More Summer Reading

Well, my summer reading is not as noble as the Doc's. Last Friday I returned to Our Native Land after four years of living in the United Kingdom. In the intervening days I have been devouring books as if there is no tomorrow–and who's to say that there is? Anyway, half of what I have read has been historical fiction. I have been trying to find authors of historical fiction who have the art and vesimilitude of Patrick O'Brian, he who authored the magnificent Aubrey-Maturin series; or, more properly, roman a fleuve, for it is one long 20 volume novel.

My contenders for the crown are headed by Alan Furst, who if nothing else writes the finest spy novels ever. Forget Le Carré; he's a poser. Furst has the real stuff. All of his stories are set from about 1935 to 1945, most of them just a year after the beginning of the war. His characters are dispossesed and nationless Eastern Europeans looking for something to believe after twenty years of believing lies. And above all, he writes with such elegance, such vividness, that reading his novels is an almost tactile experience. I highly recommend him.