History turns the Hitlers of this world into monsters, and those who follow them into fools. But Hitler and Mussolini were real people once, and their admirers, some of them at least, hoped for a pleasant future, not an aftermath of terror. Charles Davis imagines the thoughts of an Irish art historian touring Italy’s galleries with these much-hated leaders, in a time before war, when folly was nothing more than amusing, and surely nothing could go so badly wrong. By chance, this hapless narrator might be photographed with the world’s greatest despots, and a viewer of that photo in later years might presume him similarly evil. But the story leading up to this picture is simultaneously frightening and ridiculous, as author Charles Davis imbues his narrator with a blistering, irreverent humor combined with achingly honest understanding.

Juxtaposing family and international disagreements, rebellions of the distant and more recent past, loves great and small, and cruelties great and imagined, the author brings eras and people to life, renders irreverent humor both hilarious and thought-provoking, and drags villains into the dust, thereby revealing the dust from which they arise. The narrator’s voice is completely convincing throughout. His predicament is sharply real. And his purpose is surprisingly simple and uncertain, bringing the reader ever closer to the multiple stings in the tale.

The author’s deep interest and research shine through the comedy and seriousness of this novel, making readers suspend disbelief only to find the facts prove hauntingly true. A tale of the past, for the present, touched by the in-between, Hitler, Mussolini and Me is constantly surprising, vividly painful, hilariously ridiculous, and a nightmarish good read.

Disclosure: I was given a preview edition by the publisher and I offer my honest review. ( )