Thomas Keneally, author of Schindler's List, has written another riveting tale of historical significance.

Though The Tyrant's Novel is officially fiction, the unnamed tyrant in the tale bears a remarkable resemblance to Saddam Hussein. Keneally admits as much in his acknowledgments, where he credits the inspiration for the novel to Mark Bowden's Tales of the Tyrant, an article published in the Atlantic Monthly in May 2002. Bowden's article reveals the details of the former Iraqi leader's life: his multiple palaces, his grand titles (Glorious Leader, President of Iraq, Great Uncle), his vanity and his terrifying brutality.

The tyrant in Keneally's tale, dubbed "Great Uncle," shares many traits with Saddam. They both are fans of the Godfather films, Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea, and they both are students of Joseph Stalin. They also aspire to be writers.

In fact, Saddam has written several romantic fables. The Daily Telegraph, a newspaper in Calcutta, India, printed an interview on Dec. 17, 2003, with the wife of a writer who contributed to Saddam's first novel.

She recalled how he was summoned from his job one morning and told he had three days to produce a book from the president's notes. She reported, "He stood in the hallway sweating. He said 'our uncle' had given him a special task."

This is basically the premise to Keneally's novel. In it, the protagonist, Alan Sheriff, tells of his conscription by the tyrant of his country, Great Uncle. "I want you to do me a favor, Alan. I want you to do, that is, the state a favor . . . In four months the G-7 (group of seven world power leaders) meet in Montreal. My plan is to release a book in New York at that time, published by a bona fide publisher, bearing my name, which displays to the world the suffering of my people, and their patriotic inventiveness in the face of sanctions." This book, he tells Alan, must be completed in one month.

"Flabbergasted," Alan says, "I came close, but not close enough, to suggesting he might as well use his pistol on me right now. A masterwork can't be written in a month."

The premise is gripping. And the reality even more so. The contributor to Saddam's first novel turned up dead, as 250,000 copies of his book were being distributed. His wife told The Daily Telegraph that she believed he was killed to cover up his role in the book.

In Keneally's novel, Alan Sherrif has nothing to lose. His wife has recently and suddenly died from a cerebral aneurysm. Swept up in a wave of shock and grief, Alan has been on the brink of suicide. It doesn't matter to him if he kills himself or if Great Uncle kills him.

But there is a catch. In the world of tyrants, it's not only your own life that is threatened, but the lives of your family and close friends as well. If Alan does not come up with a suitable novel in 30 days, his friend, Matt McBrien, who's been promoted to the position of Cultural Commissioner, will also take responsibility.

In a vivid example of possible consequences, Alan receives a letter from an exiled friend, a writer who escaped the country, presumably after having been asked to accomplish the same task. The friend reports that soon after arriving safe in Germany, a box was delivered to him. He opened it to find something "indistinct encased in bubble wrap. I undid the bubble wrap with some disquiet, because the object within seemed messy. It was the head of Charlie McKay, my former file manager from the Cultural Commission."

Keneally does a brilliant job illustrating the terror of living under the Tyrant's rule. He describes the uncertain affluence of those in the upper echelons of the government, men like Charlie McKay, who live in large government homes and drive shiny black cars, but often pay with their lives.

He also illustrates the plight of the general population, suffering under the double whammy of foreign sanctions and the corruption of Great Uncle. "One day soon the West will invade us over our chemical and germ weapons, and the sins of certain of our people. In the meantime we can't make enough chlorine to treat our drinking water . . . And the children thirsty from their play, drink the water, direct from the pipe at the end of the street . . . Typhoid, cholera, dysentery . . . What do children think of any of that? They know only about thirst."

One of the few weaknesses of the story is Keneally's decision to have Alan narrate the tale from a foreign refugee detainment center - so we know from the beginning that Alan escapes the tyrant's rule.

Though this fact detracts somewhat from the suspense, what is hard to believe is that Alan is left to rot in the detainment center, lamenting his tale, one he describes as "the saddest and silliest you would ever hear." He is supposed to be a world-renowned writer with a $40,000 advance contract with Random House.

Even so, The Tyrant's Novel reads like a fascinating combination of hard-boiled detective story and a Milan Kundera novel. The gritty realism, rising tension and stifling oppression come together in unexpected ways.

Though Keneally reveals from the beginning that Alan doesn't die, his narrative is still incredibly gripping, probably because there's more than a grain of historical truth to it.

Ashley Simpson Shires is a freelance writer from Boulder.