There Are Rivers in the Sky - Book Review

Book Information

There Are Rivers in the Sky (#ad)

Elif Shafak

Alfred A. Knopf, New York

Copyright 2025

ISBN: 978-0-593-80171-0

To the literary critic Harold Bloom, a book can only be considered canonical if a person learns more after reading it a second time. While Elif Shafak's novel, There Are Rivers in the Sky, will not rise to the level of canonical literature, a person does benefit from a second reading – which means it is an excellent book. Shafak has a weaver’s skill - she intertwines the complex stories of three different main characters, Arthur, Narin, and Zaleekah, from different times and places, into a single narrative via their connection to the ancient poem the Epic of Gilgamesh. She says, “Fiction allows us to grasp important and sensitive subjects from multiple angles - a freedom we are steadily losing in the age of social media and unfeeling algorithms.”  (Shafak 442) At times, her plot weaving is forced. I was willing to tolerate the plethora of happy accidents, however, because as a lover of Gilgamesh, I appreciate the extensive research she did to skillfully tie together not only three main characters but difficult subjects such as female representation in history, cultural appropriation, ecological disaster, and genocide.

A Sumerian goddess is depicted on this fragment of a chlorite vase from Southern Mesopotamia, Iraq, c. 2430 BC. Photo by Wolfgang Sauber

I found each of Shafak’s characters and themes to be fascinating, however, it was a secondary theme and its corresponding character that caught my fancy the most: female representation (or erasure) in history, whom Shafak ‘personifies’ via the goddess Nisaba, and the character Nen. According to Oxford Assyriologist Stephanie Dalley, Nisaba was the “Sumerian goddess of writing, learned knowledge, and of cereal fertility.” (Dalley 326) Through Nen, we learn that over the course of thousands of years, Nisaba was slowly diminished so that by the time of Christ, she was a powerless mate of Nabu, the now-god of writing and learned knowledge. Shafak weaves a tale of mystery around Nisaba’s erasure that made me want to learn more about her.

Shafak’s ability to tie together so many disparate characters, storylines, and themes contributes to her biggest flaw – she tends to throw in everything but the kitchen sink. Like appliqué, she pastes societal problems, both modern and ancient, onto her characters, especially the secondary figures. This makes them seem like stock figures. Sometimes she does this in an almost gratuitous way. For example, one of the main protagonists, Arthur, is unfairly and violently punished by a man who is the caricature of a vicious Victorian-era headmaster. During the scene in which Arthur is called into his office, Shafak resorts to cliché by making the headmaster fondle the boy even though there was no need. We already understood that the man was evil.

Fortunately, most times Shafak’s tendency to turn a secondary character into an everyman works - especially in the case of Nen, an everywoman. Nen is the quintessential modern woman who has overcome mental health challenges through therapy, journaling, and healthy eating. She is a tattoo artist who (conveniently) only tattoos in cuneiform, the ancient script that put the Epic of Gilgamesh into writing five thousand years ago. Her lifelong fascination with ancient Mesopotamia helps her teach Zaleekah all about Nisaba, the erased goddess. Nen is a little too perfect, but I liked her anyway. Shafak implies that she is the reincarnation of an anonymous scribe who worked in Ashurbanipal's library and who heretically dedicated tablets to Nisaba at a time when worship of her husband, Nabu, was sanctioned.

Nen is an example of a character who is the sum of disparate parts of the author's imagination. Shafak says, “... I do not believe you can write a novel solely from the rational mind. The heart must also be in it, and, once the heart is in it, who knows where it will take you.” (Shafak 446) The main character Arthur asks Shafak’s question for her: “Did the scribes-in-training simply record what was required of them, wishing nothing more than to perform their duties and obey the rules, or had they dared to add their own voice here and there, a personal touch, and, if so, what was their fate?” (Shafak 193) The author’s imagination takes her to ~640 BCE in Ashurbanipal's library where a scribe puts his own voice on a tablet by praising a goddess no longer worshipped. Shafak carries her imagination further and reincarnates the heretical scribe into a wise modern-day woman who continues the scribal tradition by imprinting cuneiform on people's skin. Shafak’s writing is beautiful: “... she carries, in one hand, a stalk of wheat - the symbol of life, renewal, and rebirth; in her other hand, she holds a gold stylus and a tablet of lapis lazuli. The roots of agriculture and the roots of literature are intertwined, and it is none other than Nisaba who braids them like a lock of her hair.” (Shafak 371)

Raising awareness of female erasure in history is not Nen’s only purpose in the novel. Another secondary character, Zaleekah’s Uncle Malek, and Nen serve to contrast modern with traditional interpretations of the Epic of Gilgamesh. In Nen's modern, psychological interpretation, “... the epic is primarily about both the fragility and resilience of being human, and, also it is about the possibility for change. Learning to care for others, not just yourself... So it is a story in which there is no hero in the traditional sense, and everything is either fractured or fluid - like life itself.” (Shafak 306) Uncle Malek, with his immigrant-turned-British Lord background, interprets Gilgamesh more simply. “The epic tells us that, since we cannot attain immortality, or even prolong youth, we must eat and drink and make merry and always prioritize family and friends. Our own people. That’s its universal message. Family comes first.” (Ibid)

Universality is what makes the Epic of Gilgamesh canonical. Uncle Malek’s interpretation is lifted directly from the poem and explains why it has inspired people over thousands of years. Nen’s interpretation explains why the poem still resonates today. As Shafak says, “Incomplete and fractured, with its flawed hero, inherent uncertainties, shifting moods and refusal to offer easy optimism, it is a narrative that mirrors an imperfect world.” (Shafak 420) As a lover of the Epic of Gilgamesh, I appreciated There Are Rivers in the Sky because it adds another layer of literary archaeology to the poem’s history. Despite the forced coincidences between the three main characters, there is much to like about Elif Shafak’s novel. The happy coincidences can be eye-rolling at times and cause some of her characters to become stereotypes. However, any friend of the Epic of Gilgamesh is a friend of mine. Shafak's knowledge of and sensitivity to the poem makes her book worth reading.

Bibliography

Dalley, Stephanie. Myths from Mesopotamia: Creation, The Flood, Gilgamesh, and Others. (#ad) Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008.

Shafak, Elif. There Are Rivers in the Sky. (#ad) New York: Afred A. Knopf, 2024.