I picked up this book off of my shelf expecting to just read something fun and then rehome it. I've had it since I was a kid, but I don't recall having ever read it, so there was no nostalgia attached. I'm glad I gave it a chance, because what I found inside was an enjoyable tale that felt surprisingly mature and grounded in its presenting of scary topics to young readers.

First off, the characters are multidimensional, which can be difficult to accomplish with child characters. Some of the characters have facades they put up, either around their classmates or adults, and the way they talk both with their walls up and as themselves feels very natural. I liked how April is stubborn and imaginative, and how Melanie always looks out for others. It's fun to see all the characters' personal attitudes towards things like how grown-up they feel, or whether or not they're embarrassed to be seen engaging in certain activities. It makes them feel very alive as children.

Even though I didn't read this book as a child, and I was not even a concept when it was published, it felt very nostalgic to read. I miss the time of imagining games and playing outside. Do kids even do that anymore?? I feel like a crusty boomer saying this, but it made me so sad that kids in the US today don't really grow up with the kind of neighborly environment portrayed here. EVERY kid should have their own equivalent to the Egypt game, whatever shape that may take. I also think maybe cringe adults who hate kids could stand to read a book like this to understand how inquisitive and creative kids can be, and that they're just small people trying to survive their own clusters of problems.

I was struck by the subtlety with which April's parental neglect was handed, and as a result, her mending of her relationship with Caroline. The moment she switches to calling her "Grandma" isn't announced by the narration, it's something left for readers to pick up on. I'm glad to see children's and young adult authors trusting their audience like this. It's also just very sweet; I'll admit that I teared up when Caroline watched over April as she slept after the attempt on April's life. And April's choice to stay with her grandma for Christmas and not dwell on how long it took her mom to invite her over showed real growth on her part.

Can we talk about the child murder, also?? I wasn't expecting this book to broach a topic so dark. Having a confirmed child death, even if we didn't know her, introduces REAL stakes and makes every subsequent trip to Egypt laced with tension. When the murderer is finally caught, it's not an epic showdown, either; it's a panicked struggle with two scared kids and one old man who did all that he could in the moment. I'm interested to see how this trauma will register with April in future books. That has to be just devastating to go through at such a young age.

Although it was an overall great reading experience, there were some things that made me go hmm. The physical descriptions of some characters felt a little unfortunate; for example, when we meet our two leads, we get a detailed vision of how April's blonde hair sits on her head and how her eyes droop, but Melanie is simply described as "African American". Aside from "pert features and slender arching eyebrows", we don't get much of an idea of her - how she wears her hair, or how she dresses, or whether or not her eyes sparkle - until future brief descriptions and illustrations. An Asian character's eyes are also described as "exotic". I get that it was the 60s, but maybe we shouldn't.

I'm not sure how to feel about the Professor's late wife being a former student, either, nor about her being killed in an uprising by the marginalized people she was trying to help. I'm glad the book didn't take a particular stance on this, and it seems like the Professor being willing to re-enter the field of representing different native cultures' art is a soft statement that it wasn't the "fault" of whatever culture she was visiting? But it did make me say, "Uh oh."

There was also a general aversion to commas that made me have to re-read sentences sometimes to understand the structure, but that's ultra nitpicky.

I'm being so brave going into the next book, whose name I don't even want to say - I don't think it was understood as a derogatory term in the 60s, but good god. It should stand as singing praise of this book that I'm willing to plunge into the next one with that in mind! I'm invested in these characters, and I'll see them through to their next adventure even if I wince every time I read the titular slur.