{"product_id":"eagle-crane-isbn-9780399184307","title":"Eagle \u0026 Crane","description":"\u003cb\u003eTwo daredevil flyers and the young woman they both love lie at the heart of this mesmerizing novel about the Japanese internment during World War II, \u003cb\u003efrom the author of \u003ci\u003eThe Other Typist \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003eThree-Martini Lunch\u003c\/i\u003e.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"An epic love story set against a time of upheaval.\" \u003cb\u003e—Adriana Trigiani\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Majestic. . . . Profoundly relevant in today’s world.\" —Fiona Davis\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Louis Thorn and Harry Yamada are boyhood friends divided by family differences. But their childhood camaraderie reignites when they are convinced to perform death-defying tricks as Eagle \u0026amp; Crane in Earl Shaw’s Flying Circus —until their mutual attraction to Shaw’s stepdaughter, smart and beautiful Ava Brooks, complicates things anew. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Then Pearl Harbor is bombed in December 1941 and Harry is imprisoned in a Japanese American internment camp. When a Shaw stunt plane crashes soon after Harry and his father leave the camp without permission, the two bodies discovered are assumed to be theirs. But the details don’t add up, and no one involved seems willing to tell the truth. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e An absorbing mystery and story of love, \u003ci\u003eEagle \u0026amp; Crane\u003c\/i\u003e explores race, family, and loyalty in a fraught era of American history.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e“Rindell joins the ranks of popular historical fiction authors Kristin Hannah and Kate Quinn with this fast-paced, gripping novel.” —\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e (starred review) \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eEagle \u0026amp; Crane\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Suzanne Rindell takes to the heavens in this glorious story of two daring aviators during the Great Depression. She’s written an epic love story set against a time of upheaval, suspicion and change. A magnificent novel from a great writer.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003eAdriana Trigiani, bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eKiss Carlo\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Rindell joins the ranks of popular historical fiction authors Kristin Hannah and Kate Quinn with this fast-paced, gripping novel that compellingly explores a tumultuous era of 20th-century history.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e (starred review) \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Masterfully told, completely immersive, with indepth characters who illustrate the social complexities of the time, this is an unforgettable historical novel, similar in impact to \u003ci\u003eSnow Falling on Cedars\u003c\/i\u003e, by David Guterson, and \u003ci\u003eHotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet\u003c\/i\u003e, by Jamie Ford.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003eBooklist \u003c\/i\u003e(starred review)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Rindell's sweeping generational saga will please fans of immersive, meticulously researched historicals.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Wildly ambitious and filled with heartbreak (I love heartbreak), Suzanne Rindell’s third novel mesmerizingly pilots us through the Depression, the 1930s, Pearl Harbor, and the love one fierce young woman has for two very different aviators. Passionate, profound and an absolutely daredevil act of imagination.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003eCaroline Leavitt, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e-bestselling author of \u003ci\u003ePictures of You\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eCruel Beautiful World\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\"In this blazing saga about a flying circus, Rindell performs death-defying plot twists that race toward the shocking conclusion. \u003ci\u003eEagle \u0026amp; Crane\u003c\/i\u003e is a majestic historical novel that is profoundly relevant in today’s world.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003eFiona Davis, author of \u003ci\u003eThe Address\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eThe Dollhouse\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A white-knuckled historical mystery and collision course of cultures, \u003ci\u003eEagle \u0026amp; Crane\u003c\/i\u003e threads a fascinating tale through the half-silenced world of Japanese internment in America. Timely, expertly researched, and provocative.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003eDominic Smith\u003ci\u003e, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times-\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of \u003ci\u003e\u003ci\u003eThe Last Painting of Sara de Vos\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“Elegantly interweaving a lyrical love triangle with the spectacle of Depression-era barnstorming, the plight of Japanese Americans during the Second World War, and a bitter family feud spanning generations, \u003ci\u003eEagle \u0026amp; Crane\u003c\/i\u003e poignantly plumbs still deeper waters: how far loyalty and friendship can be tested, and what it means to be an American\u003ci\u003e\u003ci\u003e.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e”\u003ci\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/i\u003eLyndsay Faye, Edgar-nominated author of \u003ci\u003e\u003ci\u003eJane Steele \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/i\u003eand the Timothy Wilde trilogySuzanne Rindell is the author of two previous novels, \u003ci\u003eThe Other Typist\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eThree-Martini Lunch\u003c\/i\u003e. She earned her Ph.D. in literature from Rice University, and divides her time between New York and California.1\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Newcastle, California * September 16, 1943\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e They bump along the country road, rolling through golden hills      that are punctuated with granite boulders and dotted with clusters      of oak trees that appear blackish green from afar. Every so often      the road dips through a marshy patch here, a thicket of wild      blackberry bushes there. Broken branches and nibbled leaves; the      signs of beaver and deer. Verdant meadows and white flashes of      cabbageworm moths. As they near the orchard, clouds of sparrows      and finches make nervous, disorganized dives at the soft yellow      weeds around the plum trees, little groups of them assembling like      constellations and abruptly breaking up again, each and every tiny      nervous body keeping one eye turned to the sky for the shadowy      shape of a hawk soaring high above.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e When they reach the break in the low split-rail fence, the sheriff      steers the car onto the property and along the dirt drive, through      the many rows of trees, and toward the leaning peak of the largest      foothill. The morning air is laced with the sharp, peppery scent      of dry grass burning.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Awful smoky out,\" Agent Bonner remarks, once the automobile comes      to a stop.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Rice fields,\" the deputy says as the three men step out of the      sheriff's old Model A. \"Somewhere down in the valley. It's after      harvest, see. This is when they burn 'em. Smoke gets trapped up      here, against the foothills. Kind of sets around a spell.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The sky is indeed filled with a thick haze, turning it the color      of dull gunmetal; the sun is a flat white disc, small as a dime      and lost in a sea of gray.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It's routine farming business. The rice fields aren't Jap-owned,\"      Deputy Henderson continues. \"Or if they were, they aren't      anymore.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He is young, the right age for a soldier, but there is an air of      being excluded about him, and of lingering teenage angst. Probably      flat-footed. Or poor eyesight, Bonner thinks. Those are the most      common 4-Fs, when you can't tell by simply looking at a man.      Henderson's hair is the color of tarnished brass; his face and      neck are very pink, the flesh cratered, ropey and swollen with      acne. Just to look at him, a man could feel the sting of what it      must feel like to shave.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Let's get this over with,\" Sheriff Whitcomb says. At least it is      obvious why he isn't marching around in a uniform on the front:      too old. He is thin, with haunted blue eyes. A pair of jowls and      one tuft of white hair sprouting from an otherwise shiny dome.      Bonner spied the tuft back at the station, before the sheriff      reached for his hat and offered to drive the group out to the      ranch. Every town seems to have a pair like this, Bonner thinks.      Henderson and Whitcomb. One will eventually replace the other, and      the cycle will begin again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You said Louis Thorn is living in the old farmhouse now?\" the      sheriff calls over his shoulder, speaking to Henderson. He is      polite enough to Agent Bonner, but it is clear he prefers to      pretend the agent is invisible.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yes.\" Deputy Henderson answers the sheriff in a quick, eager      voice. \"Old Man Yamada signed it over to him, before they lost      legal rights. So Louis owns it fair and square.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"That's mighty interesting,\" Agent Bonner remarks. Bonner's      certainly heard of cases where Japanese families had signed over      their property to their white neighbors before being evacuated to      the camps. In every single case, the Japanese were hoping to      eventually have their land, homes, and cars returned to them,      which implied a kind of special trust in one's neighbors.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It ain't how you think. The whole town was mighty shocked the      Yamadas did that,\" Henderson says. \"The Thorns and the Yamadas had      a long-standing dispute over this land.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Why'd he sign it over to the Thorn family, then, if there was bad      blood?\" Bonner asks. He looks to Whitcomb, but Whitcomb shrugs and      looks away, his gaze dilating with disinterest. Bonner can tell      the sheriff finds explaining town gossip to an outsider tedious.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Louis Thorn and Harry Yamada was friends-sort of,\" Whitcomb says,      dispassionately. \"Maybe Old Man Yamada put some stock in that. The      old man didn't have any friends who weren't Japanese, himself.      Maybe he figured it was worth a shot.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Took a fat chance on that,\" Deputy Henderson grunts, reaching one      hand up to rub at his pimply face. \"I say Louis ain't givin' this      land back. His father and grandfather always told him this land      was Thorn property in the first place. They'd likely roll over in      their graves if he was to think about giving it back.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"All right,\" Whitcomb says, pulling out his revolver, spinning the      cylinder to ensure all six rounds are there, and putting it back      in his holster. \"Let's just see if he knows anything. Keep it      civilized. Should be pretty straightforward. We're talking about a      law-abiding citizen here; I don't have any reason to believe Louis      Thorn'd lie to us.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e They begin walking up the incline of the foothill toward the tidy      white clapboard house nestled into the hillside just below the      top. Louis Thorn might be living in it now, but Old Man Yamada had      originally built it half a century ago-back when the latter was      still a baby-faced young man, an early settler to the area. The      house sits into the hill in a slightly cantilevered fashion, with      a small wraparound porch from which a person can look out over the      orchards below; neat rows of plum trees extend below one side of      the house, a grove of satsumas in the middle, and almond trees on      the other. The property consists of some fifty-odd acres, and as      the three men climb the foothill now, they can see that the trees      eventually peter out to reveal a wide, flat pasture some distance      away. As they pause to look, three sets of eyes fall upon the      far-off shape of a small, impromptu hangar down below, looking as      though it had been thrown together hastily from available      materials.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It is the place where the Yamadas kept their biplane, and where      Louis Thorn purportedly still keeps it now. Or so Agent Bonner has      been informed. The F.B.I. took special note of the biplane after      the two remaining members of the Yamada clan-Kenichi and Haruto      \"Harry\" Yamada-broke out of the Tule Lake Relocation Center, where      they were being detained. The plane made the F.B.I. more nervous      than usual, but either way the Yamadas were to be tracked down and      returned to the segregation center, and as soon as possible.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The three men arrive in front of the house and climb up the twenty      or so stairs that lead up to the porch. No need to knock; their      boots make a good deal of noise on the wooden planks. The screen      door swings open on creaking hinges before the third man reaches      the top stair.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"May I help you fellas?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The door claps shut. Louis Thorn, dressed in a long-sleeved      undershirt and trousers, his suspenders hanging beside his hips,      looks at the men standing on his porch, glancing searchingly from      one to the next. One half of his face is dewy, clean-shaven. The      other half is covered in lather. He is still clutching the      straight razor in his left hand.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e At the sight of the razor, Whitcomb lightly touches a hand to the      butt of the gun on his own hip. \"Mornin', Louis. The way I hear      it, you got the run of things here these days,\" the sheriff says,      taking the lead.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"That's right,\" Louis responds. There is a note of caution in his      voice. He looks over the sheriff's shoulder, taking in the      unfamiliar sight of Agent Bonner. For a brief instant Louis      appears startled to see the F.B.I. agent, but quickly recovers      himself.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Looks like you settled into the place pretty good,\" the sheriff      presses on.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Louis returns his gaze to the sheriff but doesn't reply.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I take it you heard about them Yamada boys already.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I heard,\" Louis says. His voice is low, steady.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Then you know we're here to ask you if you seen 'em.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Louis blinks. \"Harry and Mr. Yamada?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yes.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I reckon this is the last place they'd come.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"So you're telling me you ain't seen them?\" the sheriff prods.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"No.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"And you wouldn't be inclined to help those Yamada boys if they      came knocking?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I told you, I haven't seen them since.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"All right, all right,\" the sheriff relents. \"You understand, we      gotta ask, Louis. Agent Bonner here can't go about his business      till them boys have been found.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Mr. Thorn.\" Agent Bonner introduces himself, clearing his throat      and extending his hand. Louis hesitates, then passes the straight      razor to his other hand. The handshake is curt.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Look here, Louis,\" the sheriff continues, \"I don't know what you      got goin' on in that head of yours. Maybe you got it in your head      to protect these fellers, even if they're Japs. Or maybe,\" he      says, lowering his voice, \"you've gotten accustomed to being a      property owner. Ain't no crime in that. Maybe if they came back      here they wouldn't exactly be welcome. Like I said . . . I don't      know what you got goin' on in that head of yours. But, to tell you      the truth, I'm an old man, and I could give two shits.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Whitcomb pauses, certain that he has everyone's attention now.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What I do know,\" the sheriff adds, \"is that it would make all of      our lives a hell of a lot easier if you let us take a look around      the property and see if we can't prove you're telling us the      truth.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Louis is silent a moment. \"All right,\" he finally answers.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The sheriff nods. Louis moves as if to go back inside the house to      finish his shave.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"The biplane,\" Agent Bonner says, reminding everyone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh,\" the sheriff says, turning back to Louis. \"The agent here has      to ask you some questions about that airplane being kept on the      property . . .\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yes?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"How'd that plane come into your possession?\" Bonner begins.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Louis hesitates. \"Bank auction,\" he says.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Bonner has read the file: he knows that Louis is skipping details,      leaving out the part where Kenichi Yamada-not Louis-bought the      plane at a bank auction, and only later signed it over to Louis.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"We used it for our flying circus act, but I don't do that stuff      anymore. I work for the U.S. Army Air Corps as an instructor up at      the Lincoln airfield. I train flyboys headed to the Pacific,      mostly.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Bonner already knows this, too, but does not interrupt. It was      always better to let people do their own telling.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Do both Yamada men know how to fly the plane?\" Bonner asks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Louis shakes his head. \"Only Harry.\" He pauses, then repeats      Harry's full name as though to clarify. \"Haruto Yamada.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"And before your instructor days, you and Haruto Yamada\"-Agent      Bonner flips open a notebook-\"you charged spectators to watch you      perform stunts in this plane? That's how the two of you became      friendly?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Louis shrugs. \"Originally, we both worked for Earl Shaw and put on      a barnstorming act for his flying circus. Later we had our own act      . . . it was called Eagle \u0026amp; Crane.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Eagle \u0026amp; Crane?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Uh-huh.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Sounds mighty . . .\" Agent Bonner pauses, looking into the air      for the proper word. \"Showy.\" Louis narrows his eyes just slightly      at Bonner, but Bonner presses on. \"What sort of tricks did you      perform?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Oh, wing walking and barrel rolls and such,\" Louis replies. \"With      Earl's show, sometimes we flew two planes in formation, did      loop-the-loops. Later it was more choreographed stunts. Parachute      jumps, that type of thing.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Bonner nods. He scribbles a note.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Say . . .\" Louis asks, his eyes narrowing again. \"Why so many      questions about our business with the plane?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Well,\" Bonner says, clearing his throat, \"it goes without saying      that the Bureau feels an escaped evacuee who knows how to fly an      airplane might be a liability.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Louis doesn't comment. Bonner knows he's obligated to ask the      questions the F.B.I. expects him to ask, so he presses on.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Do you have any reason to believe Mr. Yamada might attempt to      gain access to your biplane?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Louis pauses, considering. He shakes his head.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"If Haruto Yamada was able to gain access to the biplane, do you      have any reason to believe he might use his flying skills to      commit an act of war?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"An act of war?\" Louis repeats. \"You mean hurt folks with the      plane somehow?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yeah,\" Deputy Henderson suddenly chimes in. \"I'll be damned if      Pearl Harbor ain't taught us all about how vicious those Japs can      be-can't put anything past a-one of 'em!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Louis's head snaps irritably in Deputy Henderson's direction. His      hand holding the straight razor twitches.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"No,\" Louis answers, returning his attention to Agent Bonner. \"I      don't think Harry would do anything along those lines. It's not .      . . it's not Harry.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You sound defensive on Harry's behalf,\" Bonner remarks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I'm not defensive.\" Louis stiffens. \"I'm just not going to say      something is one way when I know it's another. Harry ain't about      to steal the Stearman and crash it.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e As if by the most absurd cue, their ears suddenly prick to the      sound of an airplane engine droning in the distance. Louis knows      from the sound of it that the plane is flying at an unusually high      altitude, the steady whine of the engine humming like a dying      mosquito.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e All four men-Louis included-hurry to the railing at the edge of      the porch and look up. Sure enough, there in the sky is the      familiar silhouette of the Stearman. The group stares at the      plane, powerless and immobile as they watch it inch across the      sky, all of them mute as they listen to it drone along.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But then they hear an even more alarming noise. The engine      sputters and coughs, and for one long, horrendous second shudders      loudly, until finally it goes silent. It is a sequence of sounds      Louis has never heard the airplane make before, a noise ever so      slightly different from the stalling noise it makes if you pull up      too hard . . . and yet, the second he hears it, Louis recognizes      the sound with a sick feeling in his gut: It is the engine running      out of gas.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e What happens next is baffling. The biplane falls from the sky, a      flying thing no longer, like Icarus and his melted wings. No one      pulls up on the nose or raises the wing flaps. Instead it drops      like a stone, or-even swifter-like a bird diving on purpose. But a      bird can recover from such a dive. A small biplane cannot-that is,      not without an expert pilot intent on maneuvering the contraption      for all it was worth.","brand":"G.P. Putnam's Sons","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46302197448933,"sku":"NP9780399184307","price":22.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780399184307.jpg?v=1767725795","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/eagle-crane-isbn-9780399184307","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}