Day of the Arrow

by Philip Loraine, Robin Estridge

James Lindsay has been summoned to the ancient estate of Bellac by his old flame, Françoise, to help her husband, Philippe de Montfaucon, who has inexplicably become convinced that he is about to die. His fears may not be unfounded: in old tomes in the castle's library, Lindsay learns that almost every male Montfaucon has met with a mysterious and untimely end. Now with the ancient festival of Les Treize Jours approaching and the castle filling up with strange and sinister visitors, Lindsay must unravel an intricate and horrifying web of legend and superstition to save Philippe from a terrible fate . . .

A chilling and suspenseful masterpiece of modern Gothic fiction, Day of the Arrow (1964) earned widespread acclaim from critics and was adapted for a 1966 film, Eye of the Devil, starring David Niven, Deborah Kerr, and Sharon Tate.

'The sophisticated and the primitive, the seen and the half-seen . . . homosexuals and witches, in an intriguing mixture of old and new.' - Chicago Tribune

'Brooding, atmospheric . . . an ancestral castle and its village are the setting for a highly civilized and aristocratic nightmare . . . full of tantalizing and terror-filled symbols." - Anthony Boucher, New York Times

'Chilling . . . weaves a spell of terror . . . Day of the Arrow is something for the connoisseur.' - Charleston News and Courier

Genres: Horror, Gothic, Fiction, Mystery, British Literature, Classics

170 pages, Kindle Edition

First published April 1, 1964

About the author

Robin Phillip Lorraine Estridge was a British writer of suspense fiction.

Reviews

[Jack Tripper · Rating 4 out of 5]

Here's the 1967 Lancer mass-market I have (254 pages), with cover art by Lou Marchetti. It was re-titled to tie in to the film version released that same year. Note the obligatory lone lit window atop the castle. I've yet to see a Gothic paperback from the era without a light burning in the background castle or mansion. Not two or three lights, just one. Always. Must be more ominous that way or something.

[Nancy Oakes · Rating 4 out of 5]

brilliant book.

Although written in 1964, Day of the Arrow still packs a hell of a gut punch that I won't soon forget. Do yourself a HUGE favor though and read the novel before you watch the 1966 movie that was based on it, "Eye of the Devil." While the movie is very good (especially the creep factor of Sharon Tate's indescribable stare), and would be just super for a Deborah Kerr Halloween night creepfest along with "The Innocents", it leaves out so much of what makes this book an incredible read.

Very much Gothic in tone with atmosphere that doesn't quit, Day of the Arrow begins when James Lindsay spies his former lover coming out of a Paris where she'd evidently been for a tryst. That makes him wonder ... after all, he knew she was married to Philipe de Montfaucon for six years. They eventually meet, and Françoise reveals that for the last three years, something's been a bit off with Philipe. It's not another woman -- it's that Philipe is certain that he is going to die. Lindsay agrees to come to the Montfaucon country estate, Bellac, to see what he can make of things, and while he's there he uncovers a secret in some old tomes of family history that is rooted in traditions going back before the Christians ever set foot in the place. Something is very much amiss at Bellac, as James discovers, and to his horror, he also comes to understand that whatever is going to happen cannot and absolutely will not be stopped, no matter how hard he tries.

Day of the Arrow is one of those novels that just gets under your skin from the beginning. Once the scene moves to Bellac, there is no shaking off the atmosphere that Loraine has so expertly crafted. It is a horror novel with an intense mystery at its center, it goes deeply back into time, and it's a very hard book to put down once it's opened. And while it may not appeal to gore/splatter/swimming in guts sorts of readers, I'd put this old book up against anything coming out today. It is, in two words, beyond excellent. It's another one worthy of absolute shrieks of delight once I turned that final page.

[Lisa Pollison · Rating 5 out of 5]

A slender book worth seeking out if you saw the Sharon Tate, Deborah Kerr, David Niven Suspense film, The Eye of The Devil. the film introduced Sharon Tate as an actress, in fact. The narrator differs here, being not the wife but the best friend of the Vinyard Owner wrapped up in ancient rituals. If you know a little something about pre-Christian rituals being white-washed into charming local customs and feast days, then this book will give you something to chew on. I enjoyed reading the book as much as watching the film, if not more since the book delves a little deeper into the mysticism behind the "thirteen days." Many Libraries will be cutting this book from their collections in coming years so read it while you can.

[Andy Weston · Rating 3 out of 5]

Though with all the necessary elements of a folkloric tale, a remote farming community, superstitious locals, pagan festivals, and an outsider visits, this is more of a gothic story.

Scottish painter James Lindsay lives in France and runs into his friend and ex-lover Francoise, who is distraught over her husband Philipe’s o strange behaviour. He, a Marquis living in his ancestral chateau surrounded by vineyards, has recently become depressed, believing that he is under a family curse and that he will soon die. James accompanies Francoise to the chateau, in the village of Bellad, and they attempt to solve Philipe’s seeming insanity.

Though the ending is predictable, it’s the journey there that is entertaining in itself.

Robin Estridge (1920-2002) was a British writer of mystery novels who wrote under a couple of pseudonyms, including Philip Loraine. He’s one of those many writers who enjoyed some success only to then disappear into almost complete obscurity. This is probably the best known of his books, and was adapted into a British horror movie in 1966 called Eye of the Devil. Despite a stellar cast, it met with only limited success.

[Mary · Rating 4 out of 5]

James Lindsay has been living in France for five years when his former lover Francoise comes to him for help. Francoise is now married to the wealthy owner of a chateau in the French wine country and is the mother of a young son. Philippe de Faucon, Marquis de Bellac, Francoise's husband, has turned suddenly cold and emotionally distant towards her and Francoise is desperate to find out the reason why Philippe's attitude has changed so drastically.

There are also strange and sinister things happening. It seems that all the male members of the de Faucon family have a centuries-old curse upon their heads. Apparently, all the sons of the lineage have a history of dying young in mysterious and often violent circumstances.

I liked this book; it was pretty good but, again, not my favorite. If I was to be really picky about the book, in my opinion, the story had some slight continuity issues with it and was a little slow going in terms of reading for me. Overall, though, the book was not a bad way to spend three days and I give it an A!

[Bibliophile · Rating 4 out of 5]

Whenever the peasants start crossing themselves and spittin at you as you're strolling around Provence, you'd be wise to skedaddle on outta there. James Lindsay is a British artist (which the French find hilarious because those things seem mutually exclusive to them) visiting his old friend in a sinister chateau and poking his nose in French people's business. Despite the many ominous signs of trouble brewing he stubbornly refuses to back off, and that is how you end up in a horror novel.

There is a nicely evil atmosphere to this, and although I didn't find the mysticism all that interesting, I enjoyed it.

[Keith · Rating 4 out of 5]

Found this little gem at a local flea market. Blonde witches, gay lovers, and mysterious priests prowl the faded estate of a French marquis. Just what sort of terrible games might be afoot on these ancient grounds?! Only when armed with this book might you, the protagonist James Lyndsay, and the marquise Françoise, pull all of the pieces together…

N.B. I haven’t seen the film Eye of the Devil (1966) based on this book - but I certainly want to now. Having read this book though, I want to see it remade as an A24 production. 🎥✨

[Sandy · Rating 4 out of 5]

During the course of my readings, it has occurred to me that France--be it the urban centers or the French countryside; the France of the Middle Ages, 18th century or today--makes for a very effective setting for a tale of horror. I'm not exactly sure why this is; something to do with the history, locales, or the people themselves, perhaps. But as anyone who has experienced such marvelous shockers as Victor Hugo's immortal "The Hunchback of Notre-Dame" (1831), Algernon Blackwood's splendid John Silence story "Ancient Sorceries" (1908), Guy Endore's truly horrifying novel "The Werewolf of Paris" (1933), Abraham Merritt's fantasy "Creep, Shadow, Creep" (1934), or Patrick Suskind's modern classic "Perfume: The Story of a Murderer" (1985) will readily tell you, France may be a wonderful place to visit, but some truly frightening things have transpired there! And this notion has been reinforced once again for me by the terrific page-turner that I have just read, namely Philip Loraine's "Day of the Arrow."

"Day of the Arrow" was originally released in 1964 as a hardcover edition by the Glasgow-based publisher Collins, the first of 15 books that Loraine placed with the imprint, ending with his final novel, "Ugly Money," in 1996. Later in 1964, the book received the hardcover treatment from the U.S. firm M. S. Mill & William Morrow. A 50-cent Lancer paperback would be released the following year. The book would be filmed in late 1965 as "Eye of the Devil," and featuring a big-name cast (more on that in a moment), resulting in a 1966 movie tie-in paperback from the UK firm Fontana/Collins, under the title "Eye of the Devil," as well as a 1966 tie-in edition from Lancer, simply bearing the title "13." And then, the novel would go OOPs (out of prints) for almost half a century, until the fine folks at Valancourt Books opted to resurrect it in 2015, with a piece of cover art by Lorenzo Princi. This edition must have sold sufficiently well, since Valancourt came out with a second edition in 2025, with a cover by Roderick Brydon, and this is indeed the edition that I was fortunate enough to acquire.

Before telling you a little something about the book itself, a quick word on its creator. Despite the French-sounding name "Philip Loraine," and the French backdrop of this book, our author here was not a Frenchman at all. Rather, he was born Robin Phillip Lorraine Estridge, in London, in 1920. His first novel, the mystery entitled "And to My Beloved Husband," was released in 1950, when the author was already 30 years old. Under the pen name "Philip Loraine," he would ultimately come out with around 20 books, mostly crime novels, mysteries, and espionage thrillers, with the occasional bit of horror fare--such as "Day of the Arrow"--thrown in. Under the name "Robin Estridge," he was the screenwriter of over 15 films, including, yes, "Eye of the Devil." Estridge passed away in 2002 at the age of 82.

His book introduces us to the recently successful, Scottish painter James Lindsay, who encounters his old flame, the beautiful Francoise, in a Paris hotel. Francoise is now in the middle of having an affair although she is currently married to Lindsay's old best friend and former roommate Philippe de Montfaucon. Over drinks that night, Francoise tells her sad story. Although she has been married to Philippe for six years, and has given him a son and daughter, for the past three years, her husband has refused to so much as touch her. He had abruptly moved his family to the ancestral castle and estate Bellac, in the south of France (the reader, given the internal evidence, must assume that Bellac lies in or near the department of Cantal), and has recently grown distracted, and obsessed with prayer. And, Francoise fears, her husband believes that he is about to die...of what she cannot say. Will James come down to the estate and try to help?

And this, need I even mention, is exactly what Lindsay does, driven by an urge to help his old friend and to be near Francoise, whom he has never stopped loving. Bellac and its nearby village, Lindsay finds, are in a sorry state. The vineyards have failed for three years running, and the townspeople have become desperate. Lindsay notices the change in his old friend at once, as he simultaneously gets to know some of the oddball, vaguely sinister characters who have just started arriving at the chateau for the festival known as Les Treize Jours (The 13 Days, although in fact it only lasts but a single day). He meets the Comtesse de Vignon and her 18-year-old, bow-and-arrow-carrying son, Christian; Prince Rinaldo Cottanero and his Swiss model girlfriend, Natasha; Odile de Caray, Philippe's young cousin who is an able hypnotist and who is deemed by many people to be a witch; Tante Estelle, Philippe's live-in aunt, whose flightiness conceals a terrible past; the Abbe Luchard and his German secretary, Heinz Kautzmann; and the Bellac church's priest, the secretive Father Dominique. As the days pass, Lindsay does some research in the castle's library and discovers that over the past 1,000 years, a large number of the de Montfaucon men have died in freak accidents, and hardly in their senior years! And now, as the festival day draws ever closer, it would seem that the current head of the ancient family might soon be joining their ranks....

Those readers with a knowledge of folk-horror literature, or those who have perhaps seen such films as, oh, 1973's "The Wicker Man," may have some idea as to where Loraine's book is heading here. The novel is an exercise in slow-burn suspense, with an atmosphere of escalating panic and tension, not to mention the very real threat of sudden physical violence. It is only 163 pages in length but is densely, even ornately written. There is no flab whatsoever here, and Loraine's prose is a joy to read. The author gives his work a wealth of fine detail to lend an air of verisimilitude to the conceit. Thus, a character doesn't just look at a clock, but at a buhl clock; Francoise doesn't just work on a piece of embroidery, but on a gros point embroidery; the Bellac church doesn't just have windows, but lancet windows. You get the idea. And can Loraine ever deliver a beautifully rendered sentence! And so, we're told of Francoise, "She looked up at him and her eyes were bleak; through them he looked into the arctic world of her loneliness...." And of Tante Estelle, it is mentioned "Her voice, like her appearance, was pale gray, a kind of thistledown silver gray that seemed to be in danger of floating away on the next breath of wind...." And I just love this explanation that Francoise gives Lindsay to explain her failing marriage:

"'...I sometimes think that violent physical love--and that's what ours was, violent--comes at one moment to a point where it...it has to change into something else. I don't quite mean that either; I mean that it needs...What do they call it with these wretched rockets they're firing all over the place?'

"'A booster,' Lindsay suggested.

"'Yes. And it needs to find a new dimension too, a new depth. Is that it, James? Love has to keep finding new dimensions or it dies. A marriage isn't only a very special love affair, though it seems like it for a time. I think most affairs end when this point comes; either there isn't any depth, or the people concerned aren't interested in finding it.' She lay back and closed her eyes. 'Our love, Philippe's and mine, had just reached that point--it needed the booster; it needed the new dimension. And instead...there was this. Nothing....'"

As mentioned, "Day of the Arrow" takes its time getting going, its slow accumulation of revealing facts leading relentlessly to the inevitable denouement. The focus is hardly on action per se, but rather on that escalating sense of clammy unease as the details resolve themselves into clarity. It is not till we are a good 100 pages or so into the novel that anything "exciting" happens, after which we are treated to at least four scenes of nail-biting intensity, namely Lindsay being hunted through the nearby forest by the villagers and some vicious German shepherds, ending in a sudden instance of brutal violence; the quandary of Lindsay as he lies drugged in his room as the festival day approaches; the bizarre spectacle of the festival itself; and Lindsay's breakneck car journey all over southern France in search of help. Lindsay himself makes for a credible leading man: smart, emotional, and certainly not overly tough. We root for him, and hope that he will be able to both save his friend and steal that friend's wife away; a pretty tall order, granted!

For the rest of it, "Day of the Arrow" poses some interesting questions touching on personal responsibility. Is a man more responsible to his dependent neighbors or to his own wife and children? How much weight should one’s ancestral history bear on his or her decisions today? Would the shirking of one's terrible obligations result in a happier life? These are not questions easily answered, as Philippe and his own father learned the hard way. And oh...my thanks to Philip Loraine for turning me on to the word "tisane"; I don't think I'd ever encountered that one before! As I mentioned up top, most of Loraine's books seem to lie in the genres of either crime or thrillers, and "Day of the Arrow" will surely make any reader wish that he'd dabbled more in the arena of horror. Actually, his 1973 novel entitled "Voices in an Empty Room" supposedly deals with both psychic experiments and ghostly possession, and I'd love to read that one next. Perhaps the folks at Valancourt might be induced to bring that Loraine title out as well?

"Day of the Arrow," I should add, is admittedly not for all readers, and some might feel that it is a bit too much of a slow burn for them, with an inadequate payoff at the end. I, fortunately, got caught up in the suspense and the faintly sinister Gallic atmosphere and minded that slow burn not one bit. And I thought the finale was just perfect. Some of the descriptions of the terrain approaching and surrounding Bellac were a tad difficult for me to envision, but as far as quibbles are concerned, that's about it. All fans of beautifully penned horror--and particularly folk horror--should most definitely pounce on this one!

I'd like to say a quick word now on that "Eye of the Devil" film, if I may. The film was released in September 1967 here in the U.S. and six months later in the U.K. I had seen the film on the big screen many years ago and enjoyed it, but a recent watch, after having finished Loraine's source novel, has revealed to me what a faithful adaptation it is. Not, that is, that co-screenwriters Estridge and Dennis Murphy didn't incorporate some surprising changes into it. For example, and inexplicably, Francoise's name becomes (the more English?) Catherine, her son Gilles becomes Jacques, and Bellac itself becomes Bellenac. But perhaps the most noticeable change from book to film is the deletion of the James Lindsay character entirely! Thus, Francoise--I mean, Catherine--is left with the burden of doing most of the detective work, as well as carrying the action mantle, on her own. Granted, she is assisted in one scene by a family friend, Jean-Claude, played by Edward Mulhare. Other changes made by the screenwriters include Odile's transforming a toad into a dove, rather than into the novel's goldfish; Catherine being pursued through the woods in broad daylight by black-robed monks, instead of by villagers and dogs at night; Catherine being not only drugged in her bedroom but also locked in; and...but perhaps I shouldn't mention that last item. Several scenes in the film that were wholly absent from the book include Jacques' sleepwalking incident; Odile and Christian presenting an impaled dove to a roomful of black-cowled men; Odile hypnotizing Catherine into walking off a high battlement; and an impressionistic, borderline psychedelic nightmare that Catherine goes through. But despite all the changes, everything works, and the film winds up being every bit as effective as the novel. Those black-robed men, whose faces are never visible by dint of their enormous cowls (remember the Lawgivers in "Star Trek"'s 2/9/67 episode "The Return of the Archons"?), are an especially effective and creepy addition.

The nonsensically titled "Eye of the Devil" is a class production all the way, with a top-notch bunch of pros both in front of and behind the cameras. Anyone who has seen the marvelous 1962 thriller "Cape Fear" knows how accomplished a director J. Lee Thompson was, and his work here is equally fine. The film was shot in gorgeous black and white by cinematographer Erwin Hillier (this was, apparently, MGM's final B&W film), and his use of off-kilter camera angles, occasional soft focus, and widescreen are all things of beauty, abetted, naturally, by a rousing score from Gary McFarland. The picture showcases some high-caliber production values, with visually striking, even sumptuous sets. The Chateau d’Hautefort in southern France features prominently in the outdoor scenes, and it is indeed a stunner. And then there are the players themselves--a big-name cast, as I mentioned--and what fine performances each and every one of them turns in! Deborah Kerr stars as Catherine, and she proves herself as adept in a horror film as she did in the 1961 classic "The Innocents"; David Niven, one year before playing Sir James Bond in "Casino Royale," is her husband Philippe; and Donald Pleasence, whose horror resume ultimately became quite a lengthy one, here essays the role of Father Dominic, a year after having appeared in the sci-fi champ "Fantastic Voyage." In a bit of inspired casting, David Hemmings, shortly after having starred in the international hit "Blowup," plays the arrow-obsessed Christian, and Flora Robson--who many will recall as Queen Elizabeth in one of my favorite films, 1940's "The Sea Hawk," and who co-starred with Kerr (as nuns) in one of the most beautiful Technicolor films ever made, "Black Narcissus" (1947)--proves to be an excellent Aunt Estelle. And as for the hypnotizing witch-woman Odile, she is played by Sharon Tate, here in her first major role after a string of bit parts and walk-ons, and she is quite excellent as well, her otherworldly beauty lending the film much of its mysterious aura. Although none of these fine actors resembles the characters as I'd envisioned them, I must admit that they all do highly invested and convincing work, like the seasoned professionals most of them were at this point. That said, my dream cast for this film would have been Christopher Lee as Philippe, (a black-wigged) Jacqueline Bisset as Catherine, Richard Jaeckel as Lindsay (had he appeared in the film), and Jean Seberg as Odile; anyway, that's how I envisioned the characters. But no complaints from me. As far as book-to-screen adaptations are concerned, this one is just aces!

But getting back to Philip Loraine's novel, I happened to luck out in that I read it over the course of the last few days of July, which is precisely when the bulk of the story transpires. And for me, this just added to my feeling of personal involvement. But whenever you might decide to read Loraine's exceptionally well-done shocker, I think you'll find you're in for a treat. The book "weaves a spell of terror," said the reviewer at the "Charleston News and Courier" back when, and I do believe most readers will heartily concur with this assessment....

(By the way, this review originally appeared on the FanLit website at https://fantasyliterature.com/ ... a most ideal destination for all fans of well-written horror fare....)

[Laura · Rating 3 out of 5]

Another of those hit-and-miss Valancourt reissues...I'd love to be a fly on the wall at editorial meetings when someone says, 'Let's reprint all of John Blackburn' and someone else is stupid enough to agree with them...'Day of the Arrow' isn't quite as bad as Blackburn's fiction, but it's not good. To be fair, parts of it are quite impressive, especially the final third when the hero gets hunted through the woods (an effective scene) and begins to discover how ancient pagan practices endure beneath the surface of French rural life (I'm sure Kate Mosse has read Loraine's work). This section has the added charm of fatalism and conspiracy, but the first two-thirds of the story are far less appealing. It's slow to the point of aimlessness, has some terrible dialogue (read the conversations aloud if you don't believe me), and wholly fails to evoke the setting which is so important if the story is to succeed. I wanted to be able to see and smell those failing vineyards, but instead I just got dreary bourgeois types sitting around eating olives and having conversations which seem at first pregnant with meaning but which end up simply being frustratingly vague, as if the author quite can't see the point of them. The characters were wooden at best - even the narrator never manages to come to life. The film version may lack some of the nuances of the book, but it is much more watchable, not least because it succeeds in capturing the tone and atmosphere of the novel while imbuing it with much needed verve (and indeed, pathos). The lack of atmosphere was a problem while nothing else was happening, but the novel certainly improves once the narrator begins to get an inkling of what's going on. On the whole, a rather unsatisfying read, though by no means an uninteresting one.

[Stephanie · Rating 3 out of 5]

I found this old book in my mother’s collection. Entertaining and creepy gothic story with a pagan theme set in modern times. I read it in 2 days - it kept my attention which is better than a lot of books. I remember the movie it was based on, "Eye of the Devil", which came out in the late 1960s with David Niven and Deborah Kerr. The book, as always, had more details. I recommend if you like a gothic and creepy genre.

[LisaMarie · Rating 2 out of 5]

About a week and a half ago the movie of this was on TCM, The Eye of the Devil (which I’ve recorded but haven’t seen yet), and when I looked up the book it was under $5 on amazon so I thought I’d see what a horror book published around the time I was born was like. Well, if this is any indication the answer is borrr-ing!!! Slow as molasses, and though I haven’t looked ahead yet, I predict that it’s also predictable!
I’m still looking forward to watching the movie, though.

[Tracy's Terrors · Rating 4 out of 5]

Day of the Arrow (1964) by Philip Loraine (a pseudonym for British author Robin Estridge) exemplifies the genre principles of folk horror; and, in many ways, that’s part of its problem. For the modern genre fan who is familiar with folk horror’s tropes of sacrifice and fertility, the novel’s plot is too predictable. Indeed, by the time I discovered Day of the Arrow in Valancourt’s catalog, I had already seen folk horror classics like The Wicker Man (1974) as well as modern entries in the category by Ben Wheatley; I had read Thomas Tryon’s Harvest Home (1973) and Adam Nevill’s The Reddening (2019): In other words, I knew that in these stories, blood would be shed for the land and the ancient gods who ruled it with the inexorability of a major natural process. In Day of the Arrow, Loraine amplifies this sense of inevitability through excessive foreshadowing which leaves little doubt about how the narrative will end. Still, what the novel lacks in suspense, it more than makes up for in salacious fun. Its representation of sexuality feels risqué even by modern standards and the characters’ complicated relationships make the Bellac Chateau feel like a Frenchified Peyton Place. Sucked in by the drama and the intrigue, I also enjoyed Loraine’s exploration of more “serious” subjects like the relativity of truth and, my personal favorite, the coercive power of building design. So while the outcome of the novel may seem like a fait accompli, there is never a dull moment in this folk horror classic.

Scottish painter James Lindsey runs into his old flame Françoise as she exits a dingy hotel room with a man who is not her husband. Justifying her extra-marital affair, she explains to James that her husband, Philippe de Montfaçon, the Marquis de Bellac, hasn’t made love to her in years and refuses to leave his family’s isolated estate in the mountainous region of Auvergne. The Marquis’ sexual withdrawal and reclusive habits have been difficult for Françoise, a sensual and cosmopolitan woman. But what distresses her the most is Philippe’s unstated conviction that he is destined to die soon. Françoise urges James to visit her husband, who was once his close friend, and discover the cause of his malaise; and James–motivated by a strong desire to be near her–agrees to go. At Bellac, Philippe tells James that the grape harvest has failed for three consecutive years and the food crops are threatened by blight. The people of Bellac, he says, are struggling; and they expect him to fulfill his ancestral duty, which he plans to do, though the exact nature of this ancient commitment is left unspecified. Confused by the Marquis’ cryptic discourse on blood, soil, and obligation, James is increasingly convinced that Philippe is in danger. As eccentric guests gather at the chateau for Les Treize Jours, a festival that’s taken very seriously by the locals, James races to unravel the mysteries of the Montfaçon family. Can he shed light on their dark past and persuade his friend to leave the estate before it’s too late?

Unfortunately, thick and persistent foreshadowing indicates with the boldness of a neon sign that the answer to this question is no. In the first third of the novel, the narrator makes Philippe’s fate clear: “‘One comes at last,’” the Marquis ominously concludes after inspecting his diseased vines, “‘to an acknowledgement of one’s responsibilities.’” What those responsibilities are, modern horror readers who are acquainted with the genre, can guess and–with the stark signage posted throughout the scene–even Loraine’s contemporaries probably had their suspicions. Nonetheless, closing all interpretive play, the narrator promotes the darkest and most fatalistic reading of Philippe’s statement by telling us that, “on looking back, James Lindsey was to remember it to his dying day” (44). Future James knows what will happen to his friend; and by repeatedly treating us to the wisdom of his hindsight–a perspective informed by regret and grief–the narrator limits Philippe’s horizon, inviting us to see his end in the beginning.

The construction of the Marquis’ character also marks him as a deadman. With only a few appearances in the story, he’s a peripheral figure, distant and cold, inviting no emotional investment on the part of the reader. Characters like this are easily disposable and, indeed, authors create them just for that purpose. All of this is to say that the question of whether Philippe lives or dies isn’t the real source of suspense or interest in the novel.

It’s entertaining because it’s so French, at least as that term signifies in the English (and American) popular imagination. For Loraine, a British author, the Bellac Chateau is a heavily upholstered playground of debauchery filled with sophisticates who take intrigue and sexual eccentricity as a matter of course. Foregrounding its thematic priorities, the novel opens with Françoise’s extra-marital affair, a powerful erotic hook that illuminates the triad of desire at the heart of the story. James is jealous because he still longs for Françoise, but he is also affronted on behalf of her husband, who was once his friend and maybe–at least emotionally–something more. He loves them both, he admits; and while he goes to Bellac to rekindle his relationship with the Marquise, he’s also drawn to the Marquis by a memory of their previously intense homosocial bond. He suspects that Philippe is misunderstood by his wife and resents her for coming between them. This three-way becomes even more entangled when James notices a surprising level of physical intimacy between Philippe and Christian, a beautiful and precocious teenaged boy who visits the estate. He wonders if this erotic horseplay is evidence of a change in Philippe’s sexual orientation. While these are the deeply personal questions and discoveries that propel the novel, it isn’t sexually explicit. Everything takes place off of the page and the erotic energy generated by implied (or imagined) encounters adds a frisson to every seemingly ordinary exchange. An uncontainable and dangerous desire floats through the narrative, caressing every interaction and multiplying its possible meanings.

Aside from the ending, everything about the book is seductively indirect. Characters communicate through quick glances and their clipped conversations are loaded with subtext. I was always searching for the truth behind the mask, the genuine passion behind the perfect pose; and the prospect of discovery is what makes Day of the Arrow an addictive read.

While sexual intrigue and titlation are the novel’s strongest suits, it also tackles higher themes. In particular, Lorraine is interested in epistemological questions about the relationship between belief and truth. For instance, if the people of Bellac believe that the land requires blood sacrifice, does that make it so? It’s true enough to structure major components of their culture–like how they perceive their work and spend their leisure time--and that’s a lot. Furthermore, Loraine exposes the seemingly arbitrary hierarchy of truth claims. What makes Bellac’s neo-pagan tradition any more fantastical than Christian beliefs in transubstantiation or the Trinity? What makes it more ridiculous than the requirements of that seemingly secular religion, patriotism? Is it better to die in war for the abstraction of “your country” or to give your life to the particular piece of land that has nourished your family for centuries? The idea that truth is relative certainly isn’t a new one, but Loraine’s skillful treatment of it adds depth to the novel.

Day of the Arrow is also enriched by Loraine’s speculations on the link between architecture and personality. When James finds himself eavesdropping and indulging in conspiratorial thinking, he concludes that his new furtiveness and paranoia are an inevitable response to the Chatteau’s design: “Who could argue that places, that inanimate stones and wood did not dictate methods of behavior?” (39). He observes that the building’s dark passages, shadowy corners, and floor-length drapes provide perfect places for concealment–it’s as if they were built to suit that specific purpose. And it’s through this collapse of form and function that they coerce him into spying on Philippe’s guests. In other words, James becomes a liar because the space facilitates and practically requires deception. I’m drawn to the idea that Bellac possesses its inhabitants, not through a supernatural force or haunting, but through a series of material structures that cultivate habits. I wish this theme had been fleshed out.

Everything that makes Day of the Arrow an engaging read is missing from the film adaptation, Eye of the Devil (1966). James is gone, replaced as the protagonist by Catherine (Françoise in the book) and played by Deborah Kerr. In her hands, the character of the Marquise is not a liberated woman driven by passion but instead an uptight and asexual mother/detective figure. There’s no rekindled relationship with an artist, no extra-marital affair, no intimations of same-sex desire. In short, all of the “Frenchness” has been stripped away and, thus, all of the fun. As dry and British as a can of Spotted Dick, Eye of the Devil is a poor representation of Loraine’s original work. If you are choosing between the two, skip the movie and go with the book, which, at a slim 168 pages, is well worth your time.

[Eden Thompson · Rating 4 out of 5]

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This atmospheric thriller was first published in 1964 as "Day of the Arrow" before being filmed in 1966 and reissued under this title. Filled with menace, this fits the Daphne Du Maurier (or Hammer horror) style of gothic castles and ancient rites.

Accomplished young painter James Lindsay spies his old love Françoise in Paris. His desire is still strong despite her marrying his effete college roommate Philippe six years ago and becoming Françoise de Montfaucon, Marquise de Bellac. Her surprising call that night is full of fear, for Philippe claims he is going to die. He hasn't touched her in years; maybe he is having an affair?
James agrees to travel to the family castle in the Auvergne, Château de Bellac, complete with iron-studded doors and circular towers surrounded by a small kingdom of farmland and wine fields. He finds Philippe boisterous and welcoming; perhaps she is wrong. Staying there are Philippe's sister Tante Estelle; the Comtesse de Vignon with her virile son Christian; and his sister Odile, an ethereal girl whom everyone will tell you is a witch. Philippe's main concern is the two years of drought floundering crops, and James researches the history of this land where for centuries the Lords have all died suspiciously before forty. James soon discovers Philippe may be having an affair with Christian, Odile performs rituals with dead doves, and there is a hidden chapel watched over by Pere Dominique. The days of the local harvest fete Les Treize Jours (The Thirteen) arrive with extra guests - an Italian Prince with various other European elites - forming a party of thirteen for a big hunt.
James has been warned by Philippe to leave; he may be attacked or killed, but he cannot abandon Francoise as the ancient celebration commences, filled with pagan dances and debased rituals their god demands, the darkness overseen by Pere Dominique.

You can clearly see the road this is going down, but the subtle menace is so mesmerizing you don't mind. The chateau is filled with secrets, the guests quite odd, and anyone who has read witchcraft stories will know there is only one cure for a famine: your basic blood sacrifice. The 1966 film Eye of the Devil, starring David Niven, Deborah Kerr, and Sharon Tate in her first role, was overlooked but is now considered a cult classic. British writer Robin Estridge (using the Loraine pseudonym) wrote both this novel and the screenplay.

[Carlos Freitas · Rating 3 out of 5]

O caminho que me levou até esse livro é curioso: filme De Olhos Bem Fechados > vídeos no youtube com interpretações conspiratórias sobre De Olhos Bem Fechados > filme Eye of the Devil que tem algumas ligações temáticas com De Olhos Bem Fechados > livro Day of the Arrow que é a base para o roteiro de Eye of the Devil.

Esse é aquele tipo de história em que você pensa “tem alguma coisa muita errada acontecendo aqui embora as pessoas pareçam simpáticas”. Nesse aspecto conspiratório lembra O Bebê de Rosemary, mas a ambientação rural e os elementos de folclore e paganismo aproximam o livro mais de Wicker Man. Gostei, um bom mistério que aborda temas que me fascinam.

[Megan Hex · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fantastic literary piece hiding a folk-horror gem inside. Reminiscent of The Wicker Man, layered in lovely prose.

[Neer · Rating 4 out of 5]

What does responsibility entail? More here: https://ahotcupofpleasureagain.wordpr...

[Samantha · Rating 5 out of 5]

The movie is Pleasant, but the book is AWESOME!!!

[Justin Howe · Rating 5 out of 5]

Folk Horror for William Sloane and Shirley Jackson fans. Recommended.

[Logan Anderson · Rating 2 out of 5]

Lackluster. No suspense. No atmosphere. No chills. No thrills.