It’s a bravura performance in which war becomes farce, history becomes burlesque. Apostol thrusts us into a vertiginous narrative of “stories within stories within stories,” as the novel itself, in one of countless meta moments, has it. Another: “It will be set in 1901, or maybe 1972, or maybe 2018. … There will be unapologetic uses of generic types, actors with duplicating roles. Anachronisms, false starts, scarlet clues, a noirish insistence on the pathetic pursuit of human truths will pervade its miserable (quite thin) plot, and while the mystery will seem unsolved, to some it will provide the satisfaction of unrelieved despair.”