The singular style of this first-person account made me fall in love with the book at the start. But when the story didn’t develop the way I’d hoped, I was disappointed. I suppose I wanted to feel more engaged with the human and political issues flagged in the blurb.
Thanks to publishers Peirene Press for my advance proof copy.
I haven’t done much new writing myself lately, although I have two novel-length projects in mind. I’m also editing, with helpful feedback from my critique group, a short novel I began in 2018. That, along with The Love of Singular Men has informed my response to this week’s flash fiction challenge to write a 99-word story about a message from a feather.
Sauntering into the station, Pierre adopted a nonchalant air. But, beneath his fake uniform, his heart thundered in his chest. He scanned the crowd for his contact: a woman, he’d been told, with a parrot feather in her hat. Pierre knew nothing of parrots, but presumed their plumage would be brighter than the birds on the family farm.
There: a vibrant green with a turquoise eye. The woman didn’t blink as he slipped the papers into her pocket. Mission accomplished, almost free, a revolver stabbed his back. “That’s a peacock feather,” said the Nazi. “Don’t you know your birds?”