is thought to be one of “. . . unprecedented prosperity and splendor, when Egypt reached the peak of its artistic and international power.” – Wikipedia: Amenhotep III

Of the tombs we’ve reviewed so far, his tomb (uninspiringly named WV 22) includes perhaps the most cinematic defenses yet.

The main passage of the tomb ended in a plainly adorned room with a collection of various treasures, but it was equipped with a false wall which hid a passage to the heart of the tomb. Protecting said false wall, was a hidden pit which dropped 6 meters (20 feet). Pharaoh is thought to have paid (in perpetuity) people living nearby to replace the false floor after it was activated by looters.

While replacing the false floor in a tomb is not particularly exciting, it isn’t hard to see how tropes like Ancient Order of Protectors or — which I’ve always thought a bit ridiculous — Religion of Evil might have evolved out of this history.

Ancient Maya: Tomb of the Red Queen

The final tomb in our list comes to us circa 600 – 700 AD and does not reside in Egypt, but in Palenque, Southern Mexico. It is the resting place of an ancient Mayan noblewoman. Her tomb was coated with Cinnabar, a naturally occurring neurotoxin . . . Yikes.

So What?

I’m not sure about you, but I’ve had a blast learning about and discussing eight very real tombs, and the very real defenses they used to keep looters and grave robbers away from their dead.

Even though the traps and snares outlined here may not be quite as dramatic as those we’ve seen in Hollywood or our favorite adventure novel (no wooden spikes), I feel they’re quite fascinating in their own right.

When writing my own fiction, I found myself wanting to honor these ‘lame’ defenses in any tomb raiding scenes I came up with and it has often been a unique challenge to do so. Ultimately, the temptation for spectacle was too great and once I did fall back on some of my favorite tropes (a pharaoh’s curse is just too good to pass up lol), but I’m glad I started here first, with the real history.

That’s all I have for you this week, thanks for reading such a long post. What was the most interesting defense we discussed? Were there any I missed that you think should have been on the list? What’s your favorite Hollywood or Adventure Novel trap?

Please leave your thoughts in the comment section. I can’t wait to hear your insights!

See you next time!

The Black God’s Drums: A Moment in Speculative Fiction

It would seem I’m becoming quite the P. Djeli Clark fan on this blog. I wrote in my review of The Book of Witches that “. . . this author just has my number. It seems like I’ll come out drooling no matter what he’s written.”

This has certainly been true for any of the books in his A Dead Djinn in Cairo series, but also for his more horror-focused works like Ring Shout.

Perhaps I wasn’t drooling at the end of The Black God’s Drums (I’ve been working really hard on that lol) but I can genuinely say I enjoyed this one quite a bit. Clark is becoming THEE Steampunk author in my mind, the one whose themes and tropes I will associate with the genre moving forward.

The Black God’s Drums, shares many elements of Clark’s other works, namely queer representation, richly detailed alternate history, and truly great cast of leading women.

Where I felt The Black God’s Drums stood apart from Clark’s canon, was its setting, and the prominence of Orisha gods and goddesses.

Focusing a bit more on the setting, I found that I could not wholly divorce Clark’s New Orleans from that of other short stories and novels I’ve read recently which took place in that (kinda weird but never dull) city.

Indeed, The Black God’s Drums felt as if it could have been happening right alongside N.K. Jemisin’s “The Effluent Engine”, which was published originally for a fundraiser in 2010 (A Story for Haiti), and then again in an anthology Steam-Powered: Lesbian Steampunk Stories (2011).

Effluent Engine was published twice more in 2018 — the same year as The Black God’s Drums debuted — once in Lightspeed Magazine, and finally in How Long Til Black Future Month (which is where I read it). This seems significant somehow and though this is pure conjecture and feels entirely too well conceived and executed, I would not be surprised if it had something to do with 2018 being New Orleans’s tricentennial.

Of course, The Ballad of Perilous Graves was never far from mind either and even though I didn’t pick out any shared elements (besides things that fly that “shouldn’t” (like boats or buses)), Clark’s novella certainly felt like it could have existed in Perilous Graves‘s history.

I felt this conversation (which might not have been intended at all; but also might have been) with other New Orleans based speculative fiction was a feature of the story, and not a bug. Much in the same way The Deep had a history which added significance and meaning to its existence beyond just the story within its pages, so too did The Black Gods Drums acquire a kind of place within the geography of speculative fiction (even if only in my own mind).

I also mentioned Orisha gods and goddesses earlier, and it would be a shame not to return to them now as they were also one of my favorite parts of the book. Because of their use and inclusion in the story, I think we might also be able to consider TBGD part of the Godpunk genre as well.

My previous experience with the Orisha pantheon, and Yoruba religion, stems mostly from books like David Mogo Godhunter, and the Nsibidi Scripts (Akata) series from Nnedi Okorafor.

I didn’t recognize Oya and Oshun from either of those books (although the Okorafor books I read a LONG time ago), so it was cool to encounter two new (to me) goddesses. Their appearance in a setting outside of Africa seemed noteworthy and if their actions in the story are anything to judge by, powerful and badass.

It’s worth mentioning that this book was nominated for a Hugo in 2019, against heavy hitters like Martha Well’s Artificial Condition, Seanan McGuire’s Beneath the Sugar Sky, and Binti: The Night Masquerade. Of the novellas I’ve read from that year, I probably would have chosen Binti, but Murderbot is also high on my list. While everything I’ve mentioned above means that The Black Gods Drums is an excellent story and well worth reading, it just didn’t quite reach the level of those other nominations for me.

Give This One Read?

Definitely. There is so much to consider in these scant 107 pages that I feel like my review is longer than the text itself. For me, Clark has proven himself to be THE Steampunk author, and this novella is a great addition to his canon. In many ways it resembles his other works, primarily in its themes of queer representation, detailed alternate history, and a great cast of female characters.

But it is also different. It’s setting in New Orleans connects it with other author’s works of the time, marking it as part of a moment in SFF. The use of the Orisha pantheon connects it still further with similar work, but also just ups the cool factor in general.

While I would not have awarded this one the Hugo myself, that doesn’t mean it isn’t still an incredible book. I hope to see Creeper and the captain in another steampunk New Orleans adventure soon!

That’s all I have for this week! What are your thoughts? Have you read this one before? Would you consider giving it a shot? What are your favorite P. Djeli Clark stories? Your fav Steam punk? Any other stories set in NOLA that I should read?

Can’t wait to read your thoughts in the comments.

Until next time!

Senlin Ascends: A Monument to Great Character Writing

I really loved this book.

There is so much within its pages that shines so brightly that it’s actually a bit hard to know where to begin.

In most books, the intricacy of the setting is what really draws me in. I love being immersed in a new world, and appreciating the time and effort an author has taken to get every little detail just right.

Of course Josiah Bancroft has displayed a phenomenal level of skill in building his ‘Tower of Babel’ but I found that it was not really the part of the book which kept me turning the pages.

What kept me coming back night after night, and what had me checking the clock at the end of each chapter to see if I had time to squeeze in just one more before I absolutely had to go to bed — what has me refreshing my amazon tracker to see how soon the sequel will arrive — is by far Bancroft’s characters.

Everyone in The Tower has an agenda. EVERYONE. Even the most inconsequential throw-away-I-just-need-a-body-here character is up to something, even if the reader doesn’t know what it is, which just makes everything feel more alive. There is a way in which I feel like this could easily sour, with loads of exposition being dumped here an there to set up the most trivial of encounters. Somehow this book avoids that.

I’m sure it will be worth my time as a writer to go back and study this further, but as a reader — and without a quote handy — my impression is that Bancroft is just super economical with his prose, able to paint whole lives in just a sentence or maybe two.

Of course Senlin’s ascension up the ‘Ringdoms’ of The Tower is somewhat episodic, with each new setting revealing an entire new world to explore. However, there are several recurring characters which tie what could be very disparate adventures back together.

What was most impressive to me about the inclusion of these recurring characters was just how much each had changed since their last appearance and what we could learn about them — what we could glean of their essence — from the differences between then an now.

Each of them has lived multitudes since their last appearance. In one way or another, each has lost innocence in some way, and each is holding a hope and a mystery close to their heart. I just wanted to spend a little more time with all of them.

Finally there is Senlin himself. A quote on the back cover of my copy from Fantasy Faction, reads: “The most unlikely yet likeable hero since a certain hobbit rushed out of Bag End leaving his second breakfast half-finished.”

There’s really not much more to say.

Senlin is an amazing protagonist because in most ways, he’s hardly amazing at all. He has no superpower other than and unending supply of hope, determination, and forgiveness. He simply refuses to see the world in the grim light which The Tower tries to cast it, mostly to his detriment, but ultimately to his triumph.

As Bancroft states in an interview published as an extra at the end of the book:

“Senlin is not a hero. He’s a human. Which means he’s a bit of an idiot. And he doesn’t really know himself, which is the cause of so much misfortune. He is slow to let go of his illusions because they’re so essential to him. When he encounters a problem, he proudly learns a lesson, but it’s often the wrong lesson. He rushes when he should linger, and he is patient when he should insist. He does learn, but slowly; he grows, but not in a straight line. Senlin’s strength, ultimately, is his adaptability. His education and his determination make him a capable chameleon. But otherwise, he’s a small man on a big adventure, which means he makes a lot of mistakes.”

Another quote from this interview which I love:

“When I’ve experienced setbacks, I don’t rise from the ashes with all the answers. I flail about. I fall over. I take a step back and fall over again. I think that developing strength and wisdom takes time and practice.”

These could be words to live by even outside the context of this novel, but I think they also really encapsulate what makes Senlin’s character so relatable and so compelling. He’s just a dude looking for his wife . . . and the dude don’t quit.

If there is one complaint I have about the book it’s that we never get any POVs of Marya. Not only do I think a few chapters from her perspective would have added to the complexity and richness of the story, but I think it would have helped steer the book away from its biggest pitfall which is its treatment of women.

Though its presumed that Marya is still alive throughout the story, ultimately, she’s a ‘refrigerator woman’ as much as any superheroes’ girlfriend, or 007 love interest.

We are teased with her memory here and there, but unfortunately she mostly reads like an object. Something for Senlin to chase after. And as the novel progresses, an ideal. Senlin does seem to struggle with this fact at several points in the novel which makes the book somewhat self-aware, but if the book is able to acknowledge this pitfall, why continue with it?

And if you’re not Marya, and are a woman in the tower, it seems that all that is left for you is prostitution. The two main arguments against this are Edith and Iren, who are both simply amazing, but in an action hero kind of way we typically associate with male heroes.

I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of these two characters in Arm of the Sphinx (the cover of which seems particularly symbolic of Edith), so I hope we get a little more nuance in their characters, and in general some female characters who are badass for other reasons then their skill with a weapon.

Give This One A Read

Wholeheartedly yes. Even with the complaints I had above, I still feel there is a great deal here to enjoy.

That’s all I have for this week! Let me know your thoughts? Has anyone read this one yet? Which Ringdom did you enjoy the most? Would you want to visit any?

Let me know in the comments. See you next time!

Getting Reinspired With Matt Bell’s ‘Refuse to Be Done’

According to my reading history on Goodreads, I did not read a single book about the craft of writing during 2023. I’m sort of amazed by this, but also feel it makes a good bit of sense. As mentioned in my 2023 wrap up post, last year was a bit of a sea change for me in terms of style and process.

I wrote mostly short fiction, and read significantly more short fiction than ever before, and I feel that with that came a kind of rebellion against how I had learned about writing previously, which was primarily through books about technique and structure.

In some ways, I believe I was testing myself and my process. Trying to see, after years of learning other people’s processes, what had stuck. Was I actually using any of this advice? Did these books make me a better writer?

In general, I found that the list of terms, techniques or exercises that I could recall from memory was relatively short and that while actually writing, I hardly referenced them at all. While reading other authors, I could recognize the moves in action, and sometimes I would notice them rereading my past work, but I was never sure whether I had employed them intentionally, for what reason, or how (if) I had known to do so.

These results might lead one to think that perhaps the books are not very effective. Or at least not very effective for me.

However, this whole process made me realize their value was not in the list of definitions I could recite, or the amount of examples I could point to in my work, but instead how they inspired me to actually sit down and write in the first place. Each new maxim or theory got me thinking: Can I use this in my story?

And more importantly, it kept me excited and motivated to sit down at the keyboard and try.

Sure some techniques were duds, and others forgotten as soon as I turned the page and began reading about the next technique, but at the end of the day, I’d written something, and so I was a bit further towards finishing.

So, while these early efforts were not a complete waste of time, I am hoping to be more intentional about my learning and use of craft moving forward. I think a good step for me is going to be to take more notes, and begin building a kind of process document for when I get stuck.

Matt Bell’s Refuse to Be Done has been an excellent start to that work. Though I’ve not (yet) read any of his novels, they come highly recommended by friends, and even reading the prose within this book, it is evident that he is both skilled and practiced in the craft of writing.

The three drafts he proposes for each piece are easily understandable and while it staggers me to even consider all of the work it would take to complete each of the processes he outlines within the book, it is certainly not as herculean a task as I’ve seen in other books (looking at you Sandra Scofield’s Last Draft).

However, I think what I enjoyed most about the book was the simple mantra given in the title. Refuse . . . to . . . be . . . done.

Obviously the goal is to finish a story, or a novel, but this slogan has a real “journey before destination” vibe which resonates with me deeply. Also, when I don’t feel like working on a piece, when I feel like giving up, it is a weirdly motivating thing to say. Like somehow putting in the work is an act of rebellion. This alone I think has had some dividends for my writing.

But I guess the real judge of quality for any kind of book like this is whether or not the techniques work?

Long time readers of this blog may have noticed that this is the first book on writing craft that I’ve reviewed here. I hope this will change in 2024, but I think I’ve been reluctant to do so before now because I’ve wanted to test the ideas within such a book and give them a recommendation if they’re helpful.

But by what standards would I judge such a thing? Finished stories? Acceptances to publications? Reviews from beta readers? Or perhaps the amount of times I was consciously aware of using a technique (which we’ve already established has not been many)?

I’ve only ever finished a single novel, and by the criteria written in this book, I’ve actually only completed the first draft. Even if I evaluated RTBD based on its helpfulness in completing one short story, it could be a pretty long time before any review was ever written.

So, I’m also refusing . . . to . . . wait. lol.

What I can say about the book right now, is there was enough interesting and (ahem) novel advice in here to take about 2,000 words of notes regarding some 24 concepts. I’m still in the generative phase (1st draft) of my current work-in-progress, but already once since finishing the book I’ve been able to pick something out of the notes which helped me go from stuck to putting more words on the page.

Assuming this trend continues, I’d say Bell has done a pretty good job.

Give This One A Read

Yep! This one is a no-brainer for me. While not every technique outlined within its pages was new to me, there was definitely enough here I hadn’t seen to make the book feel useful. I’ve already used its contents to go from stuck to unstuck which I think everyone can agree is ultimately the goal. I’m confident the book will help me accomplish this goal many more times in the future.

Also, the kind of stubbornness and rebellion inherent within the book’s title is a useful weapon for any artist but the kind of “journey before destination” type philosophy presented within the book’s pages is ESSENTIAL for writing . . . or really anything.

Don’t give up friends. See you on the other side.

That’s all I have for this week. Has anyone read this book before? Was there a technique you found particularly helpful? What other writing craft books have you read?

Please leave your thoughts in the comments. See you next time!