I finished reading Jackals by Charles Grant today. I’m also in the process of whittling down a novelette to short story length (to tighten the prose and open it to more markets), and trying to pare down a 500 page novel to something more manageable. It struck me that it takes courage to write as spare as Grant did. To let the reader be the co-writer of the piece. I need to have more faith in the reader.
I loved JACKALS, and found it an unusual book for Grant. RAVENS is another one in that vein, though he certainly ratcheted up the atmopshere in the latter book.
The atmosphere in Jackals is more dense, I believe, because the location is so isolated. Grant was a true master; I only wish I had discovered his work years earlier. I must rectify that. Luckily, there are dozens of books to catch up on.