A 1949 novel of an American couple discovering the North African desert by a writer who, for all his depiction of this setting as alien and hostile, famously fell in love with the region and lived there for half a century. Porter (“Port”) and Katherine (“Kit”) Moresby are independently wealthy types traveling the world as tourism takes off again after the destruction of World War II, and in spite of all the adventure, they are unable to restore the missing spark to their marriage. Traveling them is their friend Tunner, who seeks to bed Kit in spite of his loyalty to Port.

Were the novel only a depiction of this love triangle, it wouldn’t be particularly memorable, and indeed the first half of the book, though smooth and fast reading, doesn’t promise much. But wow does this book take a sudden curve about halfway through into Cormac McCarthyesque death and a fantastical arrival in the Sahel. I see this novel as flawed by the inconsistent attention paid to description – Bowles often glosses over events that other writers would bother fleshing out, and these characters hardly have back stories – but I nevertheless enjoyed reading it and found the ending satisfying.