Arthur Phillips (1) (1969–)
Author of The Egyptologist
For other authors named Arthur Phillips, see the disambiguation page.
About the Author
Arthur Phillips was born in Minneapolis and educated at Harvard. He has been a child actor, a jazz musician, a speechwriter, a failed entrepreneur and a five-time Jeopardy champion. He lived in Budapest from 1990 to 1992 and now lives in Paris with his wife and son. (Publisher Fact Sheets)
Image credit: (C) Thomas LeGreve
Works by Arthur Phillips
Associated Works
Ballad of the Whiskey Robber: A True Story of Bank Heists, Ice Hockey, Transylvanian Pelt Smuggling, Moonlighting Detectives and Broken Hearts (2004) — Narrator, some editions — 795 copies, 31 reviews
Tagged
Common Knowledge
- Canonical name
- Phillips, Arthur
- Legal name
- Phillips, Arthur Peter Monroe
- Birthdate
- 1969-04-23
- Gender
- male
- Education
- Harvard University (BA|1990)
Berklee School of Music
The Blake School, Minneapolis - Occupations
- author
- Awards and honors
- Jeopardy Champion (five-time)
LA Times Book Prize for First Fiction (Prague)
Art Seidenbaum Award for First Fiction (2003) - Agent
- Marly Rusoff (The Rusoff Agency)
- Relationships
- Phillips, Michael (brother)
Muschietti, Barbara (spouse) - Short biography
- Arthur Phillips was born in Minneapolis and educated at Harvard. He has been a child actor, a jazz musician, a speechwriter, a dismally failed entrepreneur, and a five-time Jeopardy! champion.
His first novel, Prague, was named a New York Times Notable Book, and receivedThe Los Angeles Times/Art Seidenbaum Award for best first novel. His second novel, The Egyptologist, was an international bestseller, and was on more than a dozen “Best of 2004” lists. Angelica, his third novel, made The Washington Post best fiction of 2007 and led that paper to call him "One of the best writers in America." The Song Is You was a New York Times Notable Book, on the Post's best of 2009 list, and inspired Kirkus to write, "Phillips still looks like the best American novelist to have emerged in the present decade."
His work has been published in twenty-seven languages, and is the source of three films currently in development.
His fifth book, The Tragedy of Arthur, will be published April 19, 2011.
He lives in New York with his wife and two sons. - Nationality
- USA
- Birthplace
- Minneapolis, Minnesota, USA
- Places of residence
- New York, New York, USA
Paris, Île-de-France, France
Budapest, Hungary - Associated Place (for map)
- USA
Members
Reviews
Reading a novel by Arthur Phillips is, for me, always an intellectual treat. Although his books purport to be about one thing, subject, or time, it turns out that while one may be set in Victorian England or among Egyptologists hunting for ancient tombs, the plot is merely the lens through which Phillips asks the more important questions: What is true? When does ambition become madness? Why did it happen this way, or did it? In other words, Phillips' novels are deeper than they first appear, show more and if you're reading them for straight historical fiction, you're missing a lot.
The King at the Edge of the World is the story of Mahmud Ezzadine, a Turk, a physician, and a member of a diplomatic delegation sent to Queen Elizabeth's England in1601. Elizabeth is aging and without an heir to the throne, the various contenders are lining up and jockeying for position. As the Catholic/Protestant wars still throughout society, the world's spies are very, very busy.
Although he wishes to be done with diplomacy and return home to his wife and young son , Ezzadine makes a mistake trading quips with Kit Marlowe and is blackmailed into staying in England, and is "gifted" to the Queen, caught in the whorls and shifting tides of diplomacy. For a decade, he goes where directed, converts to Protestant Christianity, and busies himself learning England's plants and their medicinal uses. Eventually, he is recruited by Geoffrey Belloc to spy on the leading contender to the throne - James VI of Scotland - to determine whether James is, in his heart, truly a Protestant, or if he secretly still worships in his dastardly mother's Catholic ways.
Those are the nuts and bolts, and if Phillips had left it there, the book would have been entertaining enough, with its spycraft and plant lore and allusions to the plays and players of the era, Shakespeare and Marlowe included. But no, Phillips pushes it further: We know the outcome, or think we do, but of all possible outcomes, which pivot points and plans got us there? Questions of identity and character arise as well: Who are we and how do we know? Are we the masks we put on or the parts we play, and at which point does one become the other? what is in one's Secret Heart, and does it matter?
Reading an Arthur Phillips novel is like working a puzzle - there are a damn lot of pieces which fit together in myriad ways, and the picture that results is seldom the one you thought you were working on when you bought the thing. The view at the end, however, is worth the work.
(I received a free electronic ARC of this book from the publisher via NetGalley for review, in exchange for an honest review.) show less
The King at the Edge of the World is the story of Mahmud Ezzadine, a Turk, a physician, and a member of a diplomatic delegation sent to Queen Elizabeth's England in1601. Elizabeth is aging and without an heir to the throne, the various contenders are lining up and jockeying for position. As the Catholic/Protestant wars still throughout society, the world's spies are very, very busy.
Although he wishes to be done with diplomacy and return home to his wife and young son , Ezzadine makes a mistake trading quips with Kit Marlowe and is blackmailed into staying in England, and is "gifted" to the Queen, caught in the whorls and shifting tides of diplomacy. For a decade, he goes where directed, converts to Protestant Christianity, and busies himself learning England's plants and their medicinal uses. Eventually, he is recruited by Geoffrey Belloc to spy on the leading contender to the throne - James VI of Scotland - to determine whether James is, in his heart, truly a Protestant, or if he secretly still worships in his dastardly mother's Catholic ways.
Those are the nuts and bolts, and if Phillips had left it there, the book would have been entertaining enough, with its spycraft and plant lore and allusions to the plays and players of the era, Shakespeare and Marlowe included. But no, Phillips pushes it further: We know the outcome, or think we do, but of all possible outcomes, which pivot points and plans got us there? Questions of identity and character arise as well: Who are we and how do we know? Are we the masks we put on or the parts we play, and at which point does one become the other? what is in one's Secret Heart, and does it matter?
Reading an Arthur Phillips novel is like working a puzzle - there are a damn lot of pieces which fit together in myriad ways, and the picture that results is seldom the one you thought you were working on when you bought the thing. The view at the end, however, is worth the work.
(I received a free electronic ARC of this book from the publisher via NetGalley for review, in exchange for an honest review.) show less
Summary: Ralph Trilipush, a British archaeologist, sets out in 1922 to search for the tomb of King Atum-hadu, whose very existence is doubted by most scholars, but who Ralph believes is the author of a scroll of erotic poetry that he translated several years previously. Ralph is not particularly honest, scrupulous, or trustworthy, and to complicate matters, there is an investigator poking around his background and stirring up doubts in the mind of his fiancée, Margaret, and her father, show more Ralph's financial backer. The entire book is in an epistolary format; a combination of Ralph's journals and notes for his book about the discovery of Atum-hadu's tomb, letters from the investigator to Margaret's nephew thirty years after the fact, and miscellaneous correspondence between other characters.
Review: This book is not quite like anything I've ever read before. It's a unique experience to read a book where the story is never - never - told straight-out, and the only way to get at the truth of the events is to look at the distorted reflections of it filtered through various unreliable narrators, each with their own unique biases. The reader has to guess what really happened through detective work of their own, but unlike most mystery novels, those guesses are never really confirmed one way or another. The skill of writing involved to pull this off is incredible; each of the narrators has a clear voice, and a particularly unique way of lying, of bending the truth, so that as the book progresses and we become more familiar with them, we can see the underlying reality more and more clearly. There's also a wonderful black humor running underneath everything, as we watch the narrators descend further and further into ambition, jealousy, and above all else, self-deception as they variously seek immortality.
Recommendation: Requires a fair bit of attention from the reader, so it's not an easy-going, kicked-back kind of book, but the unique and masterfully crafted characters, story, and tone make it well worth the effort. show less
Review: This book is not quite like anything I've ever read before. It's a unique experience to read a book where the story is never - never - told straight-out, and the only way to get at the truth of the events is to look at the distorted reflections of it filtered through various unreliable narrators, each with their own unique biases. The reader has to guess what really happened through detective work of their own, but unlike most mystery novels, those guesses are never really confirmed one way or another. The skill of writing involved to pull this off is incredible; each of the narrators has a clear voice, and a particularly unique way of lying, of bending the truth, so that as the book progresses and we become more familiar with them, we can see the underlying reality more and more clearly. There's also a wonderful black humor running underneath everything, as we watch the narrators descend further and further into ambition, jealousy, and above all else, self-deception as they variously seek immortality.
Recommendation: Requires a fair bit of attention from the reader, so it's not an easy-going, kicked-back kind of book, but the unique and masterfully crafted characters, story, and tone make it well worth the effort. show less
In 1591, Mahmoud Ezzedine lives a fulfilling life. As court physician to the Sultan Murad in Constantinople, Mahmoud is highly respected, and his general practice gives him a deserved reputation as a skilled, empathic healer. He has a comfortable house, a beautiful, loving wife, and a son whom he dotes on. Truly, Allah has blessed him.
But a diplomatic mission to London, of all places, is setting forth, and Mahmoud, who’d rather not go anywhere, is dragged along. He has little choice, show more really, for Murad the Great’s command is law. However, the official who gives the Caliph of Caliphs the idea to send the doctor with the diplomats lusts after Mahmoud’s wife. As a kind, honest person who prefers directness to invasion or suggestion, Mahmoud’s no match for that particular courtier, or any other, for that matter. And you just know, even if you haven’t read the jacket flap — don’t — that the good doctor will make an innocent mistake, for which he’ll pay dearly.
If you’re like me and get upset when you read about decent people suffering for their virtues while the evil triumph, The King at the Edge of the World will make you ache. For that reason, short as the novel is, and recounting as riveting a story as you could want, the threats to our hero kept me from plowing through. Do read the book, though — but not, repeat, the jacket flap, about as potent a spoiler as you’ll ever find.
Phillips excels at re-creating historical attitudes, prejudices, and ways of reasoning. Mahmoud’s adventures in England also resemble a thriller’s in their ever-increasing intensity; combined, these elements make a strong, thought-provoking narrative. At its center, Phillips puts the England riven by conflict between Protestant and Catholic and imagines how a Muslim would view that.
It will be recalled that Elizabethan politics and diplomacy revolved around who prayed where, and in what way, and how many people died, often in hideous fashion, for doing it wrong or attempting to make everyone else do it their way. Hard to imagine that all this idiocy happened during an age blessed with cultural triumph — and Mahmoud, the observant Muslim, remains unimpressed.
The physician, if he weren’t a member of a diplomatic mission, would be called a heretic and a savage to his face (as some English folk manage to imply even as they think they’re being polite). But who’s the person who embodies religious virtue, and who are the real heretics? Who’s the savage, and who’s the civilized, cultured man? This is how Phillips casts the sceptered isle in its glory. To be sure, he also creates an English narrator who insists that Catholic plots against the realm do exist and, if not crushed, would cause widespread bloodshed. Since he’s utterly credible, the question then becomes how to square the civilization and the savagery; and of course, there is no real answer.
My only objections to this novel — have I mentioned the too-revealing jacket flap? — concern Mahmoud’s role as a political actor. How could such a guileless innocent occupy any court position, let alone that of a physician, with the power to kill as well as heal? After all, history records how Ottoman crown princes, on attaining the throne, might have their brothers strangled with a silken cord, as Murad did. Only the politically adept would survive such an atmosphere, or even be invited into it.
Similarly, as the narrative progresses, Mahmoud learns a thing or two about survival — not easily, mind you, and requiring excruciating mental gymnastics, which Phillips ably portrays. For that reason I don’t entirely accept the end, which the author fudges somewhat, unwelcome in itself.
But The King at the End of the World is a marvelous book nonetheless. show less
But a diplomatic mission to London, of all places, is setting forth, and Mahmoud, who’d rather not go anywhere, is dragged along. He has little choice, show more really, for Murad the Great’s command is law. However, the official who gives the Caliph of Caliphs the idea to send the doctor with the diplomats lusts after Mahmoud’s wife. As a kind, honest person who prefers directness to invasion or suggestion, Mahmoud’s no match for that particular courtier, or any other, for that matter. And you just know, even if you haven’t read the jacket flap — don’t — that the good doctor will make an innocent mistake, for which he’ll pay dearly.
If you’re like me and get upset when you read about decent people suffering for their virtues while the evil triumph, The King at the Edge of the World will make you ache. For that reason, short as the novel is, and recounting as riveting a story as you could want, the threats to our hero kept me from plowing through. Do read the book, though — but not, repeat, the jacket flap, about as potent a spoiler as you’ll ever find.
Phillips excels at re-creating historical attitudes, prejudices, and ways of reasoning. Mahmoud’s adventures in England also resemble a thriller’s in their ever-increasing intensity; combined, these elements make a strong, thought-provoking narrative. At its center, Phillips puts the England riven by conflict between Protestant and Catholic and imagines how a Muslim would view that.
It will be recalled that Elizabethan politics and diplomacy revolved around who prayed where, and in what way, and how many people died, often in hideous fashion, for doing it wrong or attempting to make everyone else do it their way. Hard to imagine that all this idiocy happened during an age blessed with cultural triumph — and Mahmoud, the observant Muslim, remains unimpressed.
The physician, if he weren’t a member of a diplomatic mission, would be called a heretic and a savage to his face (as some English folk manage to imply even as they think they’re being polite). But who’s the person who embodies religious virtue, and who are the real heretics? Who’s the savage, and who’s the civilized, cultured man? This is how Phillips casts the sceptered isle in its glory. To be sure, he also creates an English narrator who insists that Catholic plots against the realm do exist and, if not crushed, would cause widespread bloodshed. Since he’s utterly credible, the question then becomes how to square the civilization and the savagery; and of course, there is no real answer.
My only objections to this novel — have I mentioned the too-revealing jacket flap? — concern Mahmoud’s role as a political actor. How could such a guileless innocent occupy any court position, let alone that of a physician, with the power to kill as well as heal? After all, history records how Ottoman crown princes, on attaining the throne, might have their brothers strangled with a silken cord, as Murad did. Only the politically adept would survive such an atmosphere, or even be invited into it.
Similarly, as the narrative progresses, Mahmoud learns a thing or two about survival — not easily, mind you, and requiring excruciating mental gymnastics, which Phillips ably portrays. For that reason I don’t entirely accept the end, which the author fudges somewhat, unwelcome in itself.
But The King at the End of the World is a marvelous book nonetheless. show less
Beautiful, joyful (yet terribly sad), haunting, frustrating. That's how I'd describe The Song is You in ten words or less.
Now for more words.
Reading it, I often found myself in an intense state of panic. The action itself crawls, and yet the future of the story constantly feels frighteningly urgent. Arthur Phillips completely ignores the rule of "show, don't tell" by filling the vast majority of his story with exposition over action and dialogue, and yet it seems okay. Even necessary. show more Through so much rambling description and explanation, he is able to craft perhaps the most vivid characters I've ever read. Even the most minor of characters feel like real people. You can imagine what they smell like, how they walk and move, the sound of their voice (even the non-accented ones). And boy, can this guy craft some powerful suspense from the simplest situations.
BUT. I wanted more. That's my major gripe. It feels incomplete. And not cleverly or intentionally so. Rather, it feels slightly stunted and wanting. In a story about two hungry people circling each other, fantasizing about each other, building each other up to impossible heights doomed for mutual disappointment, perhaps it's only appropriate that the story does the same to the reader. Right?
If that is truly the feeling that Phillips is trying to evoke, crafting an emotion to match the flow of the narrative, forcing the reader into submission of the characters' sufferings, then I must say bravo. He succeeds. Still, what an awful feeling to evoke. How cruel to cause such a constant intake of breath and never give the reader a chance to exhale, choosing instead to let them linger in the discomfort of a held breath.
The writing is wonderful. The story feels so unique, fresh, and creative while focusing on such classical themes that could very well be cliches in the hands of a lesser author. Definitely one of the most intriguing books I've read in a very, very long time. And yet (without revealing any particular details) I sincerely will never forgive him for tying things up with -- figuratively as well as quite literally in the case of the protagonist's father -- a fart. I would've rather preferred to exhale my 250-page deep breath, and instead I was coughing. Great book though, truly. show less
Now for more words.
Reading it, I often found myself in an intense state of panic. The action itself crawls, and yet the future of the story constantly feels frighteningly urgent. Arthur Phillips completely ignores the rule of "show, don't tell" by filling the vast majority of his story with exposition over action and dialogue, and yet it seems okay. Even necessary. show more Through so much rambling description and explanation, he is able to craft perhaps the most vivid characters I've ever read. Even the most minor of characters feel like real people. You can imagine what they smell like, how they walk and move, the sound of their voice (even the non-accented ones). And boy, can this guy craft some powerful suspense from the simplest situations.
BUT. I wanted more. That's my major gripe. It feels incomplete. And not cleverly or intentionally so. Rather, it feels slightly stunted and wanting. In a story about two hungry people circling each other, fantasizing about each other, building each other up to impossible heights doomed for mutual disappointment, perhaps it's only appropriate that the story does the same to the reader. Right?
If that is truly the feeling that Phillips is trying to evoke, crafting an emotion to match the flow of the narrative, forcing the reader into submission of the characters' sufferings, then I must say bravo. He succeeds. Still, what an awful feeling to evoke. How cruel to cause such a constant intake of breath and never give the reader a chance to exhale, choosing instead to let them linger in the discomfort of a held breath.
The writing is wonderful. The story feels so unique, fresh, and creative while focusing on such classical themes that could very well be cliches in the hands of a lesser author. Definitely one of the most intriguing books I've read in a very, very long time. And yet (without revealing any particular details) I sincerely will never forgive him for tying things up with -- figuratively as well as quite literally in the case of the protagonist's father -- a fart. I would've rather preferred to exhale my 250-page deep breath, and instead I was coughing. Great book though, truly. show less
This review was written for LibraryThing Early Reviewers.Lists
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