This was a nice literary mystery/speculative fiction, but left me wanting somehow. It's not that this book was not good, more that my expectations were too high. I loved reading about New York City in wartime-- it was a nice history lesson, and, having recently been to the city, made the places easy to recall. (In fact, it's one of those books I wish I'd read before my visit, so that I could look at places in modern day and say, "ah ha! I see!") I think the world of Danziger, the letter writer, also held a fascination for me because of my heritage, and my family that had to flee Europe before and during WWII. I think part of my feeling unfulfilled had to do with wanting more of that world. Woodrow Cain, the policeman from small town North Carolina, now in the big city, who ends up working with Danziger, was a sympathetic character, too, but his story doesn't touch mine quite as much. But Dan Fesperman's writing was engaging, and all I can say is the fault is mine, not his in the telling of this tale.