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11 of 11 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
A story that takes you right to the edge., 22 Dec 2002
Dunant is a real pro, subtly using every trick in the book to create a psychological novel of intense suspense, a novel that succeeds beautifully in keeping the reader involved, on edge, and dying to find out, first, what is happening to Anna, and second, what is real. The main character, Anna, resembles many other single women about to turn forty. She is a woman with whom most readers will empathize, even if they find her domestic history to be a bit unusual. As she yearns for love and excitement, reveals her vulnerabilities, and shares her fears, all of which play their part in the mystery that develops during her one week vacation in Italy, Dunant ratchets up the suspense--we can imagine and share Anna's plight because she reflects our own insecurities. The fact that she does not return to her loved ones on time, and is considered missing, coincides with our own worst fears, while the fact that neither we nor Anna are sure about what is real and what is fantasy parallels the neurotic daydreams and nightmares everyone shares. Dunant tantalizes the reader by presenting two parallel explanations for what happens on Anna's vacation. As Anna tells us about her past relationships and the birth of her daughter Lily, now six years old, along with two other, very different relationships which may or may not be occurring in Italy while she is "missing," Dunant provides just enough information to allow the reader to jump to conclusions, often incorrect, about what's going on. At the same time, she increases the suspense by having Anna's friend Estella describe the chilling effects of Anna's absence on Lily and the rest of the household back in England. As the novel races to its conclusion, most readers will probably race along, too, unwilling to take a break till it's finished and the outcome known. It is only after the fact, when we "recollect in tranquility," that the true sense of Dunant's achievement can be appreciated--she has manipulated us like marionettes, and we have loved every minute of it. Mary Whipple
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by Sarah Dunant
by Sarah Dunant
by Sarah Dunant
by Sarah Dunant
by Sarah Dunant
