London begins with an interesting idea: a man visits his cousin in Australia in 1937, taking his boon companion with him. They dazzle the cousin and her sister with tales of the world, including the story of Gilgamesh a tale of love and adventure. Shortly before the two men leave, the cousin gets pregnant. After the birth of her child, she decides to go on a quest to find the child's father and to relive the Gilgamesh adventure.

I thought it would be more than romantic drivel. I was wrong. At every stage in the trip, the cousin makes terrible decisions for no good reason. Nothing she does makes sense. Her actions serve only to get her and her child stranded in Armenia just as the world explodes in war, where, of course, they must be rescued. Bah.