Zanzibar, by Giles Foden

An explosive African novel about al-Qa'ida

"If the main threat to world peace is to emerge out of Islam, at least let's understand it," says the American agent Jack Queller in Giles Foden's new novel. Indeed, "understanding" is not only Queller's creed, but perhaps also the aim of a novel that has as its focus the al-Qa'ida attacks in 1998 on the American embassies in Dar es Salaam and Nairobi. The book follows, with some sympathy, Khaled al-Khidr, a young Zanzibari drawn into the al-Qa'ida network and tapped for his local knowledge by the cell carrying out the Dar attack.

Also drawn unwittingly into the preparations are Miranda Powers, a security adviser at the Dar embassy, and Nick Karolides, a young American conservationist in Zanzibar to protect coral reefs. He visits the small, Edenic offshore island of Lyly and is intoxicated by its reefs, its wildlife and its air of peace. However, soon there are serpents in Eden, in the form of Khaled and his terrorist group.

Zanzibar has the plot, if not the pace, of a thriller (though there is a concluding chase scene that could easily come out of a Bond film). Although it will inevitably be classed as a "book about al-Qa'ida terrorism", this is actually very much an African novel, like Foden's earlier work. Foden has lived in Africa and has a gift for sensual, descriptive prose that conveys vividly (for example) steamy tropical vegetation and fetid city squalor.

His languorous evocation of prelapsarian Lyly contrasts with the reportage-style account of the Dar embassy bombing. Here, Foden relies heavily on quoting TV coverage by channels such as CNN. In the time-honoured tradition of the serious historical novel, whose conventions Zanzibar fulfils, we encounter Osama bin Laden himself once or twice. Foden has given a stagey but eerie feel to these scenes, strangely reminiscent of the posed-looking Bin Laden videos familiar from news bulletins.

Foden was, it seems, in Zanzibar at the time of the embassy bombings. And, more recently, he was putting the finishing touches to this novel at the time of the World Trade Centre attacks. No doubt the book's emphases have been altered in the light of the latter atrocity, but the question must be asked: is literary fiction an appropriate forum for addressing these issues? Should such plots not simply be left to thriller-writers?

The answer, perhaps, lies in Queller, an unusually cerebral agent and the soul of the novel. Queller, we learn, is a veteran of the days when Bin Laden was an American protégé, but also, long before his peers, he learnt about the dangers posed by the man. Queller, however, has a wide knowledge of (and respect for) Islamic culture and he is distrusted by his colleagues for his dodgy habits – such as regular meditation. He is a symbol of the need for mutual understanding and dialogue.

Zanzibar is just a novel, not a statement of truth. It doesn't have all the answers, nor will a reading provide understanding on its own. But, for many readers, it will stimulate a desire to understand; which alone would make it a worthy addition to the millions of words already written under the shadow of 11 September 2001.