I’ve long enjoyed Nick Bantock’s work, and appreciated his way of creating complex visual and literary colleges with overlapping meanings and unusual connections. The Egyptian Jukebox was his first post Griffin and Sabine book, and I think it misses the mark. The ten drawers of the jukebox are beautifully composed, and the stories are haunting little snapshots, but I felt like there was a disconnect. Sure, an object from the stories appears in each of the drawers, and one can deduce where most of the others relate, but this felt more like a collection of short stories (and had it been packaged that way I think I would have enjoyed it more) than a complete work. Moreover, the mystery felt confusing, overly complicated and forced, and the plot, what that it was, didn’t make any sense. Man who is wealthy and travels vanishes. Instead of waiting for him to return, his daughter publishes a book with the clues he left to find out where he is. Read the book, have someone else explain how to connect the dots they made, and come up with a random city name, which I comfort myself in being a bizarre pop-culture reference (rather than actually making sense). Enjoy the short stories, look at the pictures, ignore the clues.