Some people came into the bookstore to ask about “a mountain-climbing book” that involved assassins. “You mean The Eiger Sanction?” I asked, and they practically jumped up and down. “Yes! That’s it!”
As it turned out, I didn’t have The Eiger Sanction in the fiction room, but we ended up talking about Shibumi, Trevanian’s farewell to the superspy genre, and the utter lameness of the news that somebody had been hired to write either a prequel or a sequel. (Since Nicholai Hel isn’t in the happiest of situations at the end of the book, I assume Satori will be a prequel. That title doesn’t inspire a whole lot of confidence, I must say.) I managed to interest them in checking out Trevanian’s fifth novel, The Summer of Katya, a pre-WWI love story with a macabre final act that would have done Daphne du Maurier proud, and his last one, The Crazyladies of Pearl Street, a collection of vignettes about Depression-era life in an upstate New York town. I was on my way to the back room when the alarm went off.