Foreign Parts

``Cassie and Rona/Rona and Cassie have eaten sandwiches in Amsterdam and Gouda, Copenhagen, York, Warsaw, Munich and Lerwick... It's what we always do. We get no richer, no more sophisticated, no more included.'' Cassie and Rona, two 40-ish, single Scotswomen take a trip to France. Simple enough. But what Galloway uncovers through following their often hellish tour is the rawness of an individual out of context, the need for the familiar and the facts of friendship. Capturing the tawdriness and petty humiliations possible en route, Galloway's tumultuous, evocative prose is interrupted by the banal exhortations of a guide book (``Car drivers should NOT MISS the opportunity of driving through the beautiful, winding roads of the Layon Valley'') and by Cassie's slide show as she describes photographs of past trips and the men who dominated them. Ultimately, however, travel is a backdrop for a sharp, funny, tender but never maudlin dissection of what it means to be friends. It's not that Rona and Cassie don't get on each others nerves, but there is equality, caring, everyday kindness, patience and loyalty that neither woman has found with men. ``You only get the one shot at things and men use up too much energy,'' says Rona. ``Dependencies build up, then the power games: the moral blackmail, the intellectual blackmail, the guilt, the guilt--it goes on forever.'' (Sept.)