The Skin (New York Review Books Classics)
The author buries himself in the bleakness of Naples, transformed by defeat into an open-air market of duplicity, prostitution, and half-interred bodies, all of it overseen by Americans who in their star-spangled naivete never completely understand exactly why they are there. [...] InThe Skinhe acheived a work of incredible artifice more solid than a house. The novel still reads like a noble attempt to render an ignoble moment without pity. —Eric Banks