The story of Gilgamesh is one of the very first literary efforts in existence, an epic Mesopotamian poem whose subject is the King of Uruk, a city state on the Euphrates. This novel is an adaption of the Sumerian work, written in present day prose.

While perhaps a worthy premise for a novel, there is nothing in particular to recommend this particular work. It is very short, not especially well written (especially with respect to the sophomoric sexual encounters) or captivating. In fact, the longer I read it, the more irritated I became. Granted, this is a novel, and the author is entitled to a certain degree of literary license, however in this instance the license was abused.

For example, it is his theory (premise?) that Neanderthal man survived to the days of ancient, recorded Mesopotamian civilization. While this is ridiculous to the tune of about 30,000 years, I can almost let that go. In this case, however, he presents Neanderthal man as quite the cosmopolitan, bon-vivant man about town. He is an accomplished linguist, boasts culture and ethics beyond reproach and (hold onto your hat) is a gentle, compassionate lover, who despite being a virgin, has impeccable sexual techniques guaranteed to please the ladies.

In a role reminiscent of Ayla from Clan of the Cave Bear, the story also features a sorceress/medicine woman of sorts who, were she born 3,000 years later could have been one of the greatest minds of the Renaissance. For example, she knew that plague was carried by rats (not entirely true, as it was the fleas on the rats that carried the plague), a fact that was not even posited until well after the Bubonic Plague decimated the world in the Middle Ages. The plague wipes out her village as a result of “plague rats” dumped into the water source for the village. I’m not even sure this is a viable means of spreading plague.

She points out that her village is democratically ruled. Silly me, and I thought the Ancient Greeks brought us our concept of democratically elected government, 2,000 years after the setting of this story. The whole book suffers from this annoying habit of instilling skills, knowledge, practices and beliefs into characters who could not have possibly enjoyed them. Goodness gracious, one savage ruler is concerned about premature ejaculation as he rapes his victim, as if it will destroy his ability to entice future rape victims. I’m not sure that sexual staying power was one of the characteristics most prized by early Mesopotamian rapists.

I think it says a lot, when the presence of mythological creatures (which I have absolutely no problem with) in a novel is not even the most unbelievable facet of the story. The actual existence of Humbaba is far more likely than the linguistic skills of the Neanderthal character or the medical/scientific knowledge of the story’s medicine woman.

In closing, I’ll leave you with this puzzler:

“Twelve was the sacred number for all of Sumer. There were Twelve Tablets of Destiny seized by the monster Anzu and rescued by Ninurta. The Annunaki statues were twelve in number, as were (wait for it… wait for it…) the celestial bodies in the heavens- ten planets and the sun and moon.”

Holy Copernicus! You mean the ancient Sumerians actually posited the existence of the solar system, and without the aid of telescopes even identified TEN planets? Even before Pluto was removed from the pantheon of planets, we could only come up with nine!

I’m perfectly aware of the lunatic fringe (yes, aliens are involved) which ascribes seemingly impossible astronomical skills and powers to the ancient Sumerians. The fact is, mainstream historians and researchers recognize that the planet Venus was not identified until 1500 B.C.E., approximately 1,000 years after the era of Gilgamesh. While the Babylonians later identified several more planets, the outer planets could not possibly have been discovered or observed before introduction of powerful optical telescopes in early modern times.

I can’t imagine a readership to which I would recommend this work. ( )

The Epic of Gilgamesh is an ancient (c. 2000 BCE) Mesopotamian epic poem, and is one of the earliest extant written literary sources. The canonical text is taken from a series of twelve tablets in Akkadian, though an earlier Sumerian "edition" also exists which sometimes serves to interpolate lacunae in the later tablets. It is a work of the utmost importance.

The epic concerns a mythical king, Gilgamesh, of the city of Uruk, and his friendship with a "wild-man", Enkidu. They have a number of adventures together, notably a battle with a demon, Humbaba, who dwells in the Cedar Forest and, later, a struggle with the Bull of Heaven sent by the goddess Ishtar to take revenge against Gilgamesh for his rejection of her sexual advances.

Many translations of the original tablets exist (search on Amazon), and there is at least one available online at
http://www.ancienttexts.org/library/mesopotamia/gilgamesh/, which is as useful as those the reviewer has read in print.

Brian Trent's novel, "Never Grow Old: The Novel of Gilgamesh", is a re-telling of the epic poem in modern prose. The novel does not conform precisely to the original story line, nor is it intended to. The major characters and plot elements are all present, however, and there are some interesting speculative additions. What the author appears to want to do is to give flesh to the rather austere original skeletal story, making it more accessible to the modern reader, and this he achieves splendidly. The success of this novel is its ability to transport the reader to a very different time and place. One quickly becomes blissfully lost in a world that existed some 4000 years ago. A quick and easy read, this novel should appeal to a wide readership that enjoys historical fiction.

While sex is an important element in the original Akkadian verse, my chief complaint with the book, apart from some minor editing slips that are not worth mentioning, is that the sex seems a bit overdone. Nevertheless, this is a minor point and other readers might easily disagree. ( )