Ambrose’s sixth novel, published in Europe in 2000, gives new meaning to the phrase “living a rich fantasy life.” Readers will leave the novel knowing less about what’s going on then they did when they began it, and thy won’t mind a bit. This book, about a man who might be a superspy, or perhaps he’s a clinic-bound mental patient, is a dazzling performance, a story that seems to be one thing, then turns into something else, then doubles back on itself, then stampedes off in an entirely unexpected, and bizarre direction. At its center is Charlie Monk, a government agent whose life seems to be a series of life-and-death episodes-unless, as Charlie discovers, he’s only imaging his life. This novel is mind-grabbingly elegant, a symphony of ideas that never, ever does what we expect it to. Propelled by its cast of characters, including Dr. Susan Flemyng (who is ether Charlie’s friend or enemy depending on the scene you’re reading) and Latimer West (who may or may not be a supervision), and by Ambrose’s immense storytelling skills, the novel gets fast, gets faster, and soon has us holding on for dear life. And when the story comes to its crashing finale, we sit there, blinking, wondering what just happened here. And who the heck is Charlie Monk ?

Only a few people know who Charlie monk really is. Is he, as Monk himself believes, a highly trained government hit man? Or is he merely the laboratory fodder of scientists conducting mind control experiments ? Ambrose, who has previously dabbled in such reality benders (Coincidence etc), handles this one with confidence, twisting the plot gently at first, then with a hard, satisfying crank towards the end. In between government hits, Monk leads a casual life in Los Angeles partaking in the usual pleasures sought by virile young men. Meanwhile, in Washington D.C, Dr Susan Flemying toils away on the leading edge of her specialty: replacing visual memory in the mind of amnesia victims. She is doing so, however, under duress. A secret government organization has kidnapped her son and won’t give him back unless she oversees several experiments. Monk, it turns out, is one of them. Ambrose has several surprises in store, including government planners who want to create a fighting force of warriors with human intelligence and simian brawn. Monk figures out much of what is going on, and he doesn’t drag his knuckles in seeking vengeance. Featuring an intriguing castoff characters who never turn out to be quite what they seem, this latest from Ambrose provides several hours of exhilarating diversion and a scary glimpse of scientific possibilities.

The Great Ambrose returns (Superstition, 1998) for another paranormal thriller that may lack the philosophical darkness of Philip K. Dick but has all of Dick's endless identity inversions and reversals. Reader Warning: This novel may be unreviewable without giving away plot turns that the normal (or unprofessional) reader would want to know. The title refers to Louis Bunuel’s strange and seductively surreal The Discrete Charm of the Bourgeoisie, about a group of fashionables who mill around a dining room, try to sit down to dinner, and never make it, though all Ambrose takes from that movie are Bunuel’s strangeness and surrealismo. James Bond can take a backseat to Charlie Mon, who has the fluidity and speed of a dreamBond. In fact, for a while, the reader wonders at the outrageous abilities of Monk – an agent for a governmental organisation so secret that it doesn’t exist – as when he brings off supremely dangerous and difficult missions with dreamlike ease. As in Dick’s Blade Runner, we wonder as well if Monk’s childhood memories haven’t been implanted: he has such difficulty bringing some of them back to mind, especially the face of beloved fellow orphan Kathy. Even so, when off-mission for long periods, Charlie beds an endless stable of beauties (sometimes two at once), drives his Porsche, and paints landscapes that a strange little dealer buys by the vanload. The reader keeps thinking that this is really unreal. Deathproof Charlie, is he superhuman ? or just inhuman ? We’re not saying. But the paranormal side of the story turns on Virtual Reality implants that restore perhaps fake memory, and these draw from experiments by Dr Susan Flemying, whose husband has been murdered in a superbly described decrepit Siberia. Midway through the story, Monk’s secret aspect is revealed, and there’s no turning back for Charlie or the reader.

Another all-nighter whose thinly real opening half sets up a dumfounding series of payoffs.

Master secret agent Charlie Monk is a lean, mean killing machine, fearless in executing his bloody missions, irresistible to the ladies, an accomplished painter of "partly abstract" nature scenes.

Charlie has this problem: he can't remember much of his childhood before being sent to "the Farm," where he'd been trained as an efficient and effective one man execution squad. Everything after "the Farm" he remembers in color; everything prior he recalls in black and white. He is haunted by the memory of his first love and troubled that he is unable to picture her face.

Or is Charlie merely an imaginary alter ego of Brian Kay, a neurological patient of Dr. Susan Flemyng, a specialist in cutting edge visual memory restoration and simulation?

Welcome to the clever funhouse of David Ambrose's "The Discrete Charm of Charlie Monk," the most entertaining book you will read this year.

Fans of Philip K. Dick will find a kindred spirit in Ambrose, who, like Dick, questions the nature of reality and human consciousness.

Where Dick's work often mirrored the author's paranoia, however, Ambrose's carries no such personal baggage. He's simply fascinated with exploring the great questions of life we've all had since childhood: Who am I? Who are you? Where are we? And how do I know?

Word of caution: do not research this book online. Like "The Sixth Sense" and "Memento," knowing too much ahead of time will spoil this year's most enjoyable reading surprise.