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One summer weekend in 1949--but not our 1949--the well-connected "Farthing set," a group of upper-crust English families, enjoy a country retreat. Lucy is a minor daughter in one of those families; her parents were both leading figures in the group that overthrew Churchill and negotiated peace with Herr Hitler eight years before. Despite her parents' evident disapproval, Lucy is married--happily--to a London Jew. It was therefore quite a surprise to Lucy when she and her husband David found themselves invited to the retreat. It's even more startling when, on the retreat's first night, a major politician of the Farthing set is found gruesomely murdered, with abundant signs that the killing was ritualistic. It quickly becomes clear to Lucy that she and David were brought to the retreat in order to pin the murder on him. Major political machinations are at stake, including an initiative in Parliament, supported by the Farthing set, to limit the right to vote to university graduates. But whoever's behind the murder, and the frame-up, didn't reckon on the principal investigator from Scotland Yard being a man with very private reasons for sympathizing with outcasts and looking beyond the obvious. As the trap slowly shuts on Lucy and David, they begin to see a way out--a way fraught with peril in a darkening world."… (more)
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What made this a very enjoyable read for me was the political subplot. Set in an alternate
The book is not perfect. There is a bit of an obsession with homosexuality (the reader begins to wonder if virtually everyone is homo- or bisexual in this England) and all characters seem to possess an infallible gay-dar. The mystery does whimper a bit to an ending as the political threads in the book come to the fore.
However, the parallels for us in our modern political climate are engrossing, thought-provoking and, quite frankly, a bit scary. I didn't want to put the book down and look forward to the sequel.
I have a deep and abiding love of alternate histories and alternate universes, and this is one done exceptionally well. The setting isn't explored too much in the early parts of the book, but the skill of the prose in those sections
Lucy, one of the two narrators, annoyed me a bit for the first few chapters--she seemed much too flighty. (In fact, for those few chapters, I'm not sure I'd read a character that better fit that adjective.) But she grew on me, and I think, when I reread this, I'll find it more of a case of her having taken on the flightiness she was expected to have by members of her class, rather than an innate character trait. Still, that took a while getting over.
While I appreciated the appearance of bisexual characters, whose bisexuality was treated as 1) not a joke and 2) not making them unsuitable partners, the sheer number of queer characters in this book was a bit excessive. There was no reason for the group of people involved to have been so very non-heterosexual in practice as well as inclination. I think there was intended to be some sort of illustrative thing--how much harder it is for the lower-class gay character than the upper-class ones--but the sheer number of examples moved it from illuminating to ridiculous, for me.
Some minor spoilers involving mood rather than detail:
There are two things I especially love about this book. One of them is that at the end of the book, while both protagonists have the general outlines of the mystery solved, neither of them actually has the full story. The focus has shifted away from the mystery at that point, but it was an interesting subversion of the mystery genre, one I hadn't realized I was looking for until I read it. The other was that reading along, I had a spectrum in my head of the ways this political situation could end (informed by the fact that I knew there were sequels of a sort). But even with that, my worst-case scenario was actually a lot friendlier than the ending of the book. I'm actually holding off on reading the sequels until I have time to sit down and savor them fully, even though I want to be reading them RIGHT NOW.
Highly recommended.
The events quickly are: the leading person of the "Farthing Set" (who signed the peace agreement and created friendly terms with Hitler) is killed in his own countryside house during party night. An unwanted Jewish man, who married in the family and a random fake communist are wrongly insinuated in the death and this I used as pretenses to breaking down on reds and Jews. Meanwhile the real killers are the other members of the Farthing Set, who are rapacious for more power. The narration's point of view is alternating between the gay detective's and the family's daughter's who married out to the Jewish small-loan banker. The voice Walton created for her is subtle, honest and the funniest in the whole lot.
The story alternates between two
Both of these voices were delightful, full of moral ambiguity and depth. I was only sorry the story ended so abruptly, and I am keen to read the next book.
Alternate history should evoke wonder or horror, but I found the worldbuilding dull here. The premise itself seems unbelievable -
It just isn't, though. Alternate Britain in 1949 feels exactly like actual Britain in 1939. Pro-fascism and anti-Semitism are rampant, people feel uncomfortable having capitulated to Hitler but don't like the alternative of war, and everyone goes on living their lives. This is a trilogy, so Walton has two more books to enthrall and horrify us, but she doesn't do nearly enough in this first volume to make us invested in the world she's created. I'd honestly rather just reread The Remains of the Day.
This book is a mystery novel as well as an alternate history. The mystery drives the narrative, but is unfortunately a big mess. The first half is beautifully set up with interesting character conflicts, puzzling clues, and lots of potential suspects. The second half serves up a convoluted reveal that hinges on an unbelievable conspiracy and never fully explains the mechanism by which the murder was committed. Talk about breaking promises to your reader!
I may have a personal axe to grind here, as I detest conspiracy theories in fiction and in reality. I had to read Holy Blood, Holy Grail in college for an Arthurian Literature class and I've never fully recovered. People in power will lie, cheat, mislead, and seize on random events to further their goals (remember the Maine!) but they do not generally execute convoluted schemes. Politicians aren't supervillains. So I found this book's conclusion unrealistic.
On a final, unrelated note, this book was a good example of how to deal with GLBTQ themes poorly. It could have been much worse - I really appreciated that being gay or lesbian in this book did not consign you to being a miserable, untrusting malcontent, as certain storytellers of historical fiction *cough*JulianFellowes*cough* would like us to believe.
Unfortunately, Walton goes in the opposite direction and decides that portraying gay characters positively means using anachronistic language and concepts. One character has invented her own personal Kinsey scale, another actually uses the phrase "sexual orientation" (WHUT). The ideas about sexuality that would have defined gay and lesbian culture in 1940s Britain are nowhere evident. Also, everyone in this book has MYSTERIOUSLY ACCURATE gaydar, but that's perhaps its own problem.
Having torn this book to shreds, I would actually give Jo Walton a try again. I just won't read any more of her historical fiction.
A slightly different version of this review can be found on my blog, she reads and reads.
In Farthing, Jo Walton gives readers an alternate form of the Golden Age mystery – my favorite genre. I loved the points of similarity, but I found the differences unsettling. I find it satisfying to read about the righting of wrongs and the triumph of justice in Golden Age mysteries. It provides an escape from real life, when all too often crimes go unsolved or the guilty go free on technicalities. In this way the alternate history of Farthing is more like the real world than the world of the Golden Age mystery.
Such scope for an
It’s not chilling on every page. The sun shines and tea is served on the lawn. People love as well as hate and life, the everyday world, is normal (as far as I can tell, having never lived in either the landed gentry or the 1940s). While some characters are repulsive, those the reader spends most time with are endearing.
As a depiction of mid-Twentieth Century England it is vivid; as a collection of character studies it is subtle and lucid. As a study of sinister political philosophy, human fallibility, and ethical ambiguity, it is profound and disturbing. Yet as an old-fashioned detective story, it’s fun. It doesn’t even flag in the middle as so many stories do.
I’m left with my thoughts thoroughly provoked and missing the heroine badly. Time to get hold of the sequels, Ha’penny and Half a Crown.
This is
Lucy Eversley Kahn has done the unthinkable. A debutante of the Farthing Set has gone and married a Jew.
One summer weekend, Lucy and her husband David are invited to her ancestral home, Farthing Manor. That weekend, one of the set is murdered and it looks like a Jew did the deed. Everything points to the only Jew around. Everyone knows the Jew, David, did it.
This is a study of bigotry, pride, prejudice, hatred, and human frailty wrapped up in a murder mystery. Many questions are asked. Why do we hate? Why are we afraid of that which we do not understand? If it can happen to the other guy, what can I do to make sure it does not happen to me? That last question is easy to answer. Not one darn thing.
A frightening what if. Also frightening in that it could still happen oh so quickly now.
A great read. I heartily recommend.
It reads something like a 1930's-1940's detective novel but with some changes that make it different and compelling. I liked the characters and their motivations were understandable.
The only thing I really would have changed would be the pregnancy scene, because I just hate that mystical "I'm pregnant at the moment we're having sex"
We've all read mysteries from the Golden Age with the very casual racial epithets and the ever-present anti-semitism. Many readers are able to at least be a bit charitable about it all, because we know the outcome of WW 2. But this book puts us right on our uppers, where we belong: prejudice is wrong, no matter how cosy the ambience is. Walton manages to create a quietly chilling, indeed sickening, picture of what could have happened. She also shows how the aristocracy might have continued as the incredibly entrenched rulers, with no input from the ordinary folks.
It helps if the reader has a working knowledge of Nazi Germany and its history, at least in outline.
Highly recommended.
Rather than that straight-forward and outright horror, the horror in this book is … sneakier.
"In May of 1941, the war looked dark for Britain. We and our Empire stood alone, entirely without allies. The Luftwaffe and the RAF were fighting their deadly duel above our heads. Our allies France, Belgium, Holland, Poland, and Denmark had been utterly conquered. Our ventures to defy the Reich in Norway and Greece had come to nothing, The USSR was allied to the Reich, and the increasingly isolationist USA was sending us only grudging aid. We feared and prepared for invasion. In this dark time, the Fuhrer extended a tentative offer to us. Hess flew to Britain with a tentative offer of peace, each side to keep what they had. Churchill refused to consider it, but wiser heads prevailed…"
Wiser heads prevailed, and those damned isolationists in the US held sway, and Britain made a peace with Hitler, and now most if not all of Europe is under a blanket of fascism. Being Jewish is a very, very difficult thing, when it isn't outright life-threatening, wherever you are. And Orwell imagines his dystopia happening ten years earlier than in this world. (That is a lovely subtle touch.) And the United States is led by President Lindbergh – which … Heaven forbid.
And it is in this universe that Lucy and her Jewish husband David return to her family's estate for a house party, during which there is a good old-fashioned country house murder.
There were things I did not like; Lucy uses a verbal shorthand she had developed, but the reader is not clued into exactly what she's talking about until what seemed like a ridiculous ways in. (Page 96 – looked it up. So a third of the way through the book.) It's pretty clear through context what she means by "Athenian" and "Macedonian" and so on – but not totally clear, and a little baffling as to WHY she would be saying "Athenian" and "Macedonian" and so on.
I never warmed up to most of the characters. Heaven knows Lucy's family didn't deserve warming up to…they are snobs of the first water.
"How many servants do you get by with?"
"Just three," David said. "A cook, a housemaid, and a kitchen maid. …"
"You dress yourselves??"
- Goodness me. And here I thought that was something one was taught to do as a toddler.
And Lucy – one of the two point of view characters – began to grate on me. She says, often, that she isn't too bright, though the plan she comes up with is not terrible … but her speech and behavior thoroughly agrees with the "not too bright". Is it all a front? Does she really think she's stupid (perhaps because her mother has taught her so) when she's not so dumb after all? Who knows? She is rather flighty, and certainly fanciful: to avoid spoilers, I'll just say that she develops an unshakeable certainty of something about which she couldn't possibly have a clue, and proceeds from that first moment of certainty as if what she believes is rock solid truth. Is it? Who knows?
Speaking of servants … Things are a bit odd with them in the country house where the good old country house murder takes place. I mean … they're servants, when all's said and done, employees hired and paid to do specific jobs, in a class structure which requires them to show respect to their social "betters". But here the attitudes are extraordinary – and Mrs. Simons, the housekeeper, is outright offensive. Blatantly, intentionally, viciously rude. Lucy: "I didn't like how quickly I'd resorted to threatening to sack her" – WHY? My God, are you mad? Fire that nasty cow and eject her so hard and fast she bounces twice going down the drive.
The book alternates viewpoints between Lucy, on the scene of the murder, and Inspector Carmichael, in charge of investigating said murder. And it's all rather repetitive – not even just because of dual points of view, which is handled fairly well. "He might have committed suicide." "Why would he kill himself?" then a little while later "He might have killed himself." "Why would he commit suicide?" This happens over and over.
I gave this four stars to start with, but – after some time has passed, and having listened to the ensuing two books, and just looking at the notes I made while listening to this one – I bumped it down to three. Because on the whole I really, really hated this series – and, honestly, with the level of exasperation in what I wrote at the time I'm a little shocked that I did rate it higher.
In the 1940's Lucy Kahn is attending a weekend house party at her ancestral home, Farthings Castle, together with her husband David. Lucy had married the son of a Jewish banker, much to the disapproval of her aristocratic family, and her husband is tolerated at best. And when a fellow guest, Sir James Fairlie, is found murdered with indications that the murderer might have been Jewish, suspicion immediately falls on David Kahn. For in this version of the 1940's Britain made peace with Hitler's Germany in 1941, and Sir James Fairlie was the man who made it happen, as well as being part of a government which is making anti-semitism more and more acceptable. But Inspector Carmichael, drafted in from Scotland Yard, starts to think that the obvious solution is just a little too simple ...
I have three main problems with this book. The first is that it is a clear reworking of the country house mystery genre, which is one that I have never read or really been attracted to. The second, which I can't really elaborate on without going into spoilers, is that the reason finally identified for the murder seems altogether implausible and (to me at least) a hugely unlikely way for anyone to go about achieving its stated aim.
But my third and main problem is that I don't really believe in the alternative world that has been created. It might be the view of Britain that you could believe in from reading nothing but the country house mysteries mentioned above, a world of the aristocracy and the upper middle classes, a place where the poorer classes are represented only as servants and villains, but even before the Second World War this was a society on the way out. And in this novel it is key to the plot that the Farthings Set, an aristocratic political grouping with distinctly fascist leanings, are leading a popular government despite having the sort of policies which seem designed to completely disempower the working classes. And it's here that my major problems start as I just can't imagine any government of the time getting away with the sort of policies that the Farthing set seem to be enacting quite easily, without there being major political and social insurrection (riots, general strikes, marches, you get the idea). While I can imagine certain members of the aristocracy wanting to do it, I just can't imagine them actually being able to do it without meaningful opposition. The government has apparently been voted in in 'gratitude' for the peace that the Farthing Set brokered, but I'm not a great believer in gratitude when it comes to politics. After all Churchill was widely credited by the British people with winning the Second World War but it didn't stop him being thrown out on his ear when it came to the election in 1945!
So complaints over, this is still a decent read that's well worth giving a go. And I will certainly be trying the next one in the series. But it certainly doesn't live up to her other work in my opinion.
While I enjoyed Farthing a lot (it's written just wonderfully, and Walton handles her characters, setting, and plot deftly), the book did feel a bit uneven. It eventually becomes clear that things are even a lot worse than they appear in this version of Britain, and the book goes from interestingly sinister to downright chilling in the last few chapters. That move was appropriate, and, indeed, it felt the like the book was building toward it all along. But the transition still seemed a little rushed, and the novel ultimately felt not wholly in balance because of it. I'm also still puzzling over Walton's choice to make so many of her characters here secretly gay. Of the major players (easily a dozen), at least five turn out to be Also Gay, by which I mean they are introduced as having a certain bearing on the story (such as being a major figure in the politics of Britain) and then a while later we find out that they are also gay (or bi) (with the fact of their sexuality rarely having anything to do with the plot). I am always happy to see people who historically have often been elided from fiction better represented on the page, but the way Walton kept sliding this fact in about many of her characters led me to suspect that the fact of their sexuality was going be become very important either thematically or in the plot. And it never did. Curious. Perhaps it will become clear in the second book in the series, which I am excited to read.
This was a really engrossing read and I couldn't put this book down even to cook. I'm really happy I found this author.
In a library where books were shelved by their relationships to other books, Farthing would find itself nearby Ishiguro’s Never
The style is that of a 1950s murder mystery in an English manor house, the twist is that it takes place in an alternate
It should come as a spoiler to nobody that one of the key goals of this book is to show how wrong a Hitler compromise scenario would have been. It was impressive to me that this is rather obvious from the get-go, but the author still convinces the reader that it is even more insidious when you actually go through the thought exercise of looking at underlying antisemitism and homophobia just creeping along.
It was also amusing to me how I have grown so used to this genre of English mystery that when it goes in a different direction, I was offended on some level, like a "hey, this is NOT the way it works" reaction, which I suppose goes hand and hand with Nazis.
I had a few points where the book wasn't quite working for me -- the wacky mechanics of the murder were too wacky; the wide-eyed Mitford-esque family slang was a little too forced; I kept waiting for other qualities deemed undesirable by the Nazis to come into the story; there is a running thing about tea that I didn't get at all, and I don't know whether it's because I'm not smart enough, or not English; a mention of a "Guy Philby" threw me, is that a Cambridge Four/Five reference? -- but I'm mostly curious to see if any of those quibbles get taken up in the following books.
Except we don't. Because this isn't our England of the 1940's. Walton gradually opens our eyes to the fact that this is an England in which Hitler was not defeated, this is an England that ended the Battle of Britain by reaching an accommodation with the Third Reich, and this is an England that is slowly, reluctantly, but none the less it seems inevitably, following Continental Europe into fascism. In the process, at least for me, she pulls of the neat trick of making me see something I've known for a very long time with new eyes.
Because I thoroughly enjoy those golden age detective stories. I have great fondness for them despite the very obvious evidences that they were written in a time and place where classism and racism and anti semitism and other forms of bigotry were less challenged and closer to acceptable than they are now. I've had disputes with GR friends about this, when they can't get past it and I can.
What this book helped me to understand, beautifully, subtly without banging me over the head with it it - is that I forgive that stuff because I know what happened next. I know that England came to its "two roads that met in a wood" and took the other path. But of course OF COURSE, nobody in the 1940's knew that was going to happen. At the time that those books I enjoy so much were written those questions were not decided, not by a long shot. During the war and even after it, there were many opportunities, manyt roads not taken that could have lead to a much darker place.
The alternate history Walton puts before us is not in the least unlikely, in fact there's a certain terrifying "for want of a horseshoe nail," quality to just how very plausible it is. And so this alternate history pulls off the wonderful trick of making me remember the real history of that time and place without the comfortable insulating qualities of hindsight. It makes me connect emotionally to something I knew only intellectually, how desperate and how close fought the ideological war was in those decades, and how much courage against all odds was needed by those who prevented this imagined future from being the one we inherited.
Moreover she does this, she evokes these large matters and sets them before us, while staying entirely within the tradition of the form she has chosen, that of the country house mystery. She doesn't give us the sweep of troops across Europe and the skies filled with fighter planes. Instead, like Josephine Tey, she shows us great moral battles being fought at the dining table, or on a walk in the home wood. In the betrayals between parents and children, in contempt arising between husbands and wives, in the failures of courage or the temptations of ambition that are first and most clearly seen in the private interactions of people who know one another well.
So even though she uses the traditions of the golden age detective story to tell quite a different tale, she does so with a respect for the form. She understands that at their best those novels were capable of a kind of subtle insight that could show you great matters in small and she uses the form to do precisely what it does best. Oh how I love this book.
The cover strapline makes comparisons with Robert Harris's Fatherland and Philip Roth's The Plot Against America; the latter I haven't read, though I own a copy and must dig it out soon. The comparison with the former seems invalid, though. Harris's cop hero has acclimatized to operating under Nazi occupation, and, even as he resents it, is largely in acceptance of it. Lucy/David and Carmichael, however, are drawn progressively closer to the abyss, and know they are being drawn; they are given the stark choice of fleeing from its edge or acquiescing to the long, slowly accelerating fall.
As an aside, I was amused by one thing: After reading for several chapters, I thought, Lucy is really more of a Bunny than a Lucy, to be in the spirit of country house cozies. About four pages later Lucy revealed that her father's pet name for her was . . . Bunny.
This is a top-notch book that -- at the same time as being as compulsive a page-turner as you're likely to come across all year -- forces ethical considerations onto the page, so that the reader, like the tale's heroes, doesn't have the option of simply avoiding them but must engage with them, one way or the other.
The writing style reminded me of Agatha Christie (but not as well done) and Dorothy Sayers (again, not quite as well done). I would have preferred a narrative told from either first person or third person, but not both alternating.