Nefertiti must have known this house. It's not too fantastic to think that sometimes, long ago, people sitting as we were now, in this very room, might have heard the murmur of servants' voices out beyond the Central Room, speaking the lovely name as she drew near: 'Nefertiti. It is Nefertiti. The Beautiful Lady comes!' And in a moment she may have passed through this doorway, trodden this floor, and perhaps sat talking to her host with a small sandalled foot resting on this column base by my chair.42
This kind of relationship with the past affected Pendlebury's archaeological analysis of Amarna in a lasting way. It certainly coloured the terminology he adopted for the large official buildings in the central city which were his excava- tional focus. Lacking much indication of what they were originally called, Pendlebury could bestow his own names. Attempting to describe the functions of various rooms in these structures, he borrowed words that had specific meanings in contemporary Muslim culture
It might be argued that nuanced archaeologies were not a feature of the 1930s, but this is not necessarily the case. At exactly the same time as Pendlebury was excavating the houses of Amarna, the French archaeologist Bernard Bruycre was digging at Egypt's other great settlement site, Deir cl-Mcdina. Bruyere was in many ways a more subtle archaeologist than Pendlebury. He looked at the ancient data with fewer preconceptions about their meaning and function, and was more open to using parallels from non-western cultures to try to make sense of his finds. When he found fertility figurines at Deir el-Medina, he immediately located them in a context of cultural difference, citing comparanda from African cultures.47
And Henri Frankfort, who had directed the cxcavation at Amarna before Pendlebury, was also interested in what he called the African substratum to Egyptian culture. While Bruyere and Frankfort stress difference, Pendlebury stresses familiarity in the city he described, apparently without irony, as the 'Monotheistic Utopia of Ancient Egypt'.48Consequently, Pcndlebury's Amarna (like Wilkinson's almost exactly a century earlier) is a paradoxical place: it is certainly fabricated as a romantic escape from the present, but it is an escape into a past whose troubling features have been discarded and replaced by the best aspects of the present. Amarna and London may be conflated, but Amarna is London without bad sanitation. In elaborate architectural reconstructions and perspective drawings on the pages of