Cleopatra's Moon by Vicky Alvear Shecter. Published by Arthur A. Levine Books, an Imprint of Scholastic. pages $ “A tale of a. Cleopatra's moon / by Vicky Alvear Shecter. — 1st ed. p. cm. Summary: Cleopatra Selene, the only surviving daughter of Cleopatra and Marc Antony, recalls her. 4 days ago Cleopatra's Moon by Vicky Alvear Shecter is Historical Selene has grown up in a palace on the. Nile with her parents, Cleopatra & Mark.

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Cleopatras Moon Pdf

Get Free Read & Download Files Cleopatras Moon Vicky Alvear Shecter PDF. CLEOPATRAS MOON VICKY ALVEAR SHECTER. Download: Cleopatras Moon . Cleopatra Selene, along with her two brothers, is taken to Rome where she spends Praise for Cleopatra's Moon . Cleopatra's Moon Discussion Guide ( PDF). Selene is the daughter of Cleopatra and Mark Antony. The jealous Roman Emperor Octavianus takes Egypt for himself. Selene loses all she's ever loved and is.

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Log In Sign Up. Cleopatra's Moon. Cleopatra's Moon Vicky Shecter. Published by Arthur A. Levine Books, an imprint of Scholastic Inc. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photo- copying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.

For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc. ISBN alk. Princesses — Fiction.

Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt, d. Antonius, Marcus, 83? Egypt — History — —30 B. Rome — History — Augustus, 30 B.

SCle [Fic] — dc22 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 11 12 13 14 15 Printed in the U. The translation of Catullus 85 on pp. Smithers, , at http: I suspect it began in my seventh year, on a day that I once consid- ered one of the happiest of my life. It was a dazzling, sun-drenched summer morning in Alexandria-by-the-Sea.

Outside the Royal Quarter, with the Mediterranean sparkling behind us and rows of date palms swaying before us, my mother and brothers and I sat alongside one another on individual thrones.

We waited for my father, the great Roman general Marcus Antonius, to finish parading through the city and join us atop our grand ceremonial dais. The ceremony today would celebrate his victory over Armenia, his eastern enemy. And we — his family and all of Alexandria — would rejoice with him. Even in the shade of our royal canopy, sweat trickled down my neck and back.

The ostrich-feather fans the servants waved over us provided little relief. Strong breezes occasionally gusted from the Royal Harbor, cooling us with the salty bite of the sea. Despite the discomfort and the glare from the beaten silver plat- form at our feet, I forced myself to keep still as Mother had instructed, my eyes trained just above the horizon. Zosima, who had carefully painted my face, had forbidden me from squinting in the bright light. I was not to ruin the heavy black kohl around my eyes and eyebrows, and under no circumstances to cause the green malachite painted on my lids to flake off.

I was not even to turn my head. I would follow all the rules perfectly, I swore to myself. I would make Mother proud. She sat on a golden throne, looking as resplendent as one of the giant marble statues guarding the tombs of the Old Ones.

Diamonds twinkled in a jungle of black braids on her ceremonial wig. She wore a diadem with three rearing snakes and a golden broad collar, shining with lapis lazuli, carnelian, and emeralds, over her golden, form-fitting pleated gown.

In one hand, she held a golden ankh of life, while the other clasped the striped crook and flail of her divine rulership. Her stillness radiated power, like a lioness pausing before the pounce. It left me breathless with awe. It's painfully obvious that the Author spent more time looking up the Egyptian religion than Jewish beliefs, and I have to wonder why she even bothered putting the scene in at all.

Finally, there is the fact that the Author actually portrays the Romans too accurately. Yes, I am really voicing this as a complaint, and here is why: as I said, she portrays the Romans for what they were - a disgusting, perverted culture, whose economy was based solely on conquest.

She also does a fairly good job of portraying the Egyptians the same way, but still manages to glorify them by picturing Cleopatra, Marc Antony, and Julius Caesar as being "not that bad of people. Putting that "minor" flaw aside, let us return to her portrayal of the Romans.

This is where the sexual content comes into play. I will say this: the Author never becomes explicit, but she doesn't soften it either. Zosima, who had carefully painted my face, had forbidden me from squinting in the bright light. I was not to ruin the heavy black kohl around my eyes and eyebrows, and under no circumstances to cause the green malachite painted on my lids to flake off. I was not even to turn my head. I would follow all the rules perfectly, I swore to myself.

I would make Mother proud. She sat on a golden throne, looking as resplendent as one of the giant marble statues guarding the tombs of the Old Ones. Diamonds twinkled in a jungle of black braids on her ceremonial wig. She wore a diadem with three rearing snakes and a golden broad collar, shining with lapis lazuli, carnelian, and emeralds, over her golden, form-fitting pleated gown.

In one hand, she held a golden ankh of life, while the other clasped the striped crook and flail of her divine rulership. Her stillness radiated power, like a lioness pausing before the pounce.

It left me breathless with awe. I sat up straighter, trying to emulate her, puffing up with pride at the realization that only Mother and I were dressed as true rulers of Egypt — she as the Goddess Isis and I as the moon goddess, Nephthys.

After all, was I not named for the moon? My brother may have been called Alexandros Helios, for the sun, but I was Cleopatra Selene, the moon. Even my sandals flashed silver. I had never seen my beloved city so packed.

By the tens of thousands, Alexandrians and Egyptians flooded the wide avenues and byways, desperate to catch a glimpse of us or of Father on his parade route.

The richest of the noble Greek families sat on tiered benches in the square before us, while tradesmen, merchants, and the poor spilled into the streets, squirming and jostling for position. Some even shimmied up trees, climbed onto the shoulders of the statues of my ancestors, and scrabbled to the tops of pediments and roofs to get a better view of us.

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The roar of the crowd as my father approached in his chariot sounded like waves crashing against the rocks on Pharos Island, home of our Great Lighthouse.

When Tata climbed onto the dais to join us — his golden armor gleaming, his face soaked with sweat but shining with joy — he looked like a god.

The God of War! He thought to claim our weapons and weaken us. But he could not, for Rome and Egypt are blessed by the gods, our victory proof of the favor with which the Immortal Ones hold us. I perked up. Tata was about to bestow his gifts to us, his family.

Cleopatra’s Moon

To me! My mind raced with the pos- sibilities. Was I to receive a new crown from his plunderings? A golden chariot? Or perhaps an exotic beast, maybe even one that breathed fire? Tata turned toward my two-year-old brother, Ptolemy Philadelphos, who sat beside me.

Cleopatra's Moon by Vicky Alvear Shecter

Ptolly looked just like our tata, with a head of shin- ing dark curls, mischievous brown eyes, and the barrel-chested body of a bull. The crowds had swooned with adoration at the first sight of him swaggering in his tiny military cloak and boots.

I drew a breath, stunned.

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