Isabel flies in from Istanbul to be at an old friend’s (Owen) funeral. But she is also looking for the truth of what happened twenty years ago when their friend, Julia, went missing. She believes that Owen either murdered Julia or know who did it.
“When she returned, years later, to the palaces, they weren’t the same ones. Only their names were the same, as if new buildings had been put up but they had kept the old signs. The Dolmabache Palace was the wrong way round. She couldn’t say what she meant by this, only that she seemed to be facing the wrong direction all the time. Topkapi was smaller. Perhaps it was simply that he wasn’t there any more, so it couldn’t be the same”
The book is narrated by two persons, Isabel herself, and her aunt, Maggie, in italics, more like an introduction to each chapter. It is a mix of present and past, both from Isabel and Maggie’s lives. It was an easy page-turner and nothing fantastic, until the end. Those ten last pages really flipped the book around and made me all confused and disappointed at the last word. Disappointed because it ended the way it did and I know I will reach the full concept of the book unless I pick it up and reread it. Which is probably why I’m stuck left with the impression of having read a good book although I know it wasn’t until the last pages. And I know it will be messing with my mind for a while, dammit.