The Flight Attendant: A Novel

The Flight Attendant: A Novel

by Chris Bohjalian

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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780385542425
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Publication date: 03/13/2018
Sold by: Random House
Format: NOOK Book
Pages: 368
Sales rank: 2,979
File size: 1 MB

About the Author

CHRIS BOHJALIAN is the author of twenty books, including The Guest Room; Close Your Eyes, Hold Hands; The Sandcastle Girls; Skeletons at the Feast; The Double Bind; and Midwives which was a number one New York Times bestseller and a selection of Oprah's Book Club. Chris's work has been translated into more than thirty languages, and three novels have become movies (Secrets of Eden, Midwives, and Past the Bleachers). Chris lives in Vermont and can be found at www.chrisbohjalian.com or on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Litsy, and Goodreads.

Hometown:

Lincoln, Vermont

Date of Birth:

August 12, 1961

Place of Birth:

White Plains, New York

Education:

Amherst College

Read an Excerpt

1
 
 
She was aware first of the scent of the hotel shampoo, a Middle Eastern aroma reminiscent of anise, and then—when she opened her eyes—the way the light from the window was different from the light in the rooms in the hotel where the crew usually stayed. The morning sun was oozing through one slender line from the ceiling to the floor where the drapes, plush as they were, didn’t quite meet and blanching a strip of carpet. She blinked, not against the light but against the thumping spikes of pain behind her eyes. She needed water, but it would take a tsunami to avert the hangover that awaited. She needed Advil, but she feared the red pills that she popped like M&M’s at moments like this were distant. They were in the medicine bag in her own hotel room. In her own hotel.
 
And this definitely wasn’t her hotel. It was his. Had she come back here? Apparently she had. She was sure she had left. She thought she had returned to the airline’s considerably more modest accommodations. At least that had been her plan. After all, she had a plane to catch this morning.
 
Her mind slowly began to tackle the questions she would need to answer when she rolled over, the principal one being the most prosaic: what time was it? It seemed that the clock was on his side of the bed, because it wasn’t on hers. On her nightstand was the phone and a china tray with date and sugar cookies and three perfectly cubed Turkish delight candies, each skewered with a toothpick-sized silver spear. Time mattered, because she had to be in the lobby of the correct hotel—her hotel—with the rest of the crew by eleven fifteen, to climb with them all into the shuttle to the airport and then the flight to Paris. Everything else, including how she was going to find the courage inside her to swing her legs over the side of the bed and sit up—a task that, given how she felt, would demand the fearlessness of an Olympic gymnast—was secondary. She breathed in slowly and deeply through her nose, the noise a soft whistle, this time inhaling a smell more pronounced than the anise: sex. Yes, the room was rich with the unmistakable scent of a luxury hotel shampoo, but she could also smell herself and she could smell him, the evidential secretions from the night before. He was still there, an absolutely silent sleeper, and she would see him once she rolled over. Once she sat up.
 
God, if only she’d brought him back to her room. But at dinner he had slipped her a room key, telling her he would be back by nine and to please be waiting for him there. She had. His room was a suite. It was massive, impeccably decorated and bigger than her apartment in Manhattan. The coffee table in the living room was inlaid with mother-of-pearl, the wood polished to the point that it reflected the light like a full moon. There was a bottle of Scotch in the bar—this was a real bar, not a minibar or campus fridge with a couple cans of Coke Zero on the lone shelf—that might cost more than the monthly maintenance on her apartment back in New York.
 
She closed her eyes against the shame, the disgust. She tried to remind herself that this was just who she was—how she was—and to ratchet down at least a little bit the self-loathing. Hadn’t they had fun last night? Of course they had. At least she presumed they had. When she had first opened her eyes, she had hoped for a moment that she had only been passed-out drunk, but no, it was clear that she had been blackout drunk. Again. The difference was not semantics. She experienced both. Passed-out drunk was more humiliating when it happened: she was the woman with her face half buried in the throw pillows on the couch, oblivious to the party moving on without her. Blackout drunk was more embarrassing the next morning, when she woke up in strange beds with strange men, and not a clue how she’d gotten there. She could recall this hotel room and this man, and that was a good sign, but clearly there were chasm-like gaps in her memory. The last thing she could recall was leaving. In her memory, she was dressed and she was exiting this suite, and he was in one of those marvelous hotel room robes, black and white zebra stripes on the exterior, terrycloth on the inside, and joking about the broken bottle of Stoli they had yet to clean up. He’d mumbled that he would deal with it—the spilled vodka, the dagger-like shards—in the morning.
 
And yet here she was. Back in his bed.
 
She sighed slowly, carefully, so as not to exacerbate her looming headache. Finally she lifted her head and felt a wave of nausea as the room spun. Instantly she sank back into the pillow’s voluptuous, downy welcome.
 
On the plane, he had been wearing cologne, something woody she liked and he had told her was Russian. He loved the Russians, he said. Yes, he was an American, a southern boy, he joked, but he was descended from Russians and felt he still had a Russian soul. Pushkin. Eugene Onegin. Something about the gleamings of an empty heart. The Russians poured money into his hedge fund, he beamed—and it was a beam, not a boast, it was so childlike—and the crazy oligarchs were like uncles to him. They were like teddy bears, not Russian bears, in his hands.
 
She couldn’t smell the cologne now, and then she remembered showering with him. It was a large, elegant shower of black-and-white-striped marble, including a marble bench, where he had sat down and pulled her onto his lap as he washed her hair with that anise shampoo.
 
His name was Alexander Sokolov, and he was probably seven or eight years her junior: early thirties, she guessed. He liked to be called Alex because he said Al sounded too American. In a perfect world, he confessed, he would be called Alexander because that sounded Russian. But when he started work, his bosses had suggested he stick with Alex: it was internationally neutral, which was important given the amount of time he spent overseas. He had grown up in Virginia, though he had no trace of a southern accent at all, and lived now on Manhattan’s Upper West Side, running a fund at Unisphere Asset Management. He was a math geek, which he said was the secret to his success and why his fund delivered the sorts of returns that kept everyone on both sides of the Atlantic so happy. It was evident that he enjoyed the work, though he insisted that in reality there were few things duller than managing other people’s money, and so mostly he wanted to talk about what she did. Her war stories. He was utterly fascinated.
 
He had been in 2C on the flight to Dubai and he hadn’t slept much on the plane—if at all. He had worked on his laptop, he had watched movies, and he had flirted with her. He had gotten to know her much better than she had gotten to know him. Before landing, they’d agreed they’d each take a catnap and then rendezvous for dinner. They were going to meet in his hotel lobby. They’d both known that dinner would be mere foreplay. She rolled his name over again in her mind one more time before bracing herself to turn over and face the whitecap breakers of pain. To face him. One more time she thought of how much arak she had drunk last night. One hundred and twenty proof. The clear liquid becoming the color of watery milk once they added the ice. And then there was the vodka, the Stolichnaya his friend had brought later that night. She’d drunk arak before; she drank it whenever she flew into Beirut, Istanbul, or Dubai. But had she ever drunk this much? She told herself no, but she was kidding herself. She had. Of course she had. One of these days she was going to get busted by the airline; one of these days she was going to fly too close to the sun and fail a drug test, and that would be the beginning of the end. It would be the beginning of the end of everything. She would be following the trail her father had hewn, and she knew where that ended.
 
No, it wasn’t her father’s trail, precisely, because he was male and she was female. She knew the truth of men and women and booze: it rarely ended well for either gender, but it was the women who wound up raped.
 
She sighed. It was too bad the airline didn’t fly into Riyadh. The hotel minibars in Saudi didn’t even have alcohol. She’d have to wear an ankle-length abaya. She wouldn’t be out alone, ever, so she wouldn’t be out picking up men, ever. Meeting them in their hotel lobbies. Ever.
 
She thought she might have been fine right now if Alex hadn’t taken that call from his friend and had them get dressed. The woman—and Cassie believed that her name was Miranda, but even if this hadn’t been one of her blackout benders, her memory this morning was still pretty damn foggy—had phoned just after they’d emerged from the shower, clean and postcoital and still a little drunk, and said she was going to stop by the hotel room for a nightcap. Cassie thought she was somehow involved in the hedge fund, too, and was going to be in the same meetings with Alex tomorrow. She may also have had something to do with Dubai real estate, but Cassie wasn’t sure where she had gotten this idea.
 
When Miranda arrived at the suite, it was clear that she and Alex really had very little history together, and were actually meeting for the first time. And yet they had a past that transcended work: it seemed they had mutual friends and business connections in the construction that was everywhere in this science fiction–like city by the sea. She was his age, with dark almond eyes and deep auburn hair that she had pulled back into an impeccable French twist. She was wearing baggy black slacks and an elegant but modest red and black tunic. And she sure as hell could hold her booze. The three of them had sat in the suite’s sumptuous living room for perhaps an hour, maybe a little longer, as they drained the vodka Miranda had brought. It crossed Cassie’s mind that this was some sort of planned threesome, and while she wasn’t about to initiate it herself, she knew she’d be game if either Alex or Miranda did. Something about the moment—the booze, the banter, the suite—had her aroused once again. Alex and Miranda were in chairs on opposite sides of that exquisite coffee table and she was alone on the couch, and somehow the fact that the three of them were a few feet apart made the moment feel even more heated. But, in the end, this wasn’t about a threesome. Miranda left, giving both her and Alex only air kisses beside their cheeks before Alex shut the door behind her. Still, Miranda couldn’t even have reached the elevator down some distant corridor before Alex was stripping off her clothes, then his, and they were making love again, this time in the bedroom on that magnificent king with the massive headboard that was shaped like an Arabian arch.
 
But then she had gotten dressed. She had. She knew she had. She was going to return to the airline’s hotel. Hadn’t she said good-bye to him at the entrance to his suite? Hadn’t she even gotten as far as the elevator, wherever it was, on his floor?
 
Maybe. Maybe not.
 
It really didn’t matter, because clearly she had come back to his room and climbed back into his bed.
 
Assuming, of course, that she had even really left. Maybe she was remembering the walk alone from the restaurant to his hotel room after dinner, when Alex had said he had a brief meeting with an investor. He’d told her he wanted her waiting for him naked in his room. She’d obliged.
 
And now here she was, naked again.
 
Finally she took a breath, cringing against the spikes behind her eyes, and turned 180 degrees in the bed to face Alex.
 
And there he was. For a split second, her mind registered only the idea that something was wrong. It may have been the body’s utter stillness, but it may also have been the way she could sense the amphibian cold. But then she saw the blood. She saw the great crimson stain on the pillow, and a slick, still wet pool on the crisp white sheets. He was flat on his back. She saw his neck, the yawning red trench from one side of his jaw to the other, and how the blood had geysered onto his chest and up against the bottom of his chin, smothering the black stubble like honey.
 
Reflexively, despite the pain, she threw off the sheet and leapt from the bed, retreating into those drapes against the window. It was while standing there, her arms wrapped around her chest like a straitjacket, that she noticed there was blood on her, too. It was in her hair and on her shoulder. It was on her hands. (Later, when she was in the elevator, she would surmise that the only reason she hadn’t screamed was self-preservation. Given the way her head was pulsating, the sound of her own desperate, panicked shriek might have killed her.)
 
Had she ever seen so much blood? Not from a human. A deer, maybe, back when she was a kid in Kentucky. But not a person. Never.
 
On the other side of the body, on the far side of the bed, was the clock. It was digital. It read 9:51. She had not quite ninety minutes to be in the lobby of another hotel and ready to leave for the airport and the flight back to Paris and then, tomorrow, home to JFK.
 
Her back against the drapes, she slid first into a baseball catcher’s pose and then onto the floor. She tried to focus, to make decisions. Her mind only slowed when she spotted the swath of broken glass on the floor, a constellation on the carpet between the foot of the bed and the elegant credenza inside which was the TV. Once upon a time, it had been the bottle of Stoli that Miranda had brought; now it was mostly slivers and triangular fragments that were almost pretty, though the neck was still attached to the shoulder and the shoulder was a jagged edge. And then, when she realized what that might mean, she felt the nausea rising up inside her. She raced to the bathroom with her hands on her mouth, as if her fingers really had any chance—any chance at all—of damming such a gravity-defying waterfall, and made it the toilet. But just barely.


Customer Reviews

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The Flight Attendant: A Novel 4 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 36 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This book is so well written, mysterious, and downright shocking! As soon as I thought I had it figured out- another twist! It is a fast read, but not simple. A thriller, but also sensitive and relatable. I give this book 100/100.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I am a fan of this author and am very pleased with this book, his latest. Different from most of his characters, Cassie brought me tears, laughter, and a glimpse into a strong, but struggling young woman. I look forward to his next novel. Chris Bohjalian, keep writing....
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Bohjalian never disappoints. Solid read from start to finish.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Good story. First part of the story was edge of your seat exciting. Middle of book became a bit tedious. Picked up a bit at the end. Still a very enjoyable read.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Chris Bohjalian has done it again with another great book. Gripping to the point that I could not put it down. Great detail that leaves the reader knowing the story but wanting more. This is a "must-read" for those who like thrillers!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Story dragged; very repetitious scenes with little advancements of the storyline. Surprise ending though!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This would make a perfect film for Jennifer Lawrence; she is great at complex imperfect heroines and will bring the role to life
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I loved it...can't put it down til I finish,,great book...
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Weird ending, unsympathetic narrator. Without all the details of various cocktails, the novel would have been much shorter. I also wanted some suspense. Disappointing.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Excellent read
Meemo_B More than 1 year ago
Imagine waking up in a bed that's full of blood - and a murder victim. That's what happens to flight attendant Cassandra Bowden. She's almost sure she didn't commit the murder - and couldn't be capable of it. Then again, she's a black-out drunk so it's hard to convince herself 100%. I've seen reviews that say this isn't Bohjalian's best work - if that's the case, I very much look forward to reading more from him - I read The Sleepwalker and now this one, and very much enjoyed both. Good pacing, interesting characters, surprises - an excellent read overall. Thanks to Netgalley and Doubleday for providing a copy for an unbiased review.
Sandy5 More than 1 year ago
Cassie was out of control. Her behavior was quite predictable and as I read, I had a feeling that she was bound to hit rock bottom sometime soon. What she didn’t expect was passenger 2C. Sure, Cassie flirted with the passengers in her sections as she assisted them and there were some that she gave more attention to but she didn’t expect passenger 2C to totally change her life. Cassie liked her alcohol and she liked her men. As a flight attendant who flew all around the world, she saw a variety of men, most of them she saw only once. Cassie also had a habit of drinking until she passed out. After a night out and she found herself coherent, sometimes she knew where she was and sometimes she didn’t. This was the same perception Cassie had towards the men she woke up with: sometimes she remembered them and occasionally, they were strangers. This morning, Cassie woke up to passenger 2c laying beside her. She had remembered some of the night before but yet this morning, something felt different. As Cassie eyed Alex lying beside her, she began to panic. Alex was dead, his blood had managed to seep onto her side of the bed and she had been lying in. Still shaky from last night, Cassie tries to take in the room around her. Cassie knows that she needs to get back to her own hotel as the airport shuttle is scheduled to pick up the crew shortly yet her mind is still trying to piece together what happened last night with Alex. Is it possible that somehow, she killed Alex? Shuttle…....Alex…... she must hurry, there is not much time to contemplate. Quickly piecing together what she can, Cassie realizes what she must do and what I think, I would have done and that is, to disappear from the scene. She needs to eliminate herself completely from this room and quick. But, is this even possible in a world where technology is everywhere? Can she possibly clean up the room and be totally removed in time? This was an exciting and intriguing novel as I raced through it. Cassie risky behavior set the stage for a girl who was on the edge and one whose mind was racing. As the murder makes the news, there is no stopping what happens as they investigate every possible lead. Cassie’s behavior begins to get more wild and crazy as she tries to “help” but Cassie’s helping has me shaking my head at her in frustration. It’s definitely a novel that kept my attention and was a fast read. I received a copy of this novel from NetGalley and Doubleday Books in exchange for an honest review.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Good book. First time reading this author’s book. I will definitely read more. The Flight Attendant kept me guessing to the end.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Gripping, absorbing and with twists that I never saw coming. Thoroughly enjoyed this book.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Very good book. This is the first book I have read by this author. Now I am going to read other books he has authored.
JustJan3 More than 1 year ago
The Flight Attendant by Chris Bohjalian I am a “huge” Chris Bohjalian fan and The Flight Attendant did not disappoint in any way. Have you ever wondered what it was like to be a flight attendant and meet so many different people? What happens when one flight attendant gets too involved with one passenger? What happens when this passenger is much more than he seems? What happens when the flight attendant has a drinking problem and is always looking for an “adventure” with a passenger? Pick up a copy of The Flight Attendant and follow Cassandra Bowden, a flight attendant with a definite drinking problem, who “wakes up in the wrong hotel, in the wrong bed, with a dead man – and no idea what happened.” Join Cassandra on her journey to prove her innocence. Discover who this dead man was and why he was killed. Eventually, you will find out who killed him. How good of a detective are you? Can you figure it out before Chris Bohjalian lets you in on the truth? Good luck. 03.26.18
BuckeyeGirlReads More than 1 year ago
THE FLIGHT ATTENDANT, by Chris Bohjalian, delivers twists and suspense at 35,000 feet. I love a book with an unreliable narrator and Cassie Bowden fits the bill. The central character of the novel, Cassie is a binge drinking flight attendant. She routinely suffers from blackouts while drinking and lies. A lot. While working a flight from New York to Dubai, Cassie meets Alex Sokolov and the two enjoy a little flirtation during the flight. Once in Dubai, Cassie arranges to meet Alex for dinner and drinks. A lot of drinks. The next morning, Cassie wakes up in Alex’s bed next to his dead body with no memory of the night before. During the course of the investigation into Alex’s death, Cassie isn’t always truthful and seems to make the worst decision she can make in the moment. The novel follows Cassie to Dubai, Paris, New York, and Rome as she struggles to piece together what happened to Alex that night and what role she may have played in his death. Along the way, her lies catch up with her and she begins to doubt her own sanity. Cassie is a flawed character, even a deeply flawed character, often compelled to make decisions that she knows are wrong. What makes her character likable is that, in spite of her mistakes, Cassie is a good person and tries to do the right thing, even if she does it in the wrong way. THE FLIGHT ATTENDANT is a fast paced, suspenseful read with an ending that I didn’t see coming. I really enjoyed Bohjalian’s writing style and I will be looking for his other titles. This book was great fun to read and I highly recommend it. Pick up a copy (out on March 13, 2018) and read this book. You don’t need to be on a plane to enjoy it, but it would be a great choice for a long (or short) trip. Thank you to Doubleday Books and Net Galley for providing me with an e-ARC of this book in exchange for my honest review.
TudorRose More than 1 year ago
THE FLIGHT ATTENDANT, by Chris Bohjalian, delivers twists and suspense at 35,000 feet. I love a book with an unreliable narrator and Cassie Bowden fits the bill. The central character of the novel, Cassie is a binge drinking flight attendant. She routinely suffers from blackouts while drinking and lies. A lot. While working a flight from New York to Dubai, Cassie meets Alex Sokolov and the two enjoy a little flirtation during the flight. Once in Dubai, Cassie arranges to meet Alex for dinner and drinks. A lot of drinks. The next morning, Cassie wakes up in Alex’s bed next to his dead body with no memory of the night before. During the course of the investigation into Alex’s death, Cassie isn’t always truthful and seems to make the worst decision she can make in the moment. The novel follows Cassie to Dubai, Paris, New York, and Rome as she struggles to piece together what happened to Alex that night and what role she may have played in his death. Along the way, her lies catch up with her and she begins to doubt her own sanity. Cassie is a flawed character, even a deeply flawed character, often compelled to make decisions that she knows are wrong. What makes her character likable is that, in spite of her mistakes, Cassie is a good person and tries to do the right thing, even if she does it in the wrong way. THE FLIGHT ATTENDANT is a fast paced, suspenseful read with an ending that I didn’t see coming. I really enjoyed Bohjalian’s writing style and I will be looking for his other titles. This book was great fun to read and I highly recommend it. Pick up a copy (out on March 13, 2018) and read this book. You don’t need to be on a plane to enjoy it, but it would be a great choice for a long (or short) trip. Thank you to Doubleday Books and Net Galley for providing me with an e-ARC of this book in exchange for my honest review.
bookaholique More than 1 year ago
Have you ever wondered what your worse nightmare would be like? It's a pretty safe bet that Cassie has found hers when she wakes up one morning next to a dead man. He was a passenger on a plane where she was a flight attendant. There was an immediate attraction between the two and quite a bit of flirting occurred. They hooked up after landing and LOTS of drinking took place. For Cassie, it was blackout level drinking. And while she was no newbie to this level of drinking and has a few one night stands under her belt, coming to in the morning to discover someone with their throat slit laying next to her is a new one. Unfortunately, Cassie can only remember snippets of the evening. And so begins our journey with Cassie as she tries to piece together what happened not only to save what little dignity she has left, but possibly her job and eventually her life. When I first saw the title I remember thinking - The Flight Attendant - huh. What kind of story could this possibly turn into? Well, let me tell you. This was a real page turner. Not in a rock 'em, sock 'em roller coaster type of page turner. But an evenly paced and suspenseful type of page turner. The story slowly unfolds as Cassie starts discovering clues and putting things together. For all her faults, I found Cassie to be a likeable character. I really wanted her to redeem herself. There are numerous interesting players in this tale, along with a few pretty good twists at the end. This was an exciting read from one of my favorite authors. Bravo! I received this copy from Doubleday via Netgalley.
ReadingGrrl More than 1 year ago
I love Chris Bohjalian books but I had a hard time getting into this one. It might have nothing to do with the book and everything to do with the main character. Cassandra Bowden is an alcoholic who gets drunk and is reckless with her behavior. She drinks too much blacks out, sleeps around and generally behaves in a reckless way at every turn. When she wake up next to her latest conquest in Dubai she finds that while she was passed out someone had come in and practically severed his head from his body. Not knowing what may have happened or her role in it Cassandra leaves the scene without calling he police and gets on her flight back to the USA. Bohjalian is a master story teller of books that always touch on controversy. This one just didn't hit the mark for me. While Cassandra's drunken black outs and outrageous behavior are definitely not glorified I didn't feel the severity and weight of them on her or the people around her with the exception of this new murder.
ASalt More than 1 year ago
“Flight Attendant” by Chris Bohjalian follows Cassandra Bowden, a thirty-nine year old flight attendant who gets embroiled in more than she bargained for when on a flight to Dubai, she has a drunk one-night stand with one of the passengers, Russian-American Alex Sokolov, a hedge fund manager a decade her junior, and wakes up in his hotel room to find him lying dead beside her—apparently murdered while she was asleep. Terrified that she will be accused of his murder, Cassandra flees the hotel, tries to hide any evidence of her presence in his room, lies to her flight attendant friend Megan about her whereabouts the night before—laying aside her questions about Alex who she saw Cassandra flirting with on the flight—and tries to resume her regular-albeit-single flight attendant life, when news of Alex’s murder spreads to the media and Cassandra’s own grainy photographs at the crime scene are unearthed. As usually is with Bohjalian, nothing is ever as it seems in this story. While not a whodunit (the identity of Sokolov’s murder is revealed early on and much of the tension focuses on Cassandra’s safety as the accidental witness to the crime), there’s a plot twist in the end (well, two actually) that were completely unexpected for me. If you think the only villain in this story is Sokolov’s murderer, think again. That’s my only hint. Overall, I found this story to be engaging and atmospheric. When Bohjalian describes Dubai, the place where the event that dominates the plot takes place, I feel I’m there. Same for Italy, Paris, etc. I found it fascinating to read about the life of a flight attendant, and it’s clear the author did extensive research in the area. There’s also a big chunk of the plot which rings very timely in lieu of the Cold War-type actions and events that have recently become a news staple in the media, threatening to overshadow the current presidency and giving the story a ripped-from-the-headlines type of feel.
Fredreeca2001 More than 1 year ago
Cassie is a flight attendant on a run to Dubai. She hooks up with a stranger from the flight and wakes up next to his dead body! She is clueless….did she do this? Or someone else? See, Cassie is a blackout alcoholic, liar, and thief. But, she has some good qualities. She visits the animal shelter every Sunday. She is also a hard worker and she really tries to be a good aunt to her niece and nephew. So, did she really do this? Cassie is an enigma to me. I was torn with my feelings for her. I could not help but think…she brought this on herself. However, I could not help but feel sorry for her situation, especially when it escalates. And boy, does it escalate. FBI, lawyers, media, she is really in a mess. I was completely caught up in Cassie’s dilemma. I read this in two days. It is a mesmerizing page turner. This is what I call a “smart” read. You cannot skip anything or you miss something important. It is an intricate and complex story……THEN THE ENDING! Did not see that coming! Don’t miss this one! I received this novel from Netgalley for a honest review.
teachlz More than 1 year ago
fullsizeoutput_2765MY REVIEW OF “THE FLIGHT ATTENDANT” BY CHRIS BOHJALIAN I was captivated by “The Flight Attendant” By Chris Bohjalian. The genres for this novel are Mystery and Fiction. The author describes his characters as complex and complicated. There is suspense, twists and turns, and drama. After all, Chris Bohjalian is quite adept at describing vivid details and storytelling. Have you ever wondered what the life of a flight attendant might be like? You might think there is adventure, and opportunity for travel. Could you in your wildest dreams imagine danger and murder? Cassandra Bowden has been a flight attendant for years, and has seen and done many things. Cassandra Bowden is also a binge drinker that is subject to blackouts, where she can’t recall often what happens. From NetGalley, here is a significant blurb,” A powerful story about the ways an entire life can change in one night. A flight attendant wakes up in the wrong hotel, in the wrong bed, with a dead man, and no idea what happened.” Is it possible that Cassandra has killed a man, a passenger that she met on her flight? Next thing Cassandra knows is the FBI is involved, the Press is involves, and she if forced to take a really hard look at her shortcomings, and come to grips with her problems. I appreciate that Chris Bohjalian discusses addiction and alcoholism, and the devastating consequences. In would recommend this intense, intriguing mystery for readers that enjoy this genre. I received an Advanced Reading Copy from NetGalley for my honest review.
Anonymous 5 months ago
Ending terrible. Long story . Interesting. Ending rushed and so confusing. from a librarian.
Anonymous 6 months ago