Eagle In The Sky was my introduction to Wilbur Smith’s writing. I read it waaaay back in the day and loved it, finding it to be the perfect mix of romance and adventure. For me it brought the late 60s and early 70s, and a part of the world I didn’t know, vividly to life.
Fast forward 40 years. (Yikes! Am I really that old?) My husband’s been nagging me that we have to downsize – which we do – and that, ‘You really have to do something about the ridiculous number of books you have, Diana. If you want to read something again, put it on your Kindle.’
Which is all well and good, but personally I think a house without shelves filled with books has no right to call itself a home. Still, I get his drift, so I go down to the basement to make a start on clearing out some of the bookcases and come across a shelf full of Wilbur Smith. I haven’t read quite as many as my husband, but we’re both fans.
And there it is.
Eagle In The Sky.
Not my original copy – that’s been lost in one of our many moves – but a replacement I must have bought and never read.
I pull it from the shelf and flick through the pages.
Should I risk reading it again?
My memories of the story from all those years ago are so strong – both the characters and plot are clear and much beloved in my head and my heart. If I read it again will I be disappointed?
David and Debra’s love story remained as poignant as it was on first reading. Smith’s deft touch as he takes us from South Africa to Israel and back again is assured and masterful. That last scene…
I love this story.