Aminatta Forna's previous books are much concerned with civil war and the ways it warps conventional morality. They've been set in the Africa of her childhood, but this cool, cleaving novel takes place in contemporary Croatia.
It's narrated by a middle-aged survivor of no fixed intent, who begins a relationship with a visiting Englishwoman and her two teenage children.
Duro lives in a poster-pretty village: avenues of chestnuts; window boxes with geraniums; gardens full of roses. But he knows that the wildflowers over which Laura exclaims are the fruit of abandoned fields, an empty baker's shop ("the people went away") is a record of ethnic cleansing; a waitress' smile belies a history of bloodshed and revenge; the natural predators in nearby woods seem merciful beside those who recently prowled local streets.
He's courteous, thoughtful, perceptive, lethal, ready at any moment to revert to the hunter he once was. Compared to him, the English visitors are milky, "enjoying the luck of the innocent".
To them, the past which emerges in concealed mosaics, hidden wells, and the Blue House where they stay, is picturesque and charming.