David Annand in The Telegraph explains that by this Binet means a novel "that is constantly examining its own particular claim to truth". Not that Binet himself explains what it means in so many words; his "explanation" is scattered throughout the book as he argues with himself whether he's writing fiction, or an historical novel, or history, or whether his aim is to stick to just what he knows or whether he must invent some conversations (he does, and then admits to it).
The book's main focus is the World War 2 assassination attempt in Czechoslovakia on Reinhard Heydrich, the chief of the Nazi secret services, known variously as the "hangman of Prague," the "blond beast" and the "most dangerous man in the Third Reich." We discover early in the book that the assassination goes badly wrong, but what specifically happened is only discussed in detail in the last section of the book, when Binet finally brings himself to write about it in detail. (He also tells us how often he's put off writing this section.)
Through some 257 chapters (some no longer than a couple of sentences) Binet manages to keep us in suspense throughout the book as he delves into the background of the various actors in the drama, and offers a wide-ranging view of the events that finally unfold.
He does this in an intriguing way, making himself as much of a "character" as any of the other people he discusses. We never quite know whether his conversations with his girlfriend, or his other friends, are fact or fiction. And the same applies to the rest of the story: he gives the impression that he only wants to rely on what he knows happened, even to the extent of including recorded conversations, but he then tells us how often he's failed at his own intentions.
If this sounds tedious, it's not. The book is a remarkably good read, and Binet has researched to the extent of obsession (he tells us about that too). He certainly approaches the writing of the book in an unusual way, but his writing is at all times interesting, striking and, in spite of the grimness of the subject matter, often humorous. He's aided enormously in this by his translator, who presents the text in a way that makes the book appear to have been written in English in the first place.
I'm not a reader who enjoys World War 2 history, feeling as though we have been saturated with it for more than half a century, but this book was gripping enough not only to help me through a lengthy wait at the dental school but to stay up late to finish it.
• Mike Crowl is a Dunedin writer.
