'Can one be an insider in international affairs—or does being international condemn one to a kind of permanent outside, even within one’s original nation? This question may not be at the top of most people’s list of priorities, unless you are Edith Campbell Berry in Frank Moorhouse’s Grand Days, his novel from 1993 set in Geneva in the 1920s—or me as a Dane teaching anglophone postcolonial literatures in present-day Geneva. For Edith it is an urgent matter of identity; for me more an intriguing balancing act where identity (which I really don’t understand or approve of, anyway) for all practical purposes gives way to finesse. Or for both of us, a balancing act of survival in a situation where inside and outside are completely imbricated in each other, yet still active as opposites.' (Introduction)
Moorhouse 'muses on the aesthetics of martini lore ... and the nature of drinking.' He also 'reflects on the role of the martini in his own life in prose as dry and intoxicating as the martini itself.'
Source: Random House website, http://www.randomhouse.com.au/WEB_ASP/ttle_detail.asp?isbn=1740513126