When it comes to subtle but electrifying psychological suspense, Frances Fyfield is hard to match. Her portrayal of strong yet vulnerable women, her social probing, and her superb characterizations have earned her comparisons with Elizabeth George, Minette Walters, and Ruth Rendell. In Staring at the Light, she has created a tour de force that takes her far beyond the trappings of the traditional mystery novel into the realm of high art.
A maverick London lawyer with an irresistible smile and a body to match, Sarah Fortune masks a numbed heart with a string of lame dog clients and a retinue of eccentric lovers. Now she finds herself protecting Cannon Smith, a man whose worst enemy turns out to be his own beloved twin brother, Johnny. Long ago the brothers were inseparable, but now they've taken different paths--and Johnny doesn't like that ... not one bit.
It's hard for Sarah to believe that a man could hate his brother so, but Johnnyboy is truly evil. Inflicting the worst kind of pain is his deepest pleasure and he has no fear--except for one thing: the dentist's chair.
Not since Marathon Man has that chair been such a horrific centerpiece. And not since William Trevor's Felicia's Journey has a suspense novel attained such aesthetic perfection.
"There are crime writers we think of primarily as novelists....There is no one higher on this list than Frances Fyfield."--P. D. James
The new, flawlessly written tale of pain and terror from "a master of claustrophobic suspense" (Boston Globe)
A maverick London lawyer with an irresistible smile and a body to match, Sarah Fortune masks a numbed heart with a string of lame dog clients and a retinue of eccentric lovers. Now she finds herself protecting Cannon Smith, a man whose worst enemy turns out to be his own beloved twin brother, Johnny. Long ago the brothers were inseparable, but now they've taken different paths--and Johnny doesn't like that ... not one bit.
It's hard for Sarah to believe that a man could hate his brother so, but Johnnyboy is truly evil. Inflicting the worst kind of pain is his deepest pleasure and he has no fear--except for one thing: the dentist's chair.
Not since Marathon Man has that chair been such a horrific centerpiece. And not since William Trevor's Felicia's Journey has a suspense novel attained such aesthetic perfection.
"There are crime writers we think of primarily as novelists....There is no one higher on this list than Frances Fyfield."--P. D. James
The new, flawlessly written tale of pain and terror from "a master of claustrophobic suspense" (Boston Globe)
