Will Law, after several years of working in the U.S. foreign services suddenly ups and quits his career and seeks solace in the arms of his once lover, Pedro Douglas in Paris. But Paris is not as romantic as one might think as the child of Will’s friend is abducted by French Nationalists. To help, Will must then venture back into the world he had originally planned on abandoning forever.
Peter Gadol’s Light at Dusk alternates between Pedro Douglas’ slow-paced, architecture-savvy life and his lover, Will Law’s more exciting, foreign affairs-centered life until both storylines merge in the middle of the book, when Will and Pedro team up to help Will’s friend. It starts off as slow, but the writing was quite gripping so I held on patiently. Things did not start speeding up until Will meets Jorie and Jorie’s ‘little prince’ is kidnapped in broad daylight by a Nationalist gang. From there, measured doses of drama and scandalous revelations are injected into the reader’s mind, inviting you to root for Jorie and Will.
Strangely enough, both story lines (Will’s and Pedro’s), happening independently for the first half of the book, are narrated by Pedro. And in intimate detail as though Pedro was there when he met Jorie, or when Jorie was confessing to Will her plans. It came off as strange, because it seems illogical that a character in a story can have an omniscient narrative authority. Patiently though, I waited until this strangeness was explained to me, perhaps near the end of the story. It was not.
What was interesting though was the recurring theme of “Lost and Found”. In the beginning, Will lost his er, will to keep working for the U.S. foreign services, and then through a dramatic turn of events, found his way back. Will and Pedro’s relationship had been lost, although not completely gone, for seven years, but then, throughout the book, was found again. Jorie’s child, Nico was lost but in the end, found. And a bunch of other more and less subtle occurrences of Lost and Found.
Another interesting note is that even though this has a love story spread throughout the pages, it doesn’t come off as a romance novel but more focused on themes of discrimination, political intrigue and architecture, which was personally preferable (although the architecture bit was somewhat longwinded and only serves Pedro’s story and not the whole).
A final point of interest is the presentation of Paris in an anti-immigrant light, and even though the typical romantic atmosphere attributed to the place creeps in every now and then, the darker side still manages to overpower it. I mean, that imagery of the people burning trees all over the place was haunting.
Oh, on a final, final note. It was amusing to realize that the narrator Pedro Douglas resembles the author's name. Pedro is Peter; and Douglas is a sort of anagram for Gadol, with an additional U and S.