I was thrilled when I learned that Alan Furst had written a new novel. I soak up everything he writes. In my view, he stands alongside John Le Carre and Robert Ludlum as a master in weaving together tales of espionage in the pre-WWII and post-WWII worlds of intrigue, mystery and danger.
For previous White Rhino Report reviews of other Furst novels, follow this link:
Furst paints with a dark palette of words and images, and the worlds and characters that he creates are all the more intriguing because of the chiaroscuro of his world view and descriptions. I marvel at the skill and artistry with which he sets the scene of the building storm clouds of war that were gathering over
“In the dying light of an autumn day in 1937, a certain Herr Edvard Uhl, a secret agent, descended from a first-class railway car in the city of
The book continues by laying out a masterful saga of how those gathering storm clouds impacted the micro-climate of a small band of Polish, French and Russian characters all trying to find shelter from the coming storm and storm troopers.
May God grant Alan Furst the strength and health and imagination to continue offering these kinds of compelling tales well into the next several decades.