Reading about how miners at the diamond mines used pigeons to steal diamonds was interesting, but what this book highlights is how these companies exploit their workers. They are paid a pittance for each diamond and are forced to jump all sorts of hoops that are supposed to defer the theft.

This is ostensibly the story of how workers in diamond mines use trained homing pigeons to smuggle diamonds out of the mines when they’re working, but really this is much more the story of the diamond mining industry in South Africa - more specifically the history of the company De Beers. The author talks about the company and their practices in the area, the mineral rights they have, how they treat employees and deal with smuggling, and how they’re trying to “restore” areas that have been mined & depleted.

We meet people from all sides of this story: one specific miner/smuggler and his pet pigeon whom he uses to smuggle diamonds out of the mine, people who work for De Beers in different capacities (including groups that go out shooting pigeons since the company has basically made it mandatory to shoot them on sight since the company knows how the birds are being used). Then there’s this mythical figure looming over everything - Mr. Lester - an all-seeing, all-knowing servant of the corporation who supposedly will come after you if you step out of line. The author’s initial purpose for writing this book is hazy, but he eventually does point at a motivation, which is to see if this Mr. Lester is real, and if he is, he wants to find him.

As the book goes along, you start to see that what you're reading is a mixture of the story of De Beers and the smugglers and the pigeons, but also the author’s story of collecting that story. So he uses a journalistic, travel writing approach, but it seems like he was trying to write it like a deep, profound memoir or novel. And if that was indeed how he envisioned this book, it starts off promising when the author, at the beginning of the book, begins to bring his life story into the mix.

He’s in South Africa in the first place because his wife grew up there, and we learn that the two of them have been trying to start a family, but that every single pregnancy (and there were multiple ones) has tragically ended in miscarriage. They are in South Africa to spread the ashes of the child they’ve most recently lost. He tells us that part of his interest in these carrier pigeons is because the ideas of carrying and miscarrying are on his mind.

When I read that, I thought it was an intriguing, albeit heartbreaking concept and it seemed to promise a really personal and introspective element to this book. But even through he mentions his partner - Louisa - and hints at their pain here and there throughout the book, it ended up being a promise unfulfilled.

But that wasn’t the major letdown of this book for me. Besides the fact that I was confused most of the way through about what the author was trying to do or say in this book, I found it to be unforgivably overdone. The prose is self-serving and flowery. It needed major edits, but I think if someone were to take a red pen to this, the book you'd be left with would be a third of this book's size, and then it would be the size of the magazine article that it absolutely should have been instead.

This is a common thing I’ve noticed in a lot of recent nonfiction I’ve read: stories are made into books when there's only enough material for it to be an extended piece in a magazine. I’ve even read books that were first magazine pieces, but then were turned into books because there was more there to explore. One of those was The Feather Thief by Kirk Wallace Johnson, which I loved and which I thought would be similar to this, with the whole birds plus thieving thing. But the next "Feather Thief" this book was not.

There were occasional moments when I thought the author made really good observations or phrased something well, but most of the time, immediately after he would do something I liked, the words just kept coming and sullied the whole mood or image he had just built for me. I spent most of the book feeling so badly for the pigeons, I didn't understand why the health impacts of working in this mine weren't explored. The entire story only further proves to me that the diamond industry is exploitative in every sense of the word and I’m so glad I don’t own one.

I had high hopes for Flight of the Diamond Smugglers, but it turned out to be more rough than diamond-in-the-rough.

A look into the dismal and violent world of diamond mining. This is not a story of illegal “blood diamonds” but the often inhumane practices of the legitimate diamond operations of the DeBeers Group. The author weaves his own story with a history of South Africa’s Diamond Coast. Not for the faint of heart, Frank details the vicious diamond trade of the late 1800’s as well as the poverty and brutal practices still central to the diamond industry. The “diamond smugglers” of the title are trained carrier pigeons smuggled into diamond mines by underpaid (often underage) miners. The birds are sent home carrying diamonds attached to their legs or wings. It is a chance for freedom from poverty, but dangerous for both the workers and the birds. The fast-paced narrative will keep you reading.

Strange, beautiful book, weaving together a deeply personal memoir, notes on natural history, and devastating reporting on the diamond business. It can be pretty dark and even a little disturbing, but it should not come as a surprise regarding the topic. The writing is very poetic and sometimes dense, but it is hard to put down. After reading this, the diamonds will never look the same for me. All of them are bloody, apparently.

Thanks to the publisher, W. W. Norton & Company, and NetGalley for an advanced copy of this book.