(first chapter, first paragraph)
She was aware first of the scent of the hotel shampoo, a Middle Eastern aroma reminiscent of anise, and then - when she opened her eyes - the way the light from the window was different from the light in the rooms in the hotel where the crew usually stayed. Ths morning sun was oozing through one slender line from the ceiling to the floor where the drapes, plush as they were, didn't quite meet and blanching a strip of carpet. She blinked, not against the light but against the thumping spikes of pain behind her eyes. She needed water, but it would take a tsunami to avert the hangover that awaited. She needed Advil, but she feared the red pills that she popped like M&M's at moments like this were distant. They were in the medicine bag in her own hotel room, in her own hotel.
"I'm a very, very good liar. I lie all the time. I lie to other people. I lie to myself."
Chris Bohjalian's new book, The Flight Attendant, is an intricately plotted suspense novel. It's told from dual points of view by two well written female characters.
Posts
