The American Ambassador is at once a riveting tale of suspense and a thoughtful meditation on the fragility of Western values in an age of terrorism. William North is a Foreign Service officer who fiercely loves his family and his country. His son, brilliant and thoroughly disaffected, sees his f...
From one of our most critically acclaimed authors comes a masterly story of terrorism and revenge and one man’s attempts to extricate himself from his past. Thomas Railles, an American expatriate and former "odd-jobber" for the CIA, is a respected painter living with his beloved wife, Florette, ...
Though Ward Just has distinguished himself as a journalist, he has also produced an impressive body of fiction. As a novelist, he has been compared favorably with Ernest Hemingway. Much of his work centers around war—portrayed by the keen eye of a newsman—as is often true of Hemingway; however, h...
Here is Just's masterpiece - an epic chronicle of three generations of Washington power brokers and the womenfolk who loved them (except when they didn't). The Washington Post described this book as "a fascinating if ultimately painful fairy tale, complete with a family curse. The decline of the ...
There were tables and chairs under the trees and a dour concessionaire who sold coffee and croissants from a cart. Traffic was light. Lucia bought stationery at the shop on the corner and settled herself at one of the tables with her coffee and croissant, a sheet of blank white paper before her. ...
It was in a dangerous neighborhood but the room was perfect, solidly built, spacious, not soundproof but close enough. His neighbors were night people and rowdy at all hours and would not notice whatever noise he made. They made enough of their own. The basement's windows were curtained so that n...
She fell into the nearest chair and closed her eyes, her hands on her knees. She looked years older, her face swollen, her skin slack and without vitality. Consuela wore no makeup or jewelry and her black dress looked slept in. I wondered where she had been all this time. I said, Can I make you s...
He lay still, coming into consciousness, patient about it, listening to the unfamiliar sound of drizzle in the trees. The cat was asleep at the foot of the bed. Harry threw on a robe and crept downstairs, hearing Chopin. But the piano was unaccompanied. He continued on into the kitchen, where he ...
“On business,” he said, as if he were a bourgeois on a commercial journey to Leipzig or Prague. They stayed apart from the others in the house; at night her mother wept. Then one day she left the house earlier than usual and did not return that evening; there was no explanation. Her father was aw...