Rating 3.5
I was immediately drawn into this book, captivated by the author’s imagination and fluent, descriptive writing. Set vividly in the rural landscape of Virginia, the depiction of Lexi, the heroine, and her Greek immigrant family and their glassblowing enterprise was beautifully done. ‘The chill of the glass and the crackle of the fire were languages she could fathom and echo.’ It had a magical, Arcadian quality about it which made it easy to believe that Lexi really was an angel, able, through the medium of reflective surfaces, to see the devil’s horns invisible to others, and which marked out humans tainted with something evil.
After the dramatic incident in Chapter 1, the tension rachets up in Chapter 4 with the arrival at the factory of a Dark One: ‘A black boot appeared, extending towards the ground…Black sunglasses hid his eyes...the lenses, twin black holes, swallowed the light.’ The atmosphere of menace is skilfully built up; I was holding my breath, all set for a sort of modern myth with epic Good v. Evil clashes featuring Lexi as a crusading heroine.
But then the author seemed to veer into a different genre, a state-of-the-nation fable with Orwellian overtones and a political message specific to a time, a place and a well-known president. When said president (with devil’s horns) really goes over to the dark side, bringing in Rule 666 (!) which decrees that all glass and mirrors should be forbidden, the glass-blowing firm is shut down and Lexi’s family is plunged into tragedy. We are in a world of grey enclosures without light, where a shadowy, sinister government employs agents to punish and destroy those who refuse to toe the line (and even those who do). The symbolism of the horns became less clear for me: Lexi herself has a pair, accompanied by wings, as does Dominic, the doctor she falls hopelessly in love with (but who isn’t what he seems). This key character is introduced into the story shortly after Lexi’s initiation into a secret group of fellow ‘Seers’ by her friend, Khalil, whom she follows into a derelict building before stepping through two red doors into a sort of Narnian parallel universe: ‘As in deserts and in novels, things here were not as they seemed.’
There was an uneasy dissonance between these fluctuating worlds, the way the story-line developed with Lexi’s new friends in the magic oasis of the Tzami, her ‘sanctuary’, with its rugs and candles, its fireplace, bookshelves, olive trees and rose bushes, and, in the unrelentingly grey ‘real’ world, with her growing obsession with Dominic, which reads more like a contemporary novel about a nasty, controlling relationship. ‘Are you stupid or just pretending to be stupid?’ the patronising Dominic asks at one point. I was hoping our once-feisty heroine would click her fingers and command her fearsome wolf to give the toxic doctor a nasty bite in the derriere. Instead, as the affair degenerates, she goes into a surrealist meltdown.
I so much wanted this to be a novel in which the imaginative, meticulous, obviously talented Angela Panayotopulos kept me enthralled until the end, which I’m sure she could have done with ease. But the different genres and writing styles, though individually well done, distracted from the flow of the narrative and a full engagement with the characters. Lexi’s devotion to her family, in particular her ‘Pappou’, rang true, but both her relationship with Dominic and with the Seers was less convincing.
Having said this, there is much to appeal in this first volume of a planned series, as revealed in the enthusiastic reviews of other readers.