Forgetfulness, Just - B+

            The author was a war correspondent for the Washington Post during Vietnam, and later a successful novelist. He was a contemporary of LeCarre, and although not in that class, he seems, in this fifteen-year old novel, to have reached some of the same cynical conclusions about western, particularly American, imperialism. "The tone of the reports suggested an America exclusive of  other nations, a remote empire on a fabulous continent that worshipped a benevolent god and fortified itself in order to remain apart, a garrison state exempt from natural law and under the special protection of a watchful providence." That sentence could have been written by either. The book came up on my radar when the WSJ's quirky Saturday book section included it in a five best spy novels list. Not sure I'd rate it that high, but I certainly recommend it.

            The story is mostly about reflection and memories in that world. Thomas was never really in it, but rather spent his entire life painting and moving around, having finally settled down in the French Pyrenees with Florette. They were happily married, he in his mid-60's, and she a decade younger. Their life was quite remote, and far from the modern world. He occasionally had visitors, two childhood friends from Wisconsin, who were in that world as older, but still active, members of the CIA.  They were with him one afternoon having a few drinks when Florette went out for a hike, broke her ankle on the mountain, and was found the next day. She had probably frozen to death, but it did look like her last moments were hastened by a quick knife cut. As Thomas dealt with her death, his friends had French authorities find the men who had been with her.  The men were Moroccans on their way to Amsterdam to spread terror and death in the name of Allah. The book is uniquely thoughtful and contemplative.