THE SULTAN’S HAREM

Last seen amidst the bloodthirsty Aztecs (Feathered Serpent, 2002), Falconer checks into a Turkish harem.

Looking for a sensual tale of debauched sultans and languorous odalisques who scheme, sulk, and smoke dope? Then skip this version. Süleyman the Magnificent can’t even have sex without obsessing over international relations, circa 1550, his role as a statesman, and why it all seems so empty. As the naked, voluptuous, perfumed royal favorite Gülbehar displays her vermilion-painted pubis for his delectation, Süleyman realizes that it’s only her familiarity that he loves. “Perhaps this protocol that I hate has molded me into its creature after all,” thinks he. “I love order and repetition too much.” As time goes by, unfortunately for Gülbehar, Süleyman also realizes that he loves the fair Hürrem, a gorgeous Tartar interloper who wants to be his one and only. But palace politics come first in this half-hearted romance as assorted viziers, eunuchs, and power-hungry sons with glittering eyes skulk about and complain in overwrought dialogue (through thin, cruel lips) straight out of a bad silent movie.

Okay for anyone who can’t get enough of camels-and-couscous epics—but readers who loved the heated sensuality and intrigue of Barbara Chase-Riboud’s much more polished Valide or even Bertrice Small’s fabulously trashy The Khadin are not likely to be wowed.