6 October 2016

The Falcon Flies Alone by Gabrielle Mathieu

I took some time reading this book. It wasn’t the book’s fault; it was my lack of time. During those breaks, the book’s disconcerting theme stayed with me. The author had created a sense of foreboding, akin to a thought that leaves a bad taste. I just couldn’t bear not to discover the outcome – no matter how awful it might be.

I found myself wrong-footed several times. In my mind I was seeing a Gothic horror, underplayed and suspenseful. It was a shock to be reminded that we were in 1950s. That was an enjoyable clash. Dark thoughts and visions that should be accompanied by the hiss of gas lighting were instead illuminated by a generation that might soon embrace psychedelia and mind-altering drugs.

Some scenes were almost voyeuristic; I felt as if I were in the room, seated in a corner. I wanted to turn away but I was compelled to witness the experiments and violations.

An excellent book to accompany the darker evenings.