A man enters a Nazi concentration camp in late 1944, as the Nazis grow desperate and the ghastly ovens work overtime. The man projects icy calmness and composure as he goes through the daily tasks of basic survival in this earthly Hell. Quickly he works his way into the power structure among the inmates, and clearly he has a mission and an agenda. But who is he? What does he want? For whom does he work? And, most importantly, why in the world would he willingly put himself into such an inconceivably abysmal place and position?

Andrew Salmon’s Light of Men, is an extremely well written, fascinating, and entertaining novel, and one that deserves to find an audience. But it is also a story that is extremely difficult to pin down, and to discuss.

The most important question the reader will be asking during the first two-thirds of the book is: What kind of a book is this? Is it science fiction? Is it fantasy? Is it a religious allegory? Is it simply a novel about the Holocaust, with no real supernatural or SF elements?

Even more disconcerting, one might begin to wonder, “Is this a science fiction or fantasy novel, but set in the heart of the Holocaust' Are you serious?!”

That’s the main difficulty in reviewing it. Because for the first two-thirds, the mysteries driving the story forward include: Where is it going? Who is Aaron, the protagonist, and what is he up to?

Of course, a variety of answers will inevitably pass through the mind of any fan of SF and fantasy, but for the longest time, there’s not enough evidence provided to make any sort of guess. Is Aaron a powerful religious figure, making this sort of a religious allegory? Is he a Superman-like alien or mutant, making this comic-bookish, like the part of the first X-Men movie with Magneto amidst the Nazis? Or is he a mortal man who happens to possess serene self-confidence as he moves inexorably toward the same fate as most of the other Jews in the camp?

That mystery is among the best parts of the book. When the answers finally begin to reveal, deep into the later stages of the story, some might argue they still come too soon. The book might have been better served by having the mysteries endure almost all the way to the last few pages.

By ending the mystery when he does, Salmon rolls the dice that, by this point, we are so caught up in the characters and the story and the writing in general that we will take the answer in stride and keep rolling along. We do, or at least I did; but it’s a considerable gamble, considering how powerful that mystery has become by that point.

Upon discovering Aaron’s secret, we receive clear-cut answers to the questions. Some will be excited by those answers, others disappointed. That’s inevitable with any book of this sort, where approximately two-thirds of the pages are devoted to building up a mystery. Readers tend to imagine their own conclusions and can be dispirited to discover that the author has gone in a different direction.

The story’s final chapters wrap things up in a more than satisfactory manner, given that one appreciates the author’s choice of where it's going to begin with.

Two other things drive the book relentlessly forward and must be mentioned. The strength and quality of Salmon’s writing, his characterizations of Aaron and his cohorts in the concentration camp, male and female, are powerful and compelling. The depth of the emotion and quiet desperation that emanates from each of the characters puts one in mind of Herman Wouk’s classic War and Remembrance, more than of any science fiction or fantasy work in particular. That adds to the aforementioned mystery: This does not read like a typical SF book.

Salmon clearly has invested enormous efforts into researching the intricacies of day-to-day life in a Nazi concentration camp. One thinks of the way James Clavell laid out the internal politics and peculiarities of Singapore’s Changi Prison in King Rat (both novel and film), with the exception that, unlike Clavell, Salmon did not live in a Nazi camp. His descriptions of life there are crisp, incredibly detailed, and utterly convincing.

This is an illustrated novel, and the Rob Davis art deserves a mention. Davis's impeccable sense of knowing which scenes to choose for illustration, how to render them, and how to generate a strong sense of emotion and connection to the narrative, remain as strong as ever.

This is not a cheerful book in any sense. It is about a concentration camp in Nazi Germany during the Holocaust, seen through the eyes of the inmates. There are scenes of brutal violence and horrifying misogyny. It is not a book to take to the beach or read on a family outing. This is a book of slow and steady power; a book to read late at night, in the dark, with the shades drawn and the mind at peace.

A reader’s appreciation of the story completely hinges upon one’s approval or disapproval of Salmon’s choices for the aforementioned questions about the story and Aaron. But the strength of Salmon’s writing and the power and precision of his details are enough to overcome any disappointment that might arise within the reader during those final pages.

This is a unique novel; parts of it can be compared with other stories in a variety of genres, including a couple I have omitted because they would reveal the secret.

I’ve never really encountered anything else like it out there.