Status
Available
Call number
Series
Collection
Publication
St Martins Pr 2013
Description
Fantasy. Fiction. HTML: In 1941 the European war ended in the Farthing Peace, a rapprochement between Britain and Nazi Germany. The balls and banquets of Britain's upper class never faltered, while British ships ferried "undesirables" across the Channel to board the cattle cars headed east. Peter Carmichael is commander of the Watch, Britain's distinctly British secret police. It's his job to warn the Prime Minister of treason, to arrest plotters, and to discover Jews. The midnight knock of a Watchman is the most dreaded sound in the realm. Now, in 1960, a global peace conference is convening in London, where Britain, Germany, and Japan will oversee the final partition of the world. Hitler is once again on British soil. So is the long exiled Duke of Windsor�??and the rising gangs of "British Power" streetfighters, who consider the Government "soft," may be the former king's bid to stage a coup d'état. Amidst all this, two of the most unlikely persons in the realm will join forces to oppose the fascists: a debutante whose greatest worry until now has been where to find the right string of pearls, and the Watch Commander himself.… (more)
User reviews
LibraryThing member JeremyPreacher
Half a Crown takes everything in the previous two books to its logical conclusion (And I do mean everything - there are no plot threads left hanging that I noticed, including the fate of fairly minor characters. This sounds tedious or over-precious, but was deftly done.) It also answers the only
It's so tightly tied with its predecessors that I don't want to talk about it in any particular detail, except to say that it's rather grim. Still highly recommend the series, though - but read it in order!
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question I had bugging me, if in trifle deus-ex-machina-esque fashion.It's so tightly tied with its predecessors that I don't want to talk about it in any particular detail, except to say that it's rather grim. Still highly recommend the series, though - but read it in order!
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LibraryThing member AlanPoulter
This is the concluding volume in the Small Change triology, and this, to a large extent, is its undoing. It is set in the 1960s in an alternate reality in which Britain made peace with Nazi Germany via Rudolf Hess, and Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan went on take over most of the world, after
The Watch, a new official undercover security agency is responsible for rounding up Jews in the UK and sending them to camps in Germany, or to new ones being built in Britain. Inspector Carmichael, a rising police detctive in the previous two novels, is Head of the Watch, but has secrets. He is connected with the underground smugling Jews out. Also he is gay. His niece is in London for her coming out ball, but gets arrested by mistake at a demo and this starts the plot moving.
But it goes nowhere. The problem is that this scenario cannot be unmade - a deus ex machina is wheeled out but is entirely unconvincing. It is hard imagine what would work...This is a shame as the author certainly has the social mores of the pre-decimal era UK down pat. I remember the wealth I felt I had when I had saved up 10 shillings!
PS why did the paperback version in the UK come out eight years after the hardback?
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nuking Moscow and Miami. Jews are fleeing Europe to Canada or Africa. The Watch, a new official undercover security agency is responsible for rounding up Jews in the UK and sending them to camps in Germany, or to new ones being built in Britain. Inspector Carmichael, a rising police detctive in the previous two novels, is Head of the Watch, but has secrets. He is connected with the underground smugling Jews out. Also he is gay. His niece is in London for her coming out ball, but gets arrested by mistake at a demo and this starts the plot moving.
But it goes nowhere. The problem is that this scenario cannot be unmade - a deus ex machina is wheeled out but is entirely unconvincing. It is hard imagine what would work...This is a shame as the author certainly has the social mores of the pre-decimal era UK down pat. I remember the wealth I felt I had when I had saved up 10 shillings!
PS why did the paperback version in the UK come out eight years after the hardback?
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LibraryThing member bunwat
This is the last in the Small Change trilogy about an alternate Britain in which fascism was not defeated in WWII. I found this conclusion of the series deeply satisfying. Like the other two books this reads for me as a mystery and thriller in which the excitement and tension come from the working
Much of the tension in this one - and it gets nail biting at times - rises out of watching Inspector Carmichael's ward Elvira approach her coming of age in a Britain that has now been a fascist state for many years. Unlike the characters in the previous novels she has never known a world in which Jews and Communists didn't belong in work camps, in which she wasn't taught, in school and by her peers, that it is her duty to denounce anyone who opposes the state or even criticizes it too vehemently.
Elvira is a debutante and an aspiring scholar about to be presented at the Queen’s drawing room before going away to study at Oxford. She goes for fittings for her court dress, she envies her best friend just a bit for having nicer jewelry than she does, but supports her when she is too shy at parties. She flirts with an eligible man who takes her to a parade where the “family fun” includes floats, cotton candy, and jew taunting.
It’s a brilliant and chilling mixture – Jo Walton gives you an ordinary girl worrying about her hair and then just as you are relaxing into that familiar trope, she opens up the focus a little bit and shows you the nightmare that this girl routinely accepts as just the way things are. Its like walking down to the old corner shop for milk and having the ground drop out from under you. And then, oh then this Elvira who has been taught all her life to denounce the unsound and the disloyal, begins to suspect and understand that her “Uncle” Carmichael is not perhaps the pillar of fascist society that she has grown up thinking he was.
Just as she is observing the coming of age rituals of her society Elvira is also approaching emotional and intellectual adulthood, beginning to look at some of the hard realities that underlie the nursery school explanations and truisms that have satisfied her until now, and to question whether the rules she grew up with are the rules she wants to live by. But this is a society where that kind of questioning gets people killed. If she decides to follow the rules, she’s probably going to get her Uncle killed, and if she decides not to follow them she’s probably going to get herself killed. So now we got us a nail biter!
If Walton had done no more that this, if having walked us step by frightening step right up into the arms of this psychological dilemma, she had let either of those two possibilities play out, this would have been a really good book. A four star for sure. But instead she suddenly takes a sharp right turn and goes to a new place. And although I stumbled a bit when she confounded my expectations, in the end I had to laugh and shake my head and fall in love with it. Some reviewers have said the ending didn’t work for them, but for me it’s what elevated the book to five stars.
At first it didn’t make sense to me but the longer I thought about it the more I realized that it did, oh how it did. I said that the first book made me see history without the insulation of hindsight, and here, dang it if she didn’t turn right around and do it to me again!
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out of character and moral choices rather than in fast paced action or clever use of weapons and technology.Much of the tension in this one - and it gets nail biting at times - rises out of watching Inspector Carmichael's ward Elvira approach her coming of age in a Britain that has now been a fascist state for many years. Unlike the characters in the previous novels she has never known a world in which Jews and Communists didn't belong in work camps, in which she wasn't taught, in school and by her peers, that it is her duty to denounce anyone who opposes the state or even criticizes it too vehemently.
Elvira is a debutante and an aspiring scholar about to be presented at the Queen’s drawing room before going away to study at Oxford. She goes for fittings for her court dress, she envies her best friend just a bit for having nicer jewelry than she does, but supports her when she is too shy at parties. She flirts with an eligible man who takes her to a parade where the “family fun” includes floats, cotton candy, and jew taunting.
It’s a brilliant and chilling mixture – Jo Walton gives you an ordinary girl worrying about her hair and then just as you are relaxing into that familiar trope, she opens up the focus a little bit and shows you the nightmare that this girl routinely accepts as just the way things are. Its like walking down to the old corner shop for milk and having the ground drop out from under you. And then, oh then this Elvira who has been taught all her life to denounce the unsound and the disloyal, begins to suspect and understand that her “Uncle” Carmichael is not perhaps the pillar of fascist society that she has grown up thinking he was.
Just as she is observing the coming of age rituals of her society Elvira is also approaching emotional and intellectual adulthood, beginning to look at some of the hard realities that underlie the nursery school explanations and truisms that have satisfied her until now, and to question whether the rules she grew up with are the rules she wants to live by. But this is a society where that kind of questioning gets people killed. If she decides to follow the rules, she’s probably going to get her Uncle killed, and if she decides not to follow them she’s probably going to get herself killed. So now we got us a nail biter!
If Walton had done no more that this, if having walked us step by frightening step right up into the arms of this psychological dilemma, she had let either of those two possibilities play out, this would have been a really good book. A four star for sure. But instead she suddenly takes a sharp right turn and goes to a new place. And although I stumbled a bit when she confounded my expectations, in the end I had to laugh and shake my head and fall in love with it. Some reviewers have said the ending didn’t work for them, but for me it’s what elevated the book to five stars.
At first it didn’t make sense to me but the longer I thought about it the more I realized that it did, oh how it did. I said that the first book made me see history without the insulation of hindsight, and here, dang it if she didn’t turn right around and do it to me again!
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LibraryThing member Stewartry
It's 1960, and fascism has settled comfortably over England – and much of the world, apparently – like a pea–souper. And – being a completist at times – I listened to this third book despite not being thrilled with the second one. Looking at my notes, I see a lot of capital letters. Not
Oh, this is not a good narration … Terry Donnelly gives a very deliberate, measured, extraordinarily prissy performance for the Elvira portions of the book. I was so hoping there would be a brush of the Cockney now and then, but instead she sounds a very young teenager trying to be Maggie Smith. It's excruciating. (I've listened to samples of other books she's read – and they're fine. Lots of Irish–accented books, a couple of American, a couple of English, all listen–to–able. This…) The upper class is painful – the lower class is … *shudder* I also made note of one part in which someone is supposed to be shouting "Police!", which ought to have been an urgent, probably harsh call, as it was some members of a rioting crowd warning others. Instead, it was a languid, drawled sort of a word, more like Bertie Wooster hailing a cab, and in fact not deserving of the exclamation point. Nearly all audiobooks have moments where the narrator's intonation does not match the tone of the narrative – things like "Is he ever!" being read as "Is he ever?" But there seem to be more in this book, and some that were less understandable and … just odd. "Ogilvie realized this too", which should have had "Ogilvie" emphasized, came out as "Ogilvie realized this too".
Those Elvira portions of the book were altogether unpleasant. Even aside from the narration, I hated the character so much that she is largely responsible for my hatred of the book. Her mother left when she was six, and her father died when she was eight. Know how I know? BECAUSE I WAS TOLD SO, SEVERAL TIMES. In fact, if I wasn't told so in every Elvira chapter for the first two hours, it certainly felt like it. So that was exasperating. Then there was the simple fact that the girl herself was a nasty, ungrateful little wretch, and apparently completely self-centered. Her attitude toward Carmichael (and Jack), who took her in out of the goodness of his heart (and guilt) after her father was shot, was appalling. The fact that even though she lived with them in a less-than-palatial flat she had no idea the two of them were lovers was, I feel, more due to her egocentricity than the façade of clandestineness on the men's part. "Could they have any lives outside this room, the only place he ever saw them?" It was kind of hilarious when someone asked her, "You haven't observed anything that made you suspicious?" No, she hasn't, because she's an idiot eighteen-year-old girl. The Cinderella nonsense surrounding her wore thin very fast; at one point she complains about having to wear a polyester dress, in circumstances that rendered the whining offensively silly. Oh, good, I took down one quote regarding a coat, given her to cover the paper prison dress: "It was much too big in the shoulders, of course, and I'd never normally wear a beige coat, but the height was just right to be fashionable." My God.
The treatment she receives at the hands of the authorities loses any power to trouble me, because it simply isn't realistic that even a militant fascist state would suspect this bubbleheaded irritant of a girl of terrorism.
Carmichael was all right, I suppose; at least, I don't have any notes expressing hatred for him. Except for one note after he forgot to ask her about something vital ("Whatever else it was [Elvira] might have known, which he'd forgotten to ask her about" – OH MY GOD YOU MORON). But his lover/valet Jack was a paradox. Far be it from me to disbelief an autodidact – but I did. He came off as not very bright, but there were carefully added details about his extensive studies or whatever that made little sense. And he was used in one of the tropes which annoys me the most: I'm always disgusted by fictional spouses of cops (and doctors and other professionals who have wildly erratic hours) who become petulant over those erratic hours. Look – for the most part you knew what you were getting into; it's not the spouse's fault; shut up. In real life I'm sure it's extraordinarily difficult, and I sympathize. In fiction, it's intensely boring.
The alternate universe – in which AXIS won WWII – was not badly done; there's talk of airships instead of airplanes, and "Britain and Japan should divide America between them" (Oy. You try it, mate.) However, shouldn't Edward VIII have been a little higher up or something, cozy as he and Mrs. Simpson were with the Reich? And, as with the preceding books, there simply wasn't enough attention given to the differences between this world and that. It would at least have been a distraction from despising Elvira if I'd been kept off-kilter by the alien reality of a fascist, Hitler-led England. (My fingers ache just typing that.)
However.
Attention all British authors, past, present, and future, who try their hand at American characters: We do NOT all sound like Foghorn bleeding Leghorn. (I'm looking at you too, Conan Doyle.) We do NOT say "mighty" in every other sentence, and it's astonishingly irritating – and offensive – in a character whose American accent and dialect was formed at Princeton. Which is in New Jersey. Which is not a place you would hear "The countryside is mighty pretty…and London sure is entertaining." I was born and raised in Connecticut. I have never in my life heard anyone who was not pretending to be a cowboy say "mighty". And then there was "In his American accent". So… in almost 94 thousand square miles, the UK has more accents than I can count, but in America's THREE POINT EIGHT MILLION square miles we supposedly have … one? Get a clue. Now.
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good. In fact, I hated this book with a passion that still simmers a little. Oh, this is not a good narration … Terry Donnelly gives a very deliberate, measured, extraordinarily prissy performance for the Elvira portions of the book. I was so hoping there would be a brush of the Cockney now and then, but instead she sounds a very young teenager trying to be Maggie Smith. It's excruciating. (I've listened to samples of other books she's read – and they're fine. Lots of Irish–accented books, a couple of American, a couple of English, all listen–to–able. This…) The upper class is painful – the lower class is … *shudder* I also made note of one part in which someone is supposed to be shouting "Police!", which ought to have been an urgent, probably harsh call, as it was some members of a rioting crowd warning others. Instead, it was a languid, drawled sort of a word, more like Bertie Wooster hailing a cab, and in fact not deserving of the exclamation point. Nearly all audiobooks have moments where the narrator's intonation does not match the tone of the narrative – things like "Is he ever!" being read as "Is he ever?" But there seem to be more in this book, and some that were less understandable and … just odd. "Ogilvie realized this too", which should have had "Ogilvie" emphasized, came out as "Ogilvie realized this too".
Those Elvira portions of the book were altogether unpleasant. Even aside from the narration, I hated the character so much that she is largely responsible for my hatred of the book. Her mother left when she was six, and her father died when she was eight. Know how I know? BECAUSE I WAS TOLD SO, SEVERAL TIMES. In fact, if I wasn't told so in every Elvira chapter for the first two hours, it certainly felt like it. So that was exasperating. Then there was the simple fact that the girl herself was a nasty, ungrateful little wretch, and apparently completely self-centered. Her attitude toward Carmichael (and Jack), who took her in out of the goodness of his heart (and guilt) after her father was shot, was appalling. The fact that even though she lived with them in a less-than-palatial flat she had no idea the two of them were lovers was, I feel, more due to her egocentricity than the façade of clandestineness on the men's part. "Could they have any lives outside this room, the only place he ever saw them?" It was kind of hilarious when someone asked her, "You haven't observed anything that made you suspicious?" No, she hasn't, because she's an idiot eighteen-year-old girl. The Cinderella nonsense surrounding her wore thin very fast; at one point she complains about having to wear a polyester dress, in circumstances that rendered the whining offensively silly. Oh, good, I took down one quote regarding a coat, given her to cover the paper prison dress: "It was much too big in the shoulders, of course, and I'd never normally wear a beige coat, but the height was just right to be fashionable." My God.
The treatment she receives at the hands of the authorities loses any power to trouble me, because it simply isn't realistic that even a militant fascist state would suspect this bubbleheaded irritant of a girl of terrorism.
Carmichael was all right, I suppose; at least, I don't have any notes expressing hatred for him. Except for one note after he forgot to ask her about something vital ("Whatever else it was [Elvira] might have known, which he'd forgotten to ask her about" – OH MY GOD YOU MORON). But his lover/valet Jack was a paradox. Far be it from me to disbelief an autodidact – but I did. He came off as not very bright, but there were carefully added details about his extensive studies or whatever that made little sense. And he was used in one of the tropes which annoys me the most: I'm always disgusted by fictional spouses of cops (and doctors and other professionals who have wildly erratic hours) who become petulant over those erratic hours. Look – for the most part you knew what you were getting into; it's not the spouse's fault; shut up. In real life I'm sure it's extraordinarily difficult, and I sympathize. In fiction, it's intensely boring.
The alternate universe – in which AXIS won WWII – was not badly done; there's talk of airships instead of airplanes, and "Britain and Japan should divide America between them" (Oy. You try it, mate.) However, shouldn't Edward VIII have been a little higher up or something, cozy as he and Mrs. Simpson were with the Reich? And, as with the preceding books, there simply wasn't enough attention given to the differences between this world and that. It would at least have been a distraction from despising Elvira if I'd been kept off-kilter by the alien reality of a fascist, Hitler-led England. (My fingers ache just typing that.)
However.
Attention all British authors, past, present, and future, who try their hand at American characters: We do NOT all sound like Foghorn bleeding Leghorn. (I'm looking at you too, Conan Doyle.) We do NOT say "mighty" in every other sentence, and it's astonishingly irritating – and offensive – in a character whose American accent and dialect was formed at Princeton. Which is in New Jersey. Which is not a place you would hear "The countryside is mighty pretty…and London sure is entertaining." I was born and raised in Connecticut. I have never in my life heard anyone who was not pretending to be a cowboy say "mighty". And then there was "In his American accent". So… in almost 94 thousand square miles, the UK has more accents than I can count, but in America's THREE POINT EIGHT MILLION square miles we supposedly have … one? Get a clue. Now.
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LibraryThing member ladycato
I sped through this book in about a day. It's horrifically tense. It's a 1960 Britain with a full Gestapo of its own called the Watch, its own concentration camp about to open, and an entire world in ruins. Russia and Germany's prolonged war has ended with Russia a nuclear wasteland. The United
I loved this book up until the ending. It just felt too fast and easy. I don't mind an optimistic end for the trilogy, but this just comes out of nowhere. It wasn't believable.
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States lost to Japan decades before--though not a lot of details are provided--and Japan and Britain are wondering if they should divide that continent as well. The head of the Watch, Carmichael, has not entirely lost his soul. He still works to smuggle Jews out of the country, even as he designs torture techniques and governs a massive spy network. His teenage ward, Elvira, has been raised within fascism but doesn't think to question it until she's an innocent bystander in a riot who is arrested and embroiled in a power struggle against her adoptive uncle.I loved this book up until the ending. It just felt too fast and easy. I don't mind an optimistic end for the trilogy, but this just comes out of nowhere. It wasn't believable.
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LibraryThing member john257hopper
This review contains spoilers.
This is the final novel in the author's Small Change trilogy set in an alternative post-Second World War historical setting where Britain made peace with Hitler after the Blitz and an authoritarian right wing government leads the country, cracking down on dissent, and
This is the final novel in the author's Small Change trilogy set in an alternative post-Second World War historical setting where Britain made peace with Hitler after the Blitz and an authoritarian right wing government leads the country, cracking down on dissent, and
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sending Jews to the continent. It is now 1960. The central character is again Peter Carmichael, who is head of the Watch, a form of secret police, but in reality is using his position to smuggle Jews out of the country to relative safety in Ireland, or greater safety in Canada or Australia. Much of the novel concerns the doings of Carmichael's ward, Elvira Royston, who gets innocently caught up in various political machinations, but then at the end provides the key to what I thought was a rather implausible and sudden denouement to the novel in which the regime is finally overthrown after she reveals crucial information to the Queen. This aside, the author describes very well the atmosphere of petty tyranny that various "mini-Hitlers" perpetrate in the rather grey post-war of the country. Show Less
LibraryThing member RubyScarlett
The entire trilogy is amazing, but this book delves deeper into the problem than ever before and is a great, if horrific, installment. First, let me say that I was pleasantly surprised to see so many old characters mentioned and even returning in this book - it's extremely rewarding to the reader
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to acknowledge there's been a story before, however long ago. I thought the main female character, even though she's a new point of view in the story, was the most interesting in the trilogy (Viola was easily the worst) insofar as she's grown up with fascism as the norm and despite being a debutante, is far more interested in her future Oxford studies and career - how wonderful to hear her reject a proposal of marriage instantly for the sole reason that she wants to earn her own income. There would be a lot to say about the Small Change trilogy in general and Half a Crown in particular, for example the author's beautiful description of grief towards the end, or the author's portrayal of homosexuality. The very conclusion is extremely abrupt and I was kept awake thinking about whether or not it made sense - it's a letdown in the sense that it's very much up to the reader to imagine the consequences of what happens in the very last few pages but if you think of Small Change as books which are at their core entirely about the effect of War on specific people, then the story's indeed over and whatever epilogue there could have been explaining how Britain and the rest of the world carried on afterwards is very much extraneous. I believe, however, that the world Jo Walton created ended up being as interesting as its characters and I wouldn't be surprised to see her publish a short story or even a novella set in this world in the future - this series is very haunting and really lingers on the mind. I won't miss the world, of course, but I'll really miss the characters dearly, especially Carmichael. Show Less
LibraryThing member sageness
So far in this series, I've seen a grand total of 2 disabled characters have lines, despite it being set immediately post-war. The amputee was the Nazi Viola blew up at the end of the 2nd book. The other is the villain, Normanby, who survived being blown up in the same explosion. At the beginning
My review of book one praised the wide range of characters' sexuality, so that there was no stereotypical portrayal of "the queer one as fundamentally evil". Not so with disabled characters, despite the realistic expectation that a setting full of war veterans should be full of variously disabled people. If it were, then this wouldn't bug me because some disabled people are in fact misanthropic shits. But most of them aren't, and they need to be shown as much as non-evil queer people need to be shown.
(I am so sick of reading mysteries and finding that the person who did it (or conspired to have the crime committed) is the one who walks with a cane or uses a wheelchair or has a prosthetic leg, etc. It's obscene. How many children will tell you that Captain Hook goes after Peter Pan because he doesn't have a hand, instead of maybe because he's a pirate and sociopath? This is as ridiculous as all queer people supposedly being sexual predators. Fucking Victorian faulty logic. This shit needs to be deprogrammed ASAP.)
Anyway, that wasn't quite the point I turned off the ebook. I went several pages more to see if the girl protagonist would charm me enough to keep going. But she didn't, and the plot of her moral enlightenment into (presumably) something approaching a human being -- despite her adoptive parents being people I would expect a much better kid out of -- was just not something I wanted to read. I mean, thank god snotty teenagers grow up ("Fascism is fun!" o.O Really?), but I'd much rather read a traditional detective novel. Also, any book about the commander of the Watch shouldn't make me actively wish I were reading a Terry Pratchett novel instead.
I never skip to the end to find out how things resolve, but this time I think I'm going to. And then maybe I'll reread some Discworld as a palate cleanser.
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of the 3rd book, a faction of antifascist protesters call Normanby a cripple, to which he responds by ordering them sent to Nazi-run concentration camps.My review of book one praised the wide range of characters' sexuality, so that there was no stereotypical portrayal of "the queer one as fundamentally evil". Not so with disabled characters, despite the realistic expectation that a setting full of war veterans should be full of variously disabled people. If it were, then this wouldn't bug me because some disabled people are in fact misanthropic shits. But most of them aren't, and they need to be shown as much as non-evil queer people need to be shown.
(I am so sick of reading mysteries and finding that the person who did it (or conspired to have the crime committed) is the one who walks with a cane or uses a wheelchair or has a prosthetic leg, etc. It's obscene. How many children will tell you that Captain Hook goes after Peter Pan because he doesn't have a hand, instead of maybe because he's a pirate and sociopath? This is as ridiculous as all queer people supposedly being sexual predators. Fucking Victorian faulty logic. This shit needs to be deprogrammed ASAP.)
Anyway, that wasn't quite the point I turned off the ebook. I went several pages more to see if the girl protagonist would charm me enough to keep going. But she didn't, and the plot of her moral enlightenment into (presumably) something approaching a human being -- despite her adoptive parents being people I would expect a much better kid out of -- was just not something I wanted to read. I mean, thank god snotty teenagers grow up ("Fascism is fun!" o.O Really?), but I'd much rather read a traditional detective novel. Also, any book about the commander of the Watch shouldn't make me actively wish I were reading a Terry Pratchett novel instead.
I never skip to the end to find out how things resolve, but this time I think I'm going to. And then maybe I'll reread some Discworld as a palate cleanser.
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LibraryThing member Figgles
Final book in the "Small Change" trilogy and I only read it to complete the circle. Set in 1960 in the alternative future Britain after WWII ended with the Hess Peace of 1941. Alas the characters have not grown or developed over the three books and the ending is frankly ridiculous. Only read this
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if you want to see how it ends. Show Less
LibraryThing member jjmcgaffey
Somewhat less grim and depressing than the earlier books in the series. It starts out reading like a very odd Regency romance - two girls, focusing on their dresses and accessories and being presented to the Queen - and oh yes, the interesting political diversion of fascism. In 1960, by the way.
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It's a strange world Jo Walton has created - and one reason why I react so badly to it is that it's very realistic. These things could happen, given the events and personalities presented - and it's a serious dystopia. In the middle of the book, we get more of what the first two books had - political manipulations, personal danger at several levels, small hopes, large risks, and untrustworthy allies. Absolutely everything goes wrong, disaster piled on disaster - I like it (well, I find it very rich - I don't _like_ it) when Elvira, presented with Carmichael's various schemes and secrets, does not immediately become a (trustworthy!) ally; she's squicked out by personal matters and rather disapproving of more general ones, but still willing to protect Carmichael up to a point. Again, very realistic. And then, precisely because she's not fully supportive of his schemes, she goes around what any logical person would do - and it actually works. The book ends on a very hopeful note; a lot of the foul events and policies we've seen grow up over the trilogy are ruthlessly exposed and hacked down. We don't get to see any endings, only a hopeful new beginning - and that's the way it should be left, the details would be too much. I don't _like_ the trilogy, but I'm very glad I read it. I doubt I'll ever reread, or forget this story. Show Less
LibraryThing member Meredy
Six-word review: Pulse-thumper roundly wraps thriller trilogy.
Extended review:
Jo Walton's "Small Change" trilogy (nice title, that) comes to a rousing, seat-edging conclusion with Half a Crown. This alternate history, in which a brokered peace with Hitler has led to a fascist government in Britain,
Now commander of the Gestapo-like Watch, Carmichael has been covertly using his position to rescue victims of political injustice. As the stakes rise, he finds himself in an impossible conflict of personal priorities engineered by his highly placed adversaries.
Meanwhile, his ward Elvira, about to make her society debut by presentation to the young Queen Elizabeth, becomes unwittingly entangled in a political web that threatens the entire nation.
Once again I found the alternation between first-person and third-person narratives somewhat distracting, even though I could see sound reasons for it from a writer's point of view. But I was expecting it and it didn't really throw me off. Much more disconcerting is the author's habitual misconstruction of subjunctive verbs with the past perfect:
"I'd have loved to have talked to her about it" (page 160);
"Normanby would have preferred to have had everyone loathe and fear him" (page 208);
"I'd almost stopped being hungry and would have liked to have gone straight to bed" (page 259);
"I would have liked to have washed it" (page 275).
I'll spare you the rest of my examples. They're all the same, and they do run through all three novels.
Nonetheless, I was very much caught up in the story, thanks to the author's sound plotting, appealing focal characters, and imaginative treatment of historical possibility. The pervasive theme--using whatever advantages you have to make a positive difference--plays out marvelously with the intervention of an unlikely and unexpected heroine. I spent the second half of the book pretty much parked on the sofa reading and not doing much of anything else.
The exciting finish garnered the series-ender an extra half star. I was also pleased that she answered some questions left hanging in earlier installments. I'll be back for more Jo Walton.
I just wish that she or her editor would read up on verb tenses with subjunctive.
Extended review:
Jo Walton's "Small Change" trilogy (nice title, that) comes to a rousing, seat-edging conclusion with Half a Crown. This alternate history, in which a brokered peace with Hitler has led to a fascist government in Britain,
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jumps ahead to 1960 and follows the former Inspector Carmichael through to a seemingly inevitable conclusion that nonetheless grips and surprises.Now commander of the Gestapo-like Watch, Carmichael has been covertly using his position to rescue victims of political injustice. As the stakes rise, he finds himself in an impossible conflict of personal priorities engineered by his highly placed adversaries.
Meanwhile, his ward Elvira, about to make her society debut by presentation to the young Queen Elizabeth, becomes unwittingly entangled in a political web that threatens the entire nation.
Once again I found the alternation between first-person and third-person narratives somewhat distracting, even though I could see sound reasons for it from a writer's point of view. But I was expecting it and it didn't really throw me off. Much more disconcerting is the author's habitual misconstruction of subjunctive verbs with the past perfect:
"I'd have loved to have talked to her about it" (page 160);
"Normanby would have preferred to have had everyone loathe and fear him" (page 208);
"I'd almost stopped being hungry and would have liked to have gone straight to bed" (page 259);
"I would have liked to have washed it" (page 275).
I'll spare you the rest of my examples. They're all the same, and they do run through all three novels.
Nonetheless, I was very much caught up in the story, thanks to the author's sound plotting, appealing focal characters, and imaginative treatment of historical possibility. The pervasive theme--using whatever advantages you have to make a positive difference--plays out marvelously with the intervention of an unlikely and unexpected heroine. I spent the second half of the book pretty much parked on the sofa reading and not doing much of anything else.
The exciting finish garnered the series-ender an extra half star. I was also pleased that she answered some questions left hanging in earlier installments. I'll be back for more Jo Walton.
I just wish that she or her editor would read up on verb tenses with subjunctive.
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LibraryThing member sturlington
In many ways, this last installment is very different from the previous two books in the series. Like the previous two books, the narration alternates between first person from the point of view of a young woman who is also a central character and third person from the point of view of the main
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continuing character, Peter Carmichael. The plot is not primarily concerned with solving a crime; rather, the style is more like a political thriller. It is also much darker in tone. Set ten years after the last book, Great Britain has fully descended into fascism. Carmichael is now head of the Watch, a Gestapo-like organization, which is deporting Jews and other undesirables to concentration camps in continental Europe. What is most chilling is how the first-person narrator -- Carmichael's ward, Elvira Royston -- at first naively accepts the repressive regime she lives under, until she is caught up in the net herself and falsely accused of sedition. In many ways, I liked this installment best of the three, because of its darker tone, and the stakes seemed much higher. Like the other books, it was a fast-paced read, but it also seemed more exciting and suspenseful. However, for me the end came too abruptly and felt somewhat like a cheat. On the whole, I'm glad I discovered this unusual series of books, which are a welcome addition to the alternate history sub-genre. Show Less
LibraryThing member Larou
Half a Crown is the final instalment of Jo Walton’s Small Change trilogy which is set in alternative history Great Britain in which England arranged itself with the Nazis, which led to Germany winning the Second World War and Britain starting a slow slide into fascism.
In 1960, when the novel is
As in the previous novels, Carmichael constitutes one point of view for Half a Crown, while the other, also as before, is provided by a young female first person narrator, this time Carmichael’s ward Elvira, a young debutante about to be presented to the Queen.
I liked both Farthing and Ha’penny a lot, Half a Crown… not quite as much; in fact it is the first novel by Jo Walton that I read which left me somewhat disappointed. This is mainly due to two reason: For one, Half a Crown completely jettisons the Cozy Mystery element of the other installments. One could argue that after eight years of fascism there is not much left in the way of Cozy, but the same could be said about Farthing, and Jo Walton did a brilliant job de-cozifying the Cozy Mystery in that novel. I think Half a Crown loses quite a bit of what made this trilogy special by becoming a “straight” alternate history novel – but that might just be a matter of personal preference.
And then, the alternate history of Half a Crown is not completely straightforward – but it is precisely here where the second, and I think much graver, problem lies. From the beginning of Farthing to almost the ending of Half a Crown, the Small Change trilogy has been a very bleak affair, with its main characters seeing things go ineluctably from bad to worse and, despite all of their attempts to stem themselves against the tide of evil, being swept away by it. Then, about twenty pages before the end of Half a Crown, Jo Walton plops a deus-ex-machina, fairy tale ending in front of readers and expects them to believe that everything is rosy again and the future full of hope.
Admittedly this ending was not a total surprise – right at the start, Walton hits readers over the head with the Cinderella motif and then keeps repeating it throughout the novel, to the point where I was wondering if maybe the novel was meant to be a regular mash-up between alternate history and fairy tale (like the previous had been between alternate history and cozy mystery). While it probably was, I do not think it was as successful – the fairy tale godmother waving her sparkly wand and making everything okay again just grated with everything that had gone before, and I did not think it was very plausible either. I was reminded of those American films where the day is saved if the hero only manages to tell some newspaper or TV station about the bad things going on, because of course everything will right itself if only people know what’s going on, except that, this being British, we get the Queen instead of the Press. I won’t say that the ending ruined the trilogy for me – for the simple reason that it did not, the first two novels are still excellent,and even this third is a good read – but it was a bit of a letdown.
In 1960, when the novel is
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set, it has almost arrived there, with the opening of the first concentration camp on British soil being imminent. Russia has been destroyed by nuclear bombs, the USA have declined into insignificance and Germany, Japan and Britain are about to meet for a peace conference in London to give the new world order a lasting shape. Peter Carmichael, still holding his post as Commander of the Watch (the British version of the Gestapo) he was blackmailed into taking in Ha’penny, has been tasked with supervising security for the conference and also has to deal with an attempted coup by the Duke of Windsor which, if it was to succeed, would make things even worse than they are now.As in the previous novels, Carmichael constitutes one point of view for Half a Crown, while the other, also as before, is provided by a young female first person narrator, this time Carmichael’s ward Elvira, a young debutante about to be presented to the Queen.
I liked both Farthing and Ha’penny a lot, Half a Crown… not quite as much; in fact it is the first novel by Jo Walton that I read which left me somewhat disappointed. This is mainly due to two reason: For one, Half a Crown completely jettisons the Cozy Mystery element of the other installments. One could argue that after eight years of fascism there is not much left in the way of Cozy, but the same could be said about Farthing, and Jo Walton did a brilliant job de-cozifying the Cozy Mystery in that novel. I think Half a Crown loses quite a bit of what made this trilogy special by becoming a “straight” alternate history novel – but that might just be a matter of personal preference.
And then, the alternate history of Half a Crown is not completely straightforward – but it is precisely here where the second, and I think much graver, problem lies. From the beginning of Farthing to almost the ending of Half a Crown, the Small Change trilogy has been a very bleak affair, with its main characters seeing things go ineluctably from bad to worse and, despite all of their attempts to stem themselves against the tide of evil, being swept away by it. Then, about twenty pages before the end of Half a Crown, Jo Walton plops a deus-ex-machina, fairy tale ending in front of readers and expects them to believe that everything is rosy again and the future full of hope.
Admittedly this ending was not a total surprise – right at the start, Walton hits readers over the head with the Cinderella motif and then keeps repeating it throughout the novel, to the point where I was wondering if maybe the novel was meant to be a regular mash-up between alternate history and fairy tale (like the previous had been between alternate history and cozy mystery). While it probably was, I do not think it was as successful – the fairy tale godmother waving her sparkly wand and making everything okay again just grated with everything that had gone before, and I did not think it was very plausible either. I was reminded of those American films where the day is saved if the hero only manages to tell some newspaper or TV station about the bad things going on, because of course everything will right itself if only people know what’s going on, except that, this being British, we get the Queen instead of the Press. I won’t say that the ending ruined the trilogy for me – for the simple reason that it did not, the first two novels are still excellent,and even this third is a good read – but it was a bit of a letdown.
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LibraryThing member wealhtheowwylfing
In 1941, a small subgroup of the English government negotiated peace with Hitler. Now it's the 1960s. Japan has dropped atomic bombs on the Soviet Union, the US is isolationalist and utterly unconnected to world affairs, and the UK has been shipping undesirables overseas to German concentration
Carmichal was a mere Inspector from Scotland Yard in the first book of this trilogy, but he has progressed to head of the Watch (the British secret police, focused particularly on Jews and political dissidents). A thoughtful man of principles and deep loyalties, he has nevertheless made a series of compromises and betrayals over the years. While outwardly he is the most threatening man in Britain, in private he is focused on three things: keeping his lover, Jack, safe; creating a genteel life for his ward, Elivra Royston; and smuggling Jews out of the country to safety. But he cannot juggle all three at once forever. When Elivra is accidentally embroiled in a plot to depose the Prime Minister, she and Carmichal will be forced to sacrifice much that they held dear.
In each book of the Small Change series, the tone has darkened; by this, the final book in the trilogy, matters are grim enough that greeting someone with "So I hear you're a fascist" is not an insult, but a complimentary bit of small talk. An entire generation has been raised with horrific values: even Elvira, a kind girl with intentions toward Oxford, thinks nothing of throwing rotten fruit at Jews. Walton does such an excellent job of slowly but surely tightening the noose that when relief does come, it feels a bit unearned. As much as I wanted to, I simply could not believe the ending of this trilogy. This is a series that deserves four stars at least, for its impeccable, thoughtful worlbuilding, nuanced character portraits, and chilling plots. But I can't help but feel a bit let down by the end.
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camps for nearly two decades. It's a fascinating alternate history, and one that is made particularly chilling by how solidly Walton crafts it. Carmichal was a mere Inspector from Scotland Yard in the first book of this trilogy, but he has progressed to head of the Watch (the British secret police, focused particularly on Jews and political dissidents). A thoughtful man of principles and deep loyalties, he has nevertheless made a series of compromises and betrayals over the years. While outwardly he is the most threatening man in Britain, in private he is focused on three things: keeping his lover, Jack, safe; creating a genteel life for his ward, Elivra Royston; and smuggling Jews out of the country to safety. But he cannot juggle all three at once forever. When Elivra is accidentally embroiled in a plot to depose the Prime Minister, she and Carmichal will be forced to sacrifice much that they held dear.
In each book of the Small Change series, the tone has darkened; by this, the final book in the trilogy, matters are grim enough that greeting someone with "So I hear you're a fascist" is not an insult, but a complimentary bit of small talk. An entire generation has been raised with horrific values: even Elvira, a kind girl with intentions toward Oxford, thinks nothing of throwing rotten fruit at Jews. Walton does such an excellent job of slowly but surely tightening the noose that when relief does come, it feels a bit unearned. As much as I wanted to, I simply could not believe the ending of this trilogy. This is a series that deserves four stars at least, for its impeccable, thoughtful worlbuilding, nuanced character portraits, and chilling plots. But I can't help but feel a bit let down by the end.
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LibraryThing member alexyskwan
An optimistic ending for a series that feels nearly hopeless. Brilliant world building, vivid characters, solid pacing,and the alternating povs were very successful in building suspense.
LibraryThing member ehines
A bit of a disappointment. The first book in this series had some great contrasts to set up: between the idyllic countryside and the sordid politics; between the refined manners and some awful, awful people; between the softness of the country house mystery and the hardness of the dilemmas fascism
There were some very good models that Walton could work with and against in creating her alternative history.
But the dilemma faced by the main character--essentially, on what terms to collaborate with an enemy who hates everything he values--isn't one that can be maintained for long.
The second book perhaps took things as far as they could be taken at a level of plausibility we might call serious.
This novel really goes well beyond that. The scenarios and action recall the airport thriller. Not that there's nothing here of value, just that the comparisons I think to make have gone from Peter Dickinson and Eric Ambler to, say, Robert Goddard. Again, far from awful, just a letdown (and perhaps an inevitable one) from the heights of Farthing.
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puts in people's way.There were some very good models that Walton could work with and against in creating her alternative history.
But the dilemma faced by the main character--essentially, on what terms to collaborate with an enemy who hates everything he values--isn't one that can be maintained for long.
The second book perhaps took things as far as they could be taken at a level of plausibility we might call serious.
This novel really goes well beyond that. The scenarios and action recall the airport thriller. Not that there's nothing here of value, just that the comparisons I think to make have gone from Peter Dickinson and Eric Ambler to, say, Robert Goddard. Again, far from awful, just a letdown (and perhaps an inevitable one) from the heights of Farthing.
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LibraryThing member Silvernfire
Drat. I don't think this book is as good as Farthing or Ha'penny. I enjoyed reading it, but it didn't measure up to the other two.
This book has the same narrative structure as the first two, with chapters told from a female first-person POV alternating with those told from Carmichael's third-person
Although Half a Crown was a page-turner, I missed having a substantial plot. Farthing had its murder mystery and Ha'penny had its political thriller to drive their plots along, but the main thrust of Half a Crown is Carmichael's attempts to rescue Elvira, and it didn't quite measure up. Elvira shines in the ending, but I found it disappointing otherwise.As others have commented, it's a deus ex machina ending (regina ex machina?), and felt contrived. But later, I realized that it also leaves too many questions unanswered. Carmichael and Elvira are safe, but what happened to Sir Alan and other characters? At the international level, Britain's change of heart isn't going to affect Nazi Germany or imperial Japan; how will a non-fascist Britain do in an essentially unchanged fascist-dominated world? I'm glad I read the book, because I did want a sense of closure after Ha'penny, and Half a Crown is a good read. Just not quite what I had hoped.
This book has the same narrative structure as the first two, with chapters told from a female first-person POV alternating with those told from Carmichael's third-person
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POV. In this book, though, Elvira and Carmichael aren't strangers. Since now Carmichael is head of the Watch, he's not investigating cases as he was back in 1949. So Half a Crown goes off in a different direction by necessity. And for much of the book, this works well. Elvira is young enough to not remember Britain before the Farthing Peace. Living in a fascist society is normal for her, and thanks to her father and Carmichael being police officers, she's always had good experiences with the police. Her growing realization that the police and the government are harming and killing people—real people, not just stereotyped villains—is handled well.Although Half a Crown was a page-turner, I missed having a substantial plot. Farthing had its murder mystery and Ha'penny had its political thriller to drive their plots along, but the main thrust of Half a Crown is Carmichael's attempts to rescue Elvira, and it didn't quite measure up. Elvira shines in the ending, but I found it disappointing otherwise.
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LibraryThing member ParadisePorch
Last in the small change trilogy. I found this a bit grimmer than the first two books, but still riveting. No happy endings here.
Set in mid-20th century England that has an alternate history.
Set in mid-20th century England that has an alternate history.
LibraryThing member covertprestige
The first two books in this series were so amazing and I was so excited for the end of the trilogy that there was really no way that I wouldn't be let down by this.
LibraryThing member ChrisRiesbeck
A respectable conclusion to the Small Change trilogy, better than the second book, not quite the knockout that the first book was. As with the other two books, a first-person female narrative alternates with the continuing third-person story of Peter Carmichael, of Scotland Yard and now the Watch.
Recommended.
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The female is Carmichael's charge, Elvira, who has grown up in fascist England and thinks it's ever so much fun. Her arc is predictable but well-told, as is Carmichael's, but in her case, it's a standard plot, and in his it's the more weight of reality that drives things. The weak point is the very unconvincing ending. Still, the majority of the novel is compelling.Recommended.
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LibraryThing member daschaich
Minireview: Half a Crown is the third and final volume of Watson's Small Change trilogy, set in 1960, roughly a decade after the first two books, Farthing and Ha'penny. In an alternate universe where the UK and Nazi Germany negotiated a peace agreement in 1941, the 1950s saw the creeping
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establishment of fascism in England, complete with a death camp under construction for dissidents and Jews. As in the previous volumes, chapters alternate between first and third person, the third-person perspective following Commander Carmichael, a former Scotland Yard Inspector blackmailed into serving as the reluctant administrator of the Watch, Britain's Gestapo. The first-person viewpoint is Carmichael's ward Elvira Royston, the eighteen-year-old daughter of Carmichael's former subordinate who had been killed in the line of duty. Carmichael has secretly used his position to help smuggle Jews out of the country, and runs into danger of exposure after Elvira is inadvertantly mixed up with rebellious fascists plotting a coup. The development of Elvira, who has lived most of her life under fascism and initially considers it merely "the most terrific fun", is captivating. The optimistic conclusion isn't quite in the spirit or tone of the rest of the trilogy, but is well done and comes as something of a relief. Show Less
LibraryThing member cbl_tn
In an alternate Great Britain in 1960 where the nation made peace with Germany in 1941 and Hitler is still living, the nation is preparing to host a peace conference with representatives from Germany and Japan. 18-year-old debutante Elvira Royston is preparing to be presented to the Queen, and her
This was a page-turner as tension built around Elvira and Carmichael. The resolution was a little too quick and easy and it left some threads hanging. I wish I could say that the alternate world that Walton created in this trilogy would never really exist, but in the current state of the world, it’s all too easy to imagine such a repressive social structure developing.
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guardian, Peter Carmichael, has his hands full preparing for the peace conference as head of the Watch. Elvira and her friend Betsy accept an invitation to a fascist rally at Marble Arch. Everything starts to go wrong when a riot breaks out at the Rally and Elvira is swept up in the aftermath. Does Carmichael have enough political capital to protect her without exposing his clandestine activities?This was a page-turner as tension built around Elvira and Carmichael. The resolution was a little too quick and easy and it left some threads hanging. I wish I could say that the alternate world that Walton created in this trilogy would never really exist, but in the current state of the world, it’s all too easy to imagine such a repressive social structure developing.
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Awards
Romantic Times Reviewers' Choice Award (Winner — Science Fiction Novel — 2008)
Locus Award (Nominee — Science Fiction Novel — 2009)
Sunburst Award (Shortlist — Adult — 2009)
Gaylactic Spectrum Award (Nominee — Novel — 2009)
Sidewise Award (Finalist — 2008)
Prometheus Award (Nominee — Novel — 2009)
Locus Recommended Reading (2008)
Language
Original publication date
2008-09
Physical description
316 p.; 21 cm
ISBN
9780765323156
DDC/MDS
| Fic SF Walton |