My kindle edition claimed 700 pages and so it was astonishing to finish it in an hour or so in one afternoon, having expected the usual Forsyth tale with detail, worldwide canvas and more. One had to check to make sure the kindle had delivered the whole book! It had, and then one realises it was published in '75 or so, and perhaps the number of pages is explained by the illustrations. Still, one is left wanting more, to begin with. Not that the story is unsatisfactory by itself, quite the contrary, it is beautiful and perhaps ends just right when it should rather than going on. But one does want more when one is just finished reading.
The synopsis everywhere pretty much tells what it is about, although it does not say how beautifully it is written. Quite lyrical, unlike most work of this author, although that is not to say his other works are lesser, merely different. This one is comparable rather to works of Richard Bach and James Hilton in its qualities of lyrical beauty. There is suspense of course, a matter of life and death, and more.
