Review: Disconnected and Drifting by Flo Dombey

The tragic echoes of war shake the foundations and faith of a small coastal town in Disconnected and Drifting by Flo Dombey, the prelude piece of her tenderly gripping Willow Chronicle series.

In Lewes, Delaware, a horrific accident and the cover-up shatter the fragile peace of a community still living under the shadow of segregation and post-war suspicion. Chief Meyers, an ex-Marine with a haunted past, investigates the gruesome murder of a young Black boy, but none of the clues make sense, and his eyewitnesses are anything but reliable. With grieving parents on one side and vengeful townsfolk on the other, the case epitomizes the brewing racial tensions and panicked soul of the country.

In this post-World War II portrait of small-town America, many of the core and peripheral characters are veterans, and Dombey explores a range of different impacts and emotional baggage that accompany that. Captain Meyers, Jerry Peterman, Marvel, Joe Esworth, and others carry the weight of their service in myriad ways, from post-traumatic stress symptoms and substance abuse issues to struggles with emotional connection and a penchant for domestic violence. The novel illuminates the heavy toll of service, and the way it shapes the consciousness of individuals and their families, as well as entire regions and the nation as a whole.

As is too often true, the buried burdens of these men are borne by their wives, children, and colleagues, allowing the trauma of war to be passed along to innocent victims. Moses, Greg, Vivian, and Edie are the clearest examples, but every character is impacted by external conflicts for which they are not responsible. Meyers’ balanced views as an investigator are set against the vile ideas and rabid behavior of Jerry Peterman, as well as the latent bigotry of his own colleagues, who have a wide-ranging hunger for retribution and revenge. The interactions between Jerry and Vivian Peterman embody the bigotry of the time with painful clarity, but the storyline is primarily framed around the fallout of unhealed trauma that splashes over to wound others.

With themes of sexual repression, systemic racism, the facade of picket-fence perfection, and the blinding power of willful ignorance, this novel is a stark historical snapshot, but also a sad reflection of modern life, where many of these societal issues still thrive. The story can be challenging and even triggering, at times, particularly from the unfiltered language of the 1950s, and visceral bursts of interpersonal violence, but these elements are critical to the story, and are never gratuitous or handled without delicacy.

The narration is intimate and omniscient, giving readers what often feels like voyeuristic access to characters’ innermost feelings, from Vivian’s secret desires and Greg’s gnawing guilt to the feelings of hopelessness that pervade for many different characters. The dialogue is carefully crafted, believably capturing the unpredictable emotions and intensity of a murder investigation that criss-crosses complex racial and cultural lines, as well as the intense personal dramas that constantly play around the edges of the plot. On a technical level, the writing is polished and professional, allowing the story to unfold without any distractions in quality.

In total, this novel is a powerful and provocative story that shines a light on the flawed past, laying an impressive foundation for the rest of this moving series.