There Are Rivers in the Sky

“Arthur Smyth is gifted with an extraordinary memory—visual, verbal and sensory. Just as a drop of rain or a pellet of hail, water in whatever form, will always remember, he, too, will never forget.”

One of the protagonists of the book, Arthur is born with perfect recall; this gift elevates his affinity for language and allows him to decipher the cuneiform tablets containing The Epic of Gilgamesh. Memory is explored as both a gift and a curse throughout the book. Arthur’s extraordinary memory helps his work along but also prevents him from forgetting the hardships of his life. This is true for other characters as well: Zaleekhah cannot let go of the traumatic memory of her parents’ deaths, while Leila is unable to shake the memory of her prediction that her community will face a massacre.

“The whole city was destroyed by its enemies. It was tragic: everything Ashurbanipal built was reduced to rubble. Nothing remained, only ruins. Precious artefacts were covered under hills of sand. Until we British arrived and rescued them from oblivion.”

Samuel Birch explains to Arthur what the lamassus are and how they were unearthed in an excavation in Nineveh. Birch’s attitude speaks to the theme of Archaeology as Plunder. While it is true that ancient artifacts lay buried at Nineveh for millennia, the view that the British excavators were “rescuing” them reflects the moral and intellectual superiority that the West then felt over other cultures. This afforded them justification to bring back material, among other things, from other lands, as they viewed their actions as positive and benevolent.

“The Thames is a zombie. The river that returned from the dead. Once declared no longer capable of sustaining life, a watery corpse decomposing in its bed, today it is home to more than 125 species of fish and no fewer than 400 invertebrates, as well as seahorses, seals and even sharks. Now considered one of the most handsome and cleanest natural streams in the world, it nevertheless continues to ingest the waste of a city of millions.”

Zaleekhah reflects on the state of the Thames and what it has endured in the past. The renewed health of the Thames underscores The Interconnected and Cyclical Nature of Life, showing that life has the capacity to renew itself even when all hope seems lost. Shafak uses the cyclical regeneration that one sees in nature, particularly in water, to explore similar ideas in the context of life and human history.

“‘What’s this you’re reading?’ ‘Oh that…I’m done with it.’ Uncle’s expression hardens. ‘Just some research for an approaching auction. I might be bidding. Something exceptional has come up—an item from Nineveh.’”

Zaleekhah spots Austen Henry Layard’s book Nineveh and Its Remains in Uncle Malek’s study. This text, along with The Epic of Gilgamesh, plays an important role in the book. It introduces Arthur to ancient Mesopotamia, igniting his lifelong love for that culture and region. That Layard’s history continues to be read and referred to more than a century later is testament to the enduring fascination with ancient history even in contemporary times, speaking to the theme of The Impact of Ancient Texts on Modern Lives. Additionally, this is an instance of foreshadowing: The item from Nineveh that Uncle Malek hopes to bid on is the lapis lazuli tablet; in the course of this search, he eventually chances upon Narin.

“You must know that many cultures around the world are demonstrably inferior to our own—especially the Oriental race. It will take them a long time, if ever, to reach our level of civilization.”

Charles Dickens discusses cultures and civilizations with Arthur. Dickens’s oeuvre consistently deals with themes of social justice, class, and inequality. Despite this, he appears to hold a racist view of non-Western civilizations himself. Dickens’s unacknowledged racism reveals the kind of attitudes and beliefs that led to Archaeology as Plunder, especially during the colonial era. The Western colonial powers believed that they were civilizing other, lesser cultures.

“This he cannot explain to the man, not even to himself, but an odd excitement has taken hold of his heart. The signs on the tablets are not bird tracks or chicken scratches, random scribbles or decorative motifs. He is certain that what he has seen is a system of writing.”

Arthur realizes that the wedge-shaped marks on the clay tablets in the museum are a form of writing. Arthur’s work with cuneiform establishes his role as a connective link within the story: He serves as a connection between the ancient and modern worlds when he decodes The Epic of Gilgamesh and introduces this ancient text to the modern world. His work with the cuneiform tablets also takes him to Nineveh, where he comes in contact with the Yazidis, befriends Leila and her family, and sets in motion a chain of events that eventually connects his story with those of Narin and Zaleekhah.

“Within its walls, history is not only being protected and displayed but also rewritten. Yet Arthur is too young to understand that, in deciding what will be remembered, a museum, any museum, is also deciding, in part, what will be forgotten.”

Arthur gains permanent, long-term work at the British Museum, which is an important symbol within the story. It transcends the boundaries of time and space by offering a glimpse into different places and periods through the artifacts it houses. However, as Shafak asserts here, museums are also spaces that largely tell a single story; there are narratives that fall by the wayside as time passes on. This passage is a reminder that, despite the importance given to the documentation of history within the story, history is also far more than what has been documented; artifacts and material culture only tell a limited story.

“‘So what happened after each Flood?’ ‘What happens after catastrophes? Those who survive nurse their broken hearts and start all over again, as one always does, as one always must.’”

Besma tells Narin about stories of floods that exist in Yazidi mythology. Just as there exists a story of a flood in Yazidi tradition, there are references to a flood in the Bible, as well as in The Epic of Gilgamesh via the Flood Tablet. The similarities across age-old stories from different traditions underscore the repetitive patterns across human history, an idea that Shafak explores through the motif of water. Additionally, different forms of water take on varied symbolism in the book; the flood as a marker of endings and beginnings is derived from religious symbolism that Besma references here.

“A poem whose existence was unknown until yesterday—excavated in Nineveh, hauled on ships to London and now partially translated by a young man from the slums of Chelsea— is today the talk of millions of people around the globe.”

Following Arthur’s work deciphering The Epic of Gilgamesh, this ancient poem becomes famous around the world. The overnight fame that the text garners speaks to The Impact of Ancient Texts on Modern Lives, demonstrating yet another way in which an ancient text shaped modern life. The Epic of Gilgamesh changed the way humans viewed the history of the earth and their own existence. The fact that something resembling a Biblical flood found mention on a clay tablet predating the Bible by millennia was groundbreaking in the worlds of both science and religion during Victorian times.

“From his pocket Arthur pulls a small, wooden object. He has whittled a tiny lamassu. A lovely, lively creature, though it does not match the craftsmanship of Mesopotamian artists. But it is a guardian spirit, and he will place it by his mother’s side to protect her when he leaves London.”

Arthur leaves behind a hand-whittled lamassu for his mother before he sets sail for Constantinople. The lamassu is a recurring symbol throughout the story. The creature is regarded as a guardian spirit of sorts; however, throughout the book, it ironically fails in its mission time and again. The lamassus are unable to protect Ashurbanipal’s teacher, and later the library itself that they guard, from ruin; they do not watch over Arthur’s mother, who passes away while he is in Nineveh, and they fail to guard Zaleekhah from heartbreak of different kinds, first in her marriage and later in what she learns of her uncle.

“He holds his breath, as miles and miles of settlement unfold before him, like a silken scarf. The palaces, the kiosks, the pavilions, the konaks and the trees—terebinths, spruces, cypresses—all come alive. The Golden Horn flows ahead in a glittering ribbon—more river than sea.”

Arthur sails through the entrance to Constantinople. This passage is characteristic of Shafak’s writing style, vivid and lyrical in description: She likens the settlement to a silken scarf and the Golden Horn to a glittering ribbon. Shafak also adds touches of specific detail—naming, not just describing, the types of trees, for instance—which allow the reader to accurately and realistically picture the scene she sets before them.

“He cannot have known, but the briny welcome that greets him in Constantinople on this afternoon in 1872 and the snowflake that melted in his mouth as a newborn in London in 1840 are one and the same.”

The raindrop that fell into Ashurbanipal’s hair and later landed on newborn Arthur’s tongue as a snowflake makes a reappearance as he arrives in Constantinople. This drop of water connects the three storylines by witnessing significant moments of the three protagonists’ lives. Following Arthur’s birth, the drop’s reappearance at this juncture in his life is also especially significant: Arthur’s time in Nineveh changes him so much that it constitutes a kind of rebirth.

“The goddess of writing and agriculture. They called her the ‘Lady coloured like the stars of heaven.’ She was the spark of inspiration behind every story and poem. The patron of storytellers, poets and bards.”

Nen explains the inspiration behind the name of her tattoo parlor. Nisaba, the forgotten goddess, is a recurring symbol in the book. She is first mentioned in the dedication on the lapis lazuli tablet, and Ashurbanipal’s desire to censor this text speaks to the power of storytelling itself. With storytelling comes the power to define histories and peoples—a power that Ashurbanipal could not allow to rest with a woman.

“People think a tattoo is an act of rebellion or something, but, actually, it’s a form of storytelling. That’s what most customers come in for—not just some random image or word in ink. They come because they have a story to tell.”

Nen explains the meaning that tattoos hold for her. The power of storytelling is a recurring idea in the book and is explored through the motifs of water, ancient texts, mythology, and more. Tattoos are another motif that speaks to storytelling, and it is symbolic that Nen tattoos in cuneiform, the first known medium in which stories were recorded in human history.

“Safe for whom, though, Khaled? Westerners take our past, our memories. And then they say, ‘Don’t worry, you can come and see them any time.’ But how do we even get there? […] We’re here, but our history is elsewhere. It’s like they’ve severed our body into pieces, and they say, ‘Whenever you want, you can come visit your limbs.’”

Besma rages about how excavations led by different Western countries have seen artifacts from the Mesopotamian lands carried over to Europe and America to be displayed in their museums. Besma’s anger feeds into the theme of Archaeology as Plunder. Her argument encapsulates the questionably ethics of archaeological excavation, especially when it sees artifacts separated from the lands and communities they belong to.

“Your perceptions shift: you are made to realize the vulnerability of all that seems robust and majestic—palaces, aqueducts, temples—but, equally, the resilience of what appears small and insignificant—an ivory ring, a bronze coin, a wishbone…Nothing is trivial for an archaeologist. Even the most mundane finding is extraordinary.”

As Arthur spends time in Nineveh, he gains a new perspective on the past. So much that was grand has been destroyed and buried, yet, at the same time, seemingly insignificant objects have survived millennia. Witnessing what has endured and what has crumbled from civilizations once as mighty and powerful as the Mesopotamians is a reminder of both the transience and the resilience of human achievement.

“For me, 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. Gilgamesh, let’s admit, is an awful person in the beginning, and it is only through love and friendship and loss that he becomes more humble and gentle. 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.”

Nen explains to Uncle Malek what she takes away from The Epic of Gilgamesh. Nen’s view on the ancient text reveals how it speaks to readers millennia later, emphasizing The Impact of Ancient Texts on Modern Lives. It suggests that important aspects of human nature and experience have remained unchanged over time and space. Uncle Malek, however, reads the text differently, showcasing how, despite the universality of human experience, there persists a multitude of perspectives on life.

“Arthur is beginning to suspect that civilization is the name we give to what little we have salvaged from a loss that no one wants to remember. Triumphs are erected upon the jerry-built scaffolding of brutalities untold, heroic legends spun from the thread of aggressions and atrocities. The irrigation system was Nineveh’s glowing achievement—but how many lives were squandered in its construction? There is always another side, a forgotten side.”

Arthur’s work causes him to rethink ideas about history and civilization. He comes to see that violence and exploitation have been part of the human story since the beginning of time. The Epic of Gilgamesh is a reminder of this; the text was carefully preserved in the library of Ashurbanipal, who was one of the most erudite kings in Assyrian history and one of the most brutal. Arthur also sees how documented history itself must be questioned, recognizing that there are numerous stories and perspectives erased or forgotten in the recording of a single account.

“I doubt any therapists would send their patients to the British Museum, but when you’re next to something so impossibly old, it kind of puts things in perspective. Whatever is troubling you in this moment means little in the sweep of time. I think everyone should hang out with a lamassu every now and then.”

Nen describes how spending time in the British Museum, and among age-old artifacts, feels therapeutic to her. The lamassu makes an appearance once again as an enduring symbol of human history. That it continues to hold meaning for people millennia later is a nod to The Impact of Ancient Texts on Modern Lives. The lamassu is also a literal symbol of material history, providing people with a tangible link to the past and allowing them to feel connected to something larger than themselves.

“You were with your parents on the night they died. I’ve been thinking about it—thinking about you. Your reaction to water, so visceral, and your sorrow so close to the surface, barely submerged.”

Nen asks Zaleekhah about her parents’ deaths. Water continues to be a recurring motif, and it influences the diction in the book as well: Shafak continually weaves metaphors and figurative language featuring water into the narrative. Here, Nen describes Zaleekhah’s ever-present and poorly concealed grief about her parents as something that lies “barely submerged” under the surface of water.

“He considers himself a voracious reader. […] But he has not encountered a single line in the newspapers or anywhere else about the slaughter of the Yazidis in the very place where British, French, German and Finnish archaeologists have been digging for the remnants of ancient Nineveh.”

Arthur returns to Nineveh and is shocked to discover that all the Yazidis in Zêrav have been massacred or forced out. This discovery is in line with Arthur’s previous realization that documented history is limited in the story it tells because it ignores or suppresses certain perspectives. Arthur had not heard about the massacre because no newspaper or journalistic medium had deemed it important enough to report on.

“That night in his tent, he sits wrapped in a blanket under an oil lamp, the breeze drawing symbols on the nape of his neck. He pores over the blue tablet. It is a segment of the Epic of Gilgamesh, but one he has not come across before. The hero, having lost everything—his friend/lover, his youth, his hubris—is returning home, a broken man.”

Arthur discovers the lapis lazuli tablet that Ashurbanipal worked to keep hidden from his people. This tablet serves as an important plot device, connecting Arthur’s story with Narin’s and eventually with Zaleekhah’s. The tablet is stolen, and upon its disappearance, it resurfaces in Narin’s time; this is the tablet that Uncle Malek is after when he encounters Narin herself on the market. The tablet is also symbolic: Like the goddess to whom the lines on the tablet are dedicated, and like the Yazidis, it lies forgotten in history until they resurface together, to be remembered and set free by Zaleekhah and Nen.

“I only want to protect my loved ones. All my life I have fought for my family—unlike my mother, I would never abandon my own. Ever.”

Uncle Malek defends his choice to “buy” Narin for organ harvesting. Uncle Malek is a character driven by the trauma and tragedy he has experienced and repressed for years. His mother’s abandonment and his personal struggle to succeed as an immigrant in the West have caused him to turn hardened and survivalist, even in times of plenty. He prioritizes family over all else not because of love but because of fear and obligation.