It's crazy to think that it was literally only two years ago to the week that I picked up a Daphne du Maurier for the first time. I was in uninspired by the books I had to hand and my mum leant be a du Maurier anthology containing Jamaica Inn, Rebecca, Frenchman's Creek and My Cousin Rachel. I was hooked. I was late to work every day for two weeks in a row because I like to read with my breakfast and I could not physically tear myself away from the enchanting stories. Since then, I've read a whole host of du Maurier, and she's quickly become one of my favourite authors. Now, I feel like reading a du Maurier is like sinking into a warm bath. It's comfortable, enjoyable, and I know what to expect and what kind of experience it's going to be. A perfect antidote to some of the... ahhh.... less enjoyable stuff I've been reading.
As a tour guide in Rome, Armino Fabbio's life follows a predictable pattern - dull but comfortable. Then one night, a spontaneous act of charity leads to his entanglement in the murder of a homeless old woman. After he learns that the old woman was actually his beloved childhood nurse, he spooks, and worried that he'll be incorrectly implicated in the murder, he flees back to his native city of Ruffano, in search of sanctuary, and answers. Ruffano has a dark past - 500 years earlier, the mad Duke Claudio - The Flacon - lived out his twisted fantasies, preying on the Ruffanese people, and when Armino returns, to a city at war with itself in the lead up to its annual festival commemorating the final days of The Falcon, it seems like history may be doomed to repeat itself.
This follows the same pattern as a lot of other du Maurier books - a slow burner that tricks you into thinking that there isn't really much happening until the mystery slowly unravels. The plot isn't the key focus here, it's the underlying themes that are the most important - loss, grief, and the struggle of having your abuser and your saviour, your idol be the same person. I used to hate it in GCSE English Lit classes when the teachers would make us tease out every single piece of deeper meaning in the books we studied, and I don't personally gel with books where the symbolism is more important the plot, which explains why a) I can't stand most "classics" and b) why I can't help but think that there may be more to the story, and the symbolism that just didn't resonate with me. The duality of good vs evil is tied in heavily to religious symbolism and there are also links to Renaissance art and classical music - maybe after the over-the-top religious symbolism and tropes of Sara Douglass' The Crucible series that were my last two reads, I just wasn't open to that same vibe, albeit far more subtly and masterfully done, or maybe I just like my stories to be stories.
While I've never met a Daphne du Maurier book I didn't like, I have to say - this isn't one of my favourites. I enjoyed the journey, and though it worked as a comfort read, I don't have any strong feelings about it, one way or the other, and I suspect that it won't stick in my head for long. The ending does feel a little anti-climatic, and I didn't feel like I got the pay-out I'd been promised after all the build up. I wanted more on the history of the town, and I so wanted Armino to stand up for himself, to step out of the shadows and live his own life, but he continued to be pretty passive throughout. In this way, he did remind me of the unnamed narrator in Rebecca - insecure, innocent and someone that the story happens to rather than being part of it. An observer. However, while the non-descriptness (is that a word?) of the narrator in Rebecca allows the reader to insert themselves into the story and really feel the fear and the tension that ramps up so cleverly (is there anyone who wasn't completely unsettled by the bedroom scene with Mrs Danvers?), this just doesn't work in The Flight of the Falcon. The tension is lacking, the motives unclear and the gothic, sinister vibes that I love so much in her other books are almost completely absent.
I will say this though, the scenery is fabulous. Although I didn't feel the draw of the plot, I absolutely felt the draw of the setting. I want to pack my bags and leave cold, grey Wales for Italy immediately. It made me want to eat pasta in a trattoria on a square of terracotta roofed buildings and watch people fly by on mopeds... and I don't even like pasta. It was like a window into a 1960s provincial Italian city and I was fascinated by the depictions of the rival student factions, mirroring the rise of business and capitalism over the long-revered arts in the post-war boom.
All in all, I still love Daphne du Maurier. I don't think any of her books will ever put me off her. If like me, you're a du Maurier veteran already, by all means read this - especially if you love a bit of symbolism. However, if you're new to her catalogue, I'd say maybe don't start with this one - Rebecca, My Cousin Rachel or The Scapegoat are much better, more enthralling places to start.
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