The Orientalist by Tom Reiss (Random House, $14.95)

I’ve just read a fascinating and informative book called The Orientalist by Tom Reiss. In one way it’s a literary detective story like A. J. A. Symons’s The Quest for Corvo or Hugh Trevor-Roper’s Hermit of Peking, where a determined biographer works backward from a startling written work to track down its disguised or obscured author.

In the case of The Orientalist the novel that piqued Reiss’s interest was a romance of the Caucasus called Ali And Nino by one Kurban Said, allegedly a Muslim prince. Kurban Said proves to be also known as Essad Bey, the author of several popular travel books and biographies. But, as Reiss discovers, behind all these veils stands a man born Lev Nussimbaum, a Russian Jew.

But solving the mystery of his identity doesn’t end the fascination surrounding Nussimbaum because, although he was not born a Moslem or a prince, he was lucky or unlucky enough to be present at some of the most crucial moments of twentieth century history. He was, in fact, from the Caucasus, born in 1905 in the city of Baku, an oil rich fringe of the Czar’s empire, which he presented later (mostly truthfully it seems) as an ideal multi-cultural land where Jews, Muslims, Armenians and various tribal entities co-existed in peaceful, funky harmony, far enough from Moscow to escape most imperial interference.

All that changed when the Bolshevik revolution arrived, unleashing a storm of haphazard executions and releasing the pent up energies of sectarian strife. Lev’s idyllic home became a charnel house as successive forces gained the upper hand in an endless cycle of slaughter and retribution.

Nussimbaum and his father fled to Constantinople, where the ancient Islamic Caliphate was on its last legs and European influence and "modernization" were to change the Muslim world for ever, creating enmities which still survive.

Next Lev landed in Berlin, just in time to witness the Nazi’s rise to power and descent to savagery. His pose of Moslem aristocracy became at one a way to distinguish himself from all the other Russian refugees, an expression of his nostalgia for his birthplace, and, increasingly, a disguise to obscure his now dangerous Jewishness.

Finally, in a depressing coda, he fled to Italy, where he was know as "The Muslim" and died a slow, painful death from a rare, debilitating disease.

What’s compelling about the book is not only Reiss’s detective work and the inherent drama of Naussimbaum’s life, but also his deft analysis of the political situation and history in each of the places Lev touches down, all whom resonate in the present day. Unfortunately all these lessons of history shine a cruel light on the ignorant and frankly evil policies of the Bush administration, a group who hold their "faith" above history, and have reaped the whirlwind as a result.

But we’ll get to that tomorrow. See you then.

Yr Pal,

UBU