If The Fatal Flame turns out to be the final installment in the Timothy Wilde series (and I have on good report that it is), Lyndsay Faye has saved the best for last and delivered a dynamic, enormously satisfying conclusion. If you’ve read Gods of Gotham and Seven for a Secret, you’re going to want to run to get The Fatal Flame (out 5/12/15). If you haven’t, and you’re a fan of literary mysteries, historical fiction or just well-written hero stories that immerse you in another world, then what the hell have you been doing? Go get Gods of Gotham immediately! You’ll have plenty of time to enjoy it and Seven for a Secret before you can get to The Fatal Flame.
As with the first two Timothy Wilde installments, Faye crafts a complex, propulsive central mystery that keeps you guessing until the final reveal. Even as the “who” (the arsonist or arsonists who committed the titular “fatal flame”) comes into focus, the “why” is a rewarding surprise. Faye again crafts a twisty, well-paced mystery and, most importantly, plays fair with the reader. While the turns are unexpected, Faye never cheats: the clues and motivations are slyly seeded throughout and pay off when “copper star” Timothy Wilde puts them together for us.
These are more than just good mysteries, however. Lyndsay Faye’s Wilde Trilogy transcends genre in two ways: in the elegance and impact of its historical setting and in the emotional richness of its world-building.
When describing Faye’s work to the unfamiliar, I always make the point that she is a master of elegantly weaving rich historical detail and context into the story. She avoids the easy and all-too-familiar crutch of having Captain Exposition enter a scene to explain the background context and its significance in order to explain a character’s actions.
Faye paints such an evocative picture of 1840’s New York City that we’re able to understand and feel the human-scale consequences of the culture and institutions that comprise the era. We get to understand what it means to be a woman at that time, where life options are essentially binary: marry or struggle not to starve to death. In previous books, Faye has focused on the plight of the Irish immigrant and the “freed” African American in that time. Works of historical fiction frequently have characters that play out and/or stand in as archetypes and symbols of a conflict of the period. Faye creates fully-fleshed characters that act within and outside the culture’s framework. These characters are humans, not symbols. This allows for complexity and results, in Faye’s hands, in true emotional payoffs.
Throughout the three books, Faye populates the world of Timothy Wilde with complex, authentic, human-sized characters. The cumulative effect of this work pays off mightily in The Fatal Flame. Because each recurring character has been painted throughout the series with nuance and depth and love, there are genuine, affecting emotional stakes on the line. There were a half-dozen times or more in Flame where I caught myself tense and worried for the fates of different characters.
Three-quarters of the way through the book, I was struck with the realization of just how many characters in this world that was I deeply invested in—Bird Daly, Elena Boehm, Jacob Piest, Gentleman Jim Playfair, Valentine Wilde (of course), even the fantastically, singularly awful Silkie Marsh. I liken this deep bench of richly and precisely drawn characters to Mad Men. It’s appropriately synchronous, I suppose, that The Fatal Flame, seemingly the final chapter of the Timothy Wilde story, hits shelves the same week as Mad Men’s series finale.
The Fatal Flame is a terrific read and a tremendously satisfying conclusion to Timothy Wilde’s story. Despite the 30-degree weather, spring must have been in full bloom because my eyes watered throughout the last few pages. Flame’s final page is one of the loveliest endings to a book I can remember and thrills me to think what Lyndsay Faye has in store for us next. Whatever it is, I’ll be there.