Qusayr ‘Amra is perhaps the most enigmatic of the so-called Umayyad “desert castles” that inhabit the landscape of the Syro-Jordanian steppe and the more arid regions to the east of it. These “castles,” or qusur as they are commonly referred to in Arabic, are in fact residences, bathhouses, hunting lodges, and farms built by the elites of the Umayyad dynasty (661–750 CE). Built sometime in the first half of the eighth-century CE, Qusayr ‘Amra consists of a bath complex (a large hall and three small bathing rooms), a deep stone well, a cistern, and a hydraulic installation with a waterwheel. The most notable feature of Qusayr ‘Amra, and what has beguiled scholars and travelers since the end of the nineteenth century, is the frescoed interior of the bath complex. Indeed, these four hundred-and-fifty square meters of painted walls are among the most extensive and complete decorative programs to survive from the ancient world. The frescos depict a seemingly disparate collection of subjects including hunting scenes, dancing girls, musicians, royal portraiture, astronomical representations, as well as craftsmen at work. Even though these paintings (and the complex as a whole) have inspired copious interpretations, their date, meaning, and patronage remain unclear. In an attempt to unravel the mysteries of this complex and its decoration, Garth Fowden examines Qusayr ‘Amra within the wider context of late antique Syria and offers a conceptual reading of the complex and its frescos based on analogies drawn from Arabic poetry, specifically from the pre- and early Islamic qasida (ode).

Fowden’s book begins in 1898 with the dramatic story of the discovery of Qusayr ‘Amra by the Czech priest and scholar Alois Musil, and continues with an overview of how this complex has been studied (and dubiously restored) since the turn of the twentieth century. The second chapter discusses the architectural layout of the complex and its relationship to surrounding structures that were also part of a larger complex. Because of its relatively high quality of construction and painted interiors, especially when compared to its neighboring structures, Fowden argues that the bath complex, especially its large hall, was the main attraction at Qusayr ‘Amra. Fowden devotes the latter half of this chapter to a discussion of three themes that are repeated in the murals: nudity, entertainment, and women. Here Fowden turns to early Arabic poetry for elucidation. Compilations of early Arabic poetry, especially the ninth-century Kitab al-Aghani (“Book of Songs”) by Abu Faraj al-Isfahani, have long been the favorite arsenal of scholars attempting to understand the mysteries of Qusayr ‘Amra and the Umayyad qusur. However, in this case Fowden also draws on lesser-consulted works, such as the sixth-century Muallaqat of Imru’ al-Qays. The poetry leads the author to suggest that the representations of the female entertainers served as a backdrop for the real activities that were common practice at Qusayr ‘Amra—namely the singing of poetry by beautiful young women.

In the third chapter, Fowden discusses hunting, another common image in the frescos, and one that, along with the recitation of poetry, was a favorite pastime of late-antique Arabs. This chapter provides one of the most innovative treatments of the hunt in late antiquity. Fowden again deftly engages a wide variety of early Arabic poetry, and juxtaposes it with late antique (Roman, Byzantine, and Sasanian) and early Islamic depictions of hunting. In addition, Fowden provides a detailed discussion of hunting practices in late antiquity, and determines that the depictions of hunting with nets at Qusayr ‘Amra represents a distinctly pre-Islamic Arab form of hunting in Syria. This chapter concludes with a proposition that the hunting scenes coupled with the representations of women reflect an image of a virile yet sexually tempered male patron.

In the following two chapters, Fowden turns his attention to uncovering the patron’s identity. Here, a depiction of an enthroned figure in the central alcove of the complex’s audience hall provides the author with the first clue. An inscription describing the enthroned figure as an amir indicates that this figure is an heir apparent, and not a caliph, as previous scholars had suggested, since he is not given the caliphal title of amir al-mu’minin (prince/leader of the faithful). In an imaginative (though not wholly convincing) twist, Fowden argues that this portrait should also be seen as an attempt on the Umayyad amir’s part to represent himself as Adam, God’s original successor (caliph). The adoption of Adam, according to Fowden, foreshadows the future caliphal role of the amir. The fifth chapter is devoted to identifying this patron, who has hitherto been identified as either al-Walid I (r. 705–15) or al-Walid II (r. 743–44). In a convoluted argument that employs poetry, comparative analysis of other qusur, as well as a somewhat far-fetched deconstruction of the patron’s personality, Fowden attributes Qusayr ‘Amra to the patronage of al-Walid II. The patron is presented here as a man who is at once a hedonist, a poet, a theologian, and an astute statesman. Al-Walid II’s project at Qusayr ‘Amra, as Fowden sees it, is a propaganda vehicle that served not only to legitimize his rule but also that of the Umayyad dynasty.

The subsequent three chapters explore three panels that serve as further legitimizing agents. The first panel, which Fowden calls the “dynastic icon,” is a curious image analogous in composition to early Christian and Byzantine depictions of Christ’s Nativity. Here, the author rightly points to the difficulty of reading this image due to its poor preservation and its marred inscriptions (which are largely a result of the careless restorations undertaken in the 1970s). Regardless, Fowden is able to infer a meaning. He identifies the central female figure as the Christian mother of al-Hakam, al-Walid II’s designated heir to the caliphate, and reads the panel to be not only a symbol of al-Walid’s “virility” (196) but also as “a symbolic proclamation of the Umayyad house generally, of the divine grace and favor shown into it, of regularity and legitimacy of the succession, and of the victoriousness that ideally, and often actually, marked its dealings with other powers” (194–95). These ideas are carried over to the next chapter in which the author turns his attention to the most famous painting at Qusayr ‘Amra, the panel commonly called The Six Kings. Fowden delves into a compelling iconographic study of this panel and draws upon examples of late antique iconography that are as far afield as the Rabbula Gospels and Taq-i Bustan in Iran. Fowden does not offer an unusual interpretation of this panel, and sees the Six Kings (as others, most notably Oleg Grabar, have before him) as a reflection of the caliph’s lineage and “kingly majesty” (226), as well as an assertion of the legitimacy of the Umayyad dynasty. The eighth chapter is devoted to the third panel, which depicts the singular figure of a scantily clad bathing woman who stands adjacent to the Six Kings. While this figure has often been interpreted as one of the many entertainers depicted at Qusayr ‘Amra, Fowden, in contrast, identifies her as Shah-i Afrid, a captive Sasanian princess who became al-Walid II’s concubine and mother of his child, Yazid. Even though the author is unable to substantiate his interpretation, Shah-i Afrid is a convenient complement to the representation of the Six Kings and the “dynastic icon.” These three panels, as Fowden sees them, form a triptych, whose central section, The Six Kings, affirms the political and cultural heritage of al-Walid II (and the Umayyad dynasty), while its two wings affirm his genealogical legacy. The role of this triptych complements the portrait of the prince in the main alcove. This interpretation is quite compelling (although occasionally overreaching), and for the first time offers a coherent reading of the series of fresco panels at Qusayr ‘Amra.

The argument of a coherent iconographic program is carried over into the ninth chapter. Here, Fowden argues that the frescos and buildings at Qusayr ‘Amra can only be understood once they are placed within the larger oeuvre of late antique and early Islamic culture. The book concludes with the suggestion that Qusayr ‘Amra is in many ways a mirror of Umayyad culture: a distinctly Arab blend of Greek, Roman, Christian, and Iranian ideals and mores. Even though the arguments presented in Qusayr ‘Amra are at times unsubstantiated and difficult to follow, Fowden’s contribution is invaluable. His impeccable research, his exhaustive analysis of both literary and visual material, and his imaginative approach illuminate the enigmatic buildings at Qusayr ‘Amra and the world of the Umayyads.