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3.84 AVERAGE
3.84 AVERAGE
I was constantly having to pause and absorb how intensely classist it was -- but I kept going because it really was well written and interesting. Still, it was sometimes quite a lot to swallow. Even though it had two strong, really appealing female characters, it was appalling in its venom towards its one sexually active girl. The writing makes this at least 4 stars but I can't give it more than 3 due to its bone deep nastiness
dark
mysterious
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
I am participating in the 2016 Back to the Classic Challenge hosted by Karen on the blog Books and Chocolate. This title fills the category of Classic Detective Novel. This is the fourth Tey mystery that I have read and I can say that I am impressed at how they each have been very different from each other. The Franchise Affair is billed as an Inspector Grant mystery, but actually, he is barely in it. Instead, the “detective” in this case is an amateur sleuth: Robert Blair is an unmarried, middle aged small town solicitor whose routine is rather thrillingly disrupted when a local mother and daughter are accused of kidnapping and enslaving a 16 year old-school girl.
I enjoyed the mystery side of the story alright. I thought though the plot seemed a little familiar (turns out it is based on a real event that took place in the 1700s and I read a Guardian article written by Sarah Waters about the book ages ago which is really excellent – go read it: http://www.theguardian.com/books/2009/may/30/sarah-waters-books ). What I found a little hard to swallow in the book is characters who think they can tell a criminal by way their eyes are set or by the shape of their forehead, etc., that smacks too much of pseudo-sciences such as phrenology. So I read much of this book with an entire salt cellar. There is a lot of classism and virulent hatred directed toward girls who are perceived as being no better than they ought to be.
I enjoyed the mystery side of the story alright. I thought though the plot seemed a little familiar (turns out it is based on a real event that took place in the 1700s and I read a Guardian article written by Sarah Waters about the book ages ago which is really excellent – go read it: http://www.theguardian.com/books/2009/may/30/sarah-waters-books ). What I found a little hard to swallow in the book is characters who think they can tell a criminal by way their eyes are set or by the shape of their forehead, etc., that smacks too much of pseudo-sciences such as phrenology. So I read much of this book with an entire salt cellar. There is a lot of classism and virulent hatred directed toward girls who are perceived as being no better than they ought to be.
Back when mysteries didn't have subplots, and the solutions all had to do with (spoiler) oversexed young ladies. Deeply, deeply English. I learned some new phrases!
I don't read mysteries, so while I thought this was a good mystery novel it should be taken with a grain of salt. I enjoyed it and I thought the revelations were well-spaced and interesting, although it was one of those mysteries that reveals things in its own time so there's pretty much no way at all you could "figure it out" ahead of time. I liked that, because we discover what's going on at the same rate as the protagonist and you don't have that smug Poirot thing where the detective knows all along what happened and just hasn't deigned to tell you.
Also, this book is fucking BRITISH AS FUCK. I loved that part of it; how much discussion of decorum and hats can you seriously fit into one story about a lawyer trying to get his clients off a kidnapping and abuse charge? So much fun.
Also, this book is fucking BRITISH AS FUCK. I loved that part of it; how much discussion of decorum and hats can you seriously fit into one story about a lawyer trying to get his clients off a kidnapping and abuse charge? So much fun.
Josephine Tey is less well-known today than she used to be. She wrote a number of detective novels, often featuring Inspector Grant of Scotland Yard, and some of them are pretty much required reading for anyway who is interested in "Golden Age" detective fiction. Her two most renowned books are [b:The Daughter of Time|383206|Wives and Daughters (Penguin Classics)|Elizabeth Gaskell|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1174341632s/383206.jpg|816009], in which Grant tackles the mystery of the princes in the Tower (well worth reading whether you enjoy a good detective story or are interested in the historical mystery) and this one, [b:The Franchise Affair|243401|The Franchise Affair|Josephine Tey|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1173064430s/243401.jpg|1620751]. (The title doesn't suggest a gripping book, but don't worry: the Franchise is merely the name of a house.)
The problem the protagonist (a small-town lawyer) is faced with is how to prove something didn't happen. A girl accuses two women of kidnapping her, beating her, attempting to make her their servant; when she turns up at her adoptive mother's door, she certainly has bruises and she is able to provide a circumstantial description of the house where her alleged captors supposedly held her prisoner (the Franchise, an isolated house in the country).
The women turn to Blair, the lawayer, who finds he believes them and not the girl, and sets himself to proving that she's lying. Of course, you cannot prove something didn't happen, so he endeavours to find out where else the girl might have been for the time she said she was abducted. This is a tall order, of course, and one failing of the book is that he fundamentally gets lucky: eventually, someone happens to see her photograph and recognise her, providing the thread which Blair can tug on to unravel the girl's story. If this had happened because of some of his actions, it would be more satisfactory, but it comes out of the blue as an answer to prayer (seriously). [This is giving nothing away. There is really no lengthy doubt at any point during the narrative that the accused women are innocent: the question is, can that be proven?]
The other problem is that Tey (as in her other books, [b:The Daughter of Time|383206|Wives and Daughters (Penguin Classics)|Elizabeth Gaskell|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1174341632s/383206.jpg|816009] apart, perhaps because of its subject matter) comes across as a fairly obnoxious snob. There is a consistency of her tone in disparaging the modern and anything which seems common or vulgar which makes it impossible to take the many acerbic asides on the modern world as merely reflecting her characters' views, and she is scathingly dismissive of anyone whose mental abilities fall short of her standard. At one point, buildings around a vacant bomb site are likened to "mentally deficient children", a very odd image. The approved lower orders fit into well-defined and helpful stereotypes. She does take some very well-aimed swipes at the sort of do-gooder who can always see the good in a multiple murderer but never in a poverty-stricken honest labourer. She goes too far, though, in dismissing environment as a cause of crime, and is very much supporting the idea that bad blood will out.
It says something for her craft as a writer that despite her coming across as someone one might not want ever to meet, some of her characters not only convince but become likable, and the narrative pulls the reader along, certainly until the puzzle is dealt with and all the pieces are slotted in place. After that, though... it's difficult to care too much about the fates of the characters, even about the girl, whatever her fate may be. (Some punishment for perjury would seem appropriate, but once the defendants' case is proven and the day is won, there's no real interest in the lying girl.)
A short summary: worth reading, but it shows its age and some of the author's prejudices are hard to stomach.
The problem the protagonist (a small-town lawyer) is faced with is how to prove something didn't happen. A girl accuses two women of kidnapping her, beating her, attempting to make her their servant; when she turns up at her adoptive mother's door, she certainly has bruises and she is able to provide a circumstantial description of the house where her alleged captors supposedly held her prisoner (the Franchise, an isolated house in the country).
The women turn to Blair, the lawayer, who finds he believes them and not the girl, and sets himself to proving that she's lying. Of course, you cannot prove something didn't happen, so he endeavours to find out where else the girl might have been for the time she said she was abducted. This is a tall order, of course, and one failing of the book is that he fundamentally gets lucky: eventually, someone happens to see her photograph and recognise her, providing the thread which Blair can tug on to unravel the girl's story. If this had happened because of some of his actions, it would be more satisfactory, but it comes out of the blue as an answer to prayer (seriously). [This is giving nothing away. There is really no lengthy doubt at any point during the narrative that the accused women are innocent: the question is, can that be proven?]
The other problem is that Tey (as in her other books, [b:The Daughter of Time|383206|Wives and Daughters (Penguin Classics)|Elizabeth Gaskell|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1174341632s/383206.jpg|816009] apart, perhaps because of its subject matter) comes across as a fairly obnoxious snob. There is a consistency of her tone in disparaging the modern and anything which seems common or vulgar which makes it impossible to take the many acerbic asides on the modern world as merely reflecting her characters' views, and she is scathingly dismissive of anyone whose mental abilities fall short of her standard. At one point, buildings around a vacant bomb site are likened to "mentally deficient children", a very odd image. The approved lower orders fit into well-defined and helpful stereotypes. She does take some very well-aimed swipes at the sort of do-gooder who can always see the good in a multiple murderer but never in a poverty-stricken honest labourer. She goes too far, though, in dismissing environment as a cause of crime, and is very much supporting the idea that bad blood will out.
It says something for her craft as a writer that despite her coming across as someone one might not want ever to meet, some of her characters not only convince but become likable, and the narrative pulls the reader along, certainly until the puzzle is dealt with and all the pieces are slotted in place. After that, though... it's difficult to care too much about the fates of the characters, even about the girl, whatever her fate may be. (Some punishment for perjury would seem appropriate, but once the defendants' case is proven and the day is won, there's no real interest in the lying girl.)
A short summary: worth reading, but it shows its age and some of the author's prejudices are hard to stomach.
I enjoyed it but I kept expecting a twist that never came (sorry, this is probably a bit of a spoiler). I'm giving it 4⭐ for the very Christie characters and writing and 3⭐ for the plot.
Originally published on my blog here in November 2001.
The Franchise Affair may be Tey's best known novel (it is probably a toss up between it and [b:Brat Farrar|243397|Brat Farrar|Josephine Tey|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1348065821s/243397.jpg|1003711]). It takes a famous eighteenth century crime and updates it into the twentieth century, and it may well be the most famous crime novel which doesn't involve a death.
The Franchise is the name of a house which stands on its own on a main road, and which is inhabited by the Sharpes, mother and daughter. Their quite life is suddenly interrupted when a sixteen year old girl makes a serious accusation against them - that they kidnapped her and imprisoned her in their attic, where she was systematically beaten over a period of a month. Her story is corroborated by her knowledge of the interior of the Franchise, a house which the Sharpes say she has never entered.
The story is told from the point of view of the Sharpes' solicitor, who is more used to the duller kind of work which would be expected of a small market town solicitor, mainly wills and conveyancing. It is thus assumed throughout that the girl is lying and that the aim is to prove it, by showing what she was doing in the missing month and how she came to know about the interior of the Franchise. Tey comes up with ingenious solutions to both of these problems though they have the flaw that they rely on twentieth century technology and so couldn't solve the equivalent problems for the eighteenth century version of the mystery.
One of the major themes of the novel is how it is impossible to know the truth about what is reported in the media, illustrated by the way that a tabloid takes up the girl's story and the misinformed comment in a liberal magazine which follows. While Tey takes things a little far to make her point - surely there must be some causes of this type which deserve to benefit from media publicity (child abuse scandals in children's homes are perhaps an obvious example) - it is difficult not to agree that much journalism panders to the prejudices of the lowest common denominator.
The slightly facile psychology of The Franchise Affair (particularly apparent in Tey's recurring fascination with the possibility that criminals could be infallibly detected through their facial features) does not stop the novel from deserving its place as one of the classics of the genre.
The Franchise Affair may be Tey's best known novel (it is probably a toss up between it and [b:Brat Farrar|243397|Brat Farrar|Josephine Tey|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1348065821s/243397.jpg|1003711]). It takes a famous eighteenth century crime and updates it into the twentieth century, and it may well be the most famous crime novel which doesn't involve a death.
The Franchise is the name of a house which stands on its own on a main road, and which is inhabited by the Sharpes, mother and daughter. Their quite life is suddenly interrupted when a sixteen year old girl makes a serious accusation against them - that they kidnapped her and imprisoned her in their attic, where she was systematically beaten over a period of a month. Her story is corroborated by her knowledge of the interior of the Franchise, a house which the Sharpes say she has never entered.
The story is told from the point of view of the Sharpes' solicitor, who is more used to the duller kind of work which would be expected of a small market town solicitor, mainly wills and conveyancing. It is thus assumed throughout that the girl is lying and that the aim is to prove it, by showing what she was doing in the missing month and how she came to know about the interior of the Franchise. Tey comes up with ingenious solutions to both of these problems though they have the flaw that they rely on twentieth century technology and so couldn't solve the equivalent problems for the eighteenth century version of the mystery.
One of the major themes of the novel is how it is impossible to know the truth about what is reported in the media, illustrated by the way that a tabloid takes up the girl's story and the misinformed comment in a liberal magazine which follows. While Tey takes things a little far to make her point - surely there must be some causes of this type which deserve to benefit from media publicity (child abuse scandals in children's homes are perhaps an obvious example) - it is difficult not to agree that much journalism panders to the prejudices of the lowest common denominator.
The slightly facile psychology of The Franchise Affair (particularly apparent in Tey's recurring fascination with the possibility that criminals could be infallibly detected through their facial features) does not stop the novel from deserving its place as one of the classics of the genre.
Well I finished The Franchise Affair and I have to sat it's the first time I have been driven to finish a book by shear disgust at the ideas it puts forwards. I began to get a little uncomfortable both author ad charactors quite early into this novel but it was so well written that I decided to stick with it. What carried my on to the end was disbelief that anyone could take this woman seriously.
A friend passed this link on to (spoiler alert)
http://www.theguardian.com/books/2009...
It is a piece by Sarah Waters that puts the story into context. I still hate the book, but maybe my reaction says as much about my own prejudices as it does about Ms. Teys.
A friend passed this link on to (spoiler alert)
http://www.theguardian.com/books/2009...
It is a piece by Sarah Waters that puts the story into context. I still hate the book, but maybe my reaction says as much about my own prejudices as it does about Ms. Teys.
A mystery/crime novel written in the late 40s. A mother and her middle aged daughter are accused of abducting a 15yo girl and keeping her locked in an attic so she could work as their maid. This was well written and cleverly plotted. I was hoping for some sort of twist but none eventuates. I liked the image of the tabloid newspapers and how they stir up outrage. The judgements of townspeople and their easy prejudices are all on display. There’s certainly lots of class judgement going on. In the end the horrible working class girl gets her comeuppance and hopefully the lovely but not well off middle class woman won’t have to wash dishes ever again.