It’s been awhile since I’ve read a book that makes me actually think. I know that sounds horribly tragic, especially seeing as I was once quite the book worm. But these days my book of choice is usually some teen fantasy book that involves vampires and teenage angst.
But the latest I picked up was a borrow from a friend – the Memoirs of Cleopatra by Margaret George. Margaret George writes historical fiction that’s based on fact. I had heard of her because of her Mary Queen of Scots book. She’s also written a novel about Helen of Troy and an Autobiography of Henry VIII.
I’m only partway in (warning: it’s long) but I’m engrossed. While I know that the conversation and back and forth stories are fiction, it’s all based on fact and I’m learning all sorts of amazing facts I never knew.
Like did you know Cleopatra had no actual Egyptian blood in her? She was of Greek descent and since her family believed in sibling marriages they hadn’t yet mixed with the natives!
And also of interest to me being in Philadelphia, the word “Philadelphia” comes from a Greek word that means sibling love (hence the above statement about all the in-breeding) Kind of gives a whole new meaning of the “City of Brotherly Love” ðŸ˜€
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