On the terrace of an elaborate hilltop apartment overlooking a Central
American capital, four people sit making polite coversation. The
American couple - an elderly physician and his young wife - are
tourists. Their host, whom they have just met, is a young man of
striking good looks and charm. The girl, who is his mistress, is very
young and very beatufiul. Sitting there, with drinks in their hands,
watching the sunset, the Slades seem to be experienced in the sort of
fortunate chance encounter that travelers cherish. But amidst the
civilities and small talk, one remark proves prophetic. The host says to
the American woman: "It's not exactly what you think." Masterfully -
with the poetic control that has always characterized his work - Paul
Bowles leads the reader beneath the surface of hospitality and luxury
into a tortuous maze of human relationships and shifting moods, until
what seems at first a merely casual encounter is seen to be one rooted
in viciousness and horror.