This book concerns blood, or rather how we have allowed our notions of blood to determine our cruel actions towards others. It is a book not to be read lightly, nor for those with a weak stomach. It is book full of compassion and wisdom. It is a story that spans centuries, countries, fates, and yet is tersely written, no wasted description, no loss of pace. It ties together the fates of the Jews and the blacks in a way that is moving and plausible. The coda set in modern day Israel brings together the thematic threads - showing too that the Promised Land is not so perfect either; not all the promise was fulfilled. I wept in the Holocaust scenes: the style becomes indirect, impersonal, terribly frank. I have read the same (or similar) elsewhere, but the shock never diminishes. This is a book that should be read because it has real moral force, it has seriousness. It is not (like so much modern fiction) merely a story for its own sake, a tale to shock or provoke, shruggingly amoral, but is clearly and yet poetically telling us about the way we are, the way we think. It is saying: look, this is what the Venetians did to the Jews, how they justified their persecution, this is what the Germans did, what next? And it is also saying: look, yesterday's war heroes are lonely and wistful. No action, no matter how heroic, no decision no matter how right, is without a certain price to be paid. There is much here (historically) that one already knows, but the seriousness and the power of the writing, the structure, the poignancy and the truth of the book: all this is Phillips' achievement.