Furst is the greatest of today's atmospheric spy writers. His books feature reluctant spies, usually of the left, brought into intrigues thanks to the rise or rule of Nazi Germany. The plots are often languorously described and sometimes fall away at then, Furst it seems is more interested in how his characters deal with their terrible situations than in the situations themselves. He will therefore disappoint readers hoping for a tightly plotted thriller. If you want exquisite descriptions of a world gone by, he is your man.

In this book, set in Poland, just before the war, a French military officer takes an attache position, with the attendant espionage role. He doesn't like it, disliking the work and the agents he runs. Much of the plot involves an imperfect agent in the person of a lumpish German businessman. Ensnared by a Polish beauty he now provides secrets to the French. In a wonderful train scene, the agent's fearful reaction to a standard police check leads to his becoming an object of interest for the authorities. The Frenchman's need to protect the agent creates the main tension of the tale, such as it exists.

Furst gives you style. A smoky, decadent, fear-laden style that provides gorgeous images and terrifying examples of what people are willing to do to one another. I haven't liked some of his recent books, but this one felt like a return to form. Don't expect thrills, in fact, Furst seems to tell us that the world of espionage is one of frustration and disappointment rather than adventure.