It is said that this book does not reconstruct the Diana accident. It doesn’t. It reconstructs what might not have been an accident if a sensitive, guilt ridden orphan named Samuel Carver (“Call me Carver”) who threatens to break pinkies had arranged for a car to blow up in a tunnel in Paris. Carver, like other orphans before him, is an idiota, an innocent. He does not know who it is he has killed. What does Carver know? He knows he was adopted by a middle-aged couple who didn’t love him and sent him off to boarding school when he was eight. He knows how to run and he knows how to shoot and he knows how to fall asleep in the arms of his executioner, demonstrating a disarmed and disarming new-man vulnerability. And finally, in front of the T.V. news, he knows how to cry…. Maybe, not.