I have just been binge-re-reading most of Dick Francis’ books, and I think this is my favorite. Not just because the hero is a fine and passionate architect (though this does matter to me), but because of the way Francis is able to express the esthetic/emotional effects that architecture can create. So few people actually experience architecture as art. Francis obviously does.
The buildings that this hero creates are filled with joy. And it isn’t an accident. He knows how he does it; it is deliberate. The descriptions of his thinking processes and the resulting buildings make me smile. It is a truly happy book.
In addition, he is a remarkable father to his six (yes, six) sons. Francis has the ability to show the children’s characters and temperaments as they evolve. Each is different, an individual person, treated as such, given what he specifically needs to help him become an independent and happy adult.
Highly recommended.
By the way, despite my title, the hero is nothing like Howard Roark and the book is nothing like “The Fountainhead.” It is a completely non-philosophical work, though I think he and Roark might like each other and each other’s work.
/sb
