A young FX specialist escapes from his old life to an alien culture. Gradually drawn into the culture's enigmatic ways, he makes contact with an exotic but sexually willing female. Their relationship blossoms, then dies. He is left with a new understanding, not only into the alien culture but also into himself.

Paradigmatic science fiction! Except, of course, I am deliberately misleading you.

'FX' is short for Foreign Exchange (not the more usual modern contraction meaning 'effects', or special effects) and our hero is an overpaid yuppie currency dealer from Washington DC. Quite a sympathetic character he is, too, which is something of an achievement. The alien culture is present-day Venice, sinking, stinking, muddy, floody, endlessly bewitching and beautiful. The female is ... well, she's the reason for the novel: she's as eternal as the city of Rome, as gorgeous as Venice itself, and probably almost as old as either of them.

Girardi's novel is readable, expertly written and involving from beginning to end. I liked almost everything about it, as you have no doubt guessed. The sense of Venice as a real place is almost palpable: after a bit you hear dripping noises and smell rotting timber wherever you go. Either the author has lived in Venice through a couple of winters, or he has done consummate research. It doesn't matter which, because this is a novel not a travelogue.

While reading it I saw Woody Allen in his film about touring with a jazz band, Wild Man Blues. Seasick in a slowly drifting gondola, Allen describes the experience as an authentic white-knuckle ride. He could have been talking about Girardi's novel, but probably wasn't.