(one in a series of Dick Francis reviews in which I try and separate all those rather similar titles, and in which I try not to give away plotlines)
The book: Alexander Kinloch is a painter - living alone in a bothy in the Scottish Highlands, and considered slightly mad by his relatives. When thugs threaten him to find about hidden treasure; when fraud strikes in southern England; and when he has to hide another treasure, a very large one, he needs all the allies he can get to succeed; let alone survive.
A book about the agonies of painting, treasure in its various shapes, decency, pride and loyalty. About fraud, murder and racehorses. And about feelings, and about not expressing all of them.
The writer:
Dick Francis served in the RAF in World War II (because the cavalry refused him!) and was a professional jockey afterwards; he was Champion Jockey, but hung up his professional boots and turned to writing thrillers. He died in 2010. This was his thirty-fifth thriller, from 1996.
My opinion: excellent: tense, puzzling, good on personalities without dissecting them. The usual powerful writing style: to-the-point, no-nonsense, clear and crafty; and very, very good on feelings, especially if not everything is put into words. Quite moving in places, too, and has you rooting for the hero completely and utterly. Francis is a consummate craftsman.
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