An atmospheric and rather curious story set on an Aegean island in 1908 that is part of the dying Ottoman empire, this is the sixth book I have read from the 1980 Booker shortlist, and in such a strong year it is probably the least impressive. Unsworth has written better books, notably Morality Play and his Booker winner Sacred Hunger.

The narrator Basil Pascali is a paid informer for the Ottomans, but this post is insufficient to sustain him and his pay has not increased in the 20 years he has been on the island, which makes him susceptible to various intrigues and petty acts of larceny. The book takes the form of his reports, but it gradually becomes clear that he does not believe these reports have any meaning, and he freely admits that he embellishes what he writes. The action starts when an Englishman, Bowles, arrives on the island seeking to explore an archaeological site. In this story nothing is quite what it seems, and nobody comes out of it with much credit, which makes it symbolic of the world of diplomacy before the First World War. Although it has some nice touches and a few memorable moments, the ending was too melodramatic for my liking. ( )

A remarkable study of paranoia, supplication, and weakness--hardly the usual stuff of novels, especially historical ones. But Unsworth pulls off quite a feat here. His narrator, Basil Pascali, is a spy. Not your ordinary spy, though. He's an informant for the Ottoman Empire, stationed on a remote Greek island in 1908, when the Ottomans are in terminal decline. Nonetheless, he dutifully pens his observations to the Ottoman Emperor himself--the "Lord of the world" and "shadow of God on earth"--observations he can make because no one takes him seriously (he's described somewhat mockingly to his face as "one of the fixtures of the island"). Is the Ottoman Emperor himself reading any of this? Of course not. It's all terribly pathetic. But then, just as he becomes convinced his cover has been blown, a charming Englishman arrives and steals the heart of the woman he's been eyeing, setting off quite the dark game between the two.

This is a wonderful example of an unsympathetic unreliable narrator--a smarmy self-aggrandizing nobody who nonetheless grabs hold of your attention through his sheer need to tell his story, and his elegant mastery of prose and plot. ( )

Read during Spring 2004

This is one of my favorite movies and it was interesting to see how faithful an adaption it was. It was hard not to see the scenes in my head. The novel is written entirely as a letter by Pascali to the Emperor of the Ottman Empire, his employeer, in a sense, as a spy for the Empire. This style works much better than I would have expected but falters a bit at the end. Overall, it is extremely well-written and feels like a series of letters or journals. The writing in introspective and vauge at times but in a way that makes me think.

Definitely not the right time to read this book. It take the reader into the ranting, paranoia and mind of a spy of a crumbling empire. I think I just had too much going on to give it its due. I've read to Unsworth previously. One I loved. One I just wondered, "Why is this in print? It is just dull and silly." Hope one day to pick this up again when I'm in the mood for some nothing-to-crazy madness. :-( ( )

I did not enjoy this book nearly as much as Sacred Hunger. I found it well, frankly boring, and the movie was even worse. ( )