Take a photo of a barcode or cover
dc60 's review for:
The Franchise Affair
by Josephine Tey
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.