The book centers around Ben Clayton, an unlikely hero who’s given up success in the boxing ring to become an engineer. When a friend and fellow worker is killed in a suspicious accident, Ben is drawn into an international maelstrom that the reader knows will eventually erupt into World War II. Most of the characters are in denial about the threat of another war, since they are still exhausted by the last one. The reader’s knowledge adds another level of tension—and realism—to the story.

The best historical fiction overlays a small world story onto real life events. It’s easy to imagine Ben and his long time girlfriend Lucy making their way along the Hamble waterfront, and equally easy to imagine Ben getting talked into a trip to Germany with the sleek and fancy Anna. So easy that I continued to picture scenes in my head, long after I’d finished reading.

Chisnell is a sailor, but this book requires no boating knowledge of any sort. Waterfront scenes will be easily understood, even by those who don’t care to know the difference between “bow” and “stern.”

The one thing that distracted me from the story (maybe because my European History degree is a few decades old) was the difficulty I had keeping track of everyone’s loyalties. But that also plays into the multi-layered mystery of this book; no one is quite who he or she seems to be—except our main character. Ben Clayton grounds this book with a gritty straightforward honor, and even though he seems to get himself into trouble a bit more often than he should, he never lets the reader down.

Anyone who likes thrillers, historical fiction, or The Riddle of the Sands will enjoy this book. Do yourself a favor and find a way to balance real life with The Fulcrum Files; you won’t regret it.

I’ve also tried to justify it as a sleep-aid, but that must be averaged out with the many nights a good story has kept me up past my usual bedtime.  So it was last week with “The Sea and the Silence,” Peter Cunningham’s just-published novel about the life of an Irish woman who comes of age during the 1940’s.

I was initially drawn to the book by the lovely cover.  Sparse and lovely, not overdone or flashy like most covers these days.  And who can resist a woman eyeing a lighthouse in the distance?

The next attraction was the word “sea” in the title. Now I’ve been suckered before into buying books by some casual reference to ocean and coast, only to be disappointed by a complete lack of watery atmosphere inside.  In “The Sea and the Silence,” those two elements form a misty ever-present background, achieving importance by remaining mostly out of reach.

I’m also a sucker for historical novels, but I’ve learned that fictionalized history alone is not enough to keep me reading; the story must stand on its own. Cunningham’s lean prose drew me into Iz’s world and showed me a newly independent Ireland.  My ignorance of Irish politics made it possible to take the story as it came, with no preconceived historical notions.  And Iz provided plenty of perspective anyway, since these pages were written on her deathbed.

I won’t spoil the plot for you; this one has to be digested page by page to be completely appreciated. But I will tell you that the seemingly casual structure (a solicitor reading pages left behind after death) brings a new depth to the story.  Without seeming to interfere at all, Cunningham allows us to see only what is necessary to move the story forward.  We get tempting glimpses of the surprising conclusion that tease but never quite satisfy.

I often find endings disappointing, for several reasons.  First and foremost, I seldom want to let go of a character after sharing such intimacies for 250 pages.  Beyond that, a satisfying conclusion that is neither trite nor predictable requires great skill and a gentle touch.  Cunningham has created a ending that felt very natural and satisfied my curiosity, without tying up all the ends too neatly.

The author lives in a coastal Irish town on which the fictional town of Monument is based.  He even (yes!) provides a map that, rather surprisingly, does not reference the lighthouse where much of the book takes place. But if I weren’t in the process of deciding what to include in the frontmatter of my own book, I wouldn’t have even noticed that omission. Through the ears of Iz, I have already heard the pulse of waves beating against a shore that will be so very hard for her to leave.

Obviously I would recommend this book to anyone interested in 20th century Ireland and anyone who loves the coast. I would further encourage those who appreciate the details and structure that together build a satisfying novel to dive into the world of Iz.  She and her creator, Peter Cunningham, will not disappoint.