The Sharing Knife: Beguilement by Lois McMaster Bujold: B

March 31, 2009 by 6 Comments

From the front flap:
Young Fawn Bluefield has fled her family’s farm hoping to find work in the city of Glassforge. Uncertain about her future and the troubles she carries, Fawn stops for a drink of water at a roadside inn, where she counters a patrol of Lakewalkers, enigmatic soldier-sorcerers from the woodland culture to the north. Though Fawn has heard stories about the Lakewalkers, she is unaware that they are engaged in a perilous campaign against inhuman and immortal magical entities known as “malices,” creatures that suck the life out of all they encounter, and turn men and animals into their minions.

Dag is an older Lakewalker patroller who carries his past sorrows as heavily as his present responsibilities. When Fawn is kidnapped by the malice Dag’s patrol is tracking, Dag races to rescue her. But in the ensuing struggle, it is not Dag but Fawn who kills the creature—at dire cost—and an uncanny accident befalls Dag’s sharing knife, which unexpectedly binds their two fates together.

Review:
For all that this book took me something like six weeks to finish, I find that I don’t actually have all that much to say about it. The description quoted above admirably sums up the beginning of the novel, in which Dag rescues Fawn from some bandits, her pregnant status provokes a nasty creature to kidnap her back again, and they end up taking down a “malice” together. I can’t help but think that the reason the blurb doesn’t touch on any plot after this point is that there really isn’t much of one.

Beguilement is really more of a romance than a fantasy novel, though Bujold has still done a good job with the worldbuilding, working in details on the differences between Fawn’s and Dag’s cultures throughout the novel. But after the malice is defeated, there isn’t much going on except them riding on horses, staying in inns, developing fancies for one another, finally consummating their relationship, doing it many more times and often outdoors in the company of bugs, encountering Fawn’s not-so-supportive family, convincing them to support a marriage, and getting hitched. I guess if I lay it out like that it looks like a lot happened, but really, how much of that sounds like a fantasy novel?

The fact that the characters are both likable makes up for some of the plotlessness, at least. Fawn has had a very sheltered upbringing where her thirst for knowledge was not encouraged. Now, with support for her quick wits, she proves herself to be pretty clever and resourceful. Dag is a very experienced patroller who was widowed before Fawn’s birth (there’s quite a big age difference between them) and has been fiercely solitary ever since, so opening himself up to her is a pretty unique experience for him. Because there’s a lot that Fawn doesn’t know and is curious about, it sometimes seems like you’ve got the “wise man teaching ignorant girl” dynamic going on, but it’s not really pervasive. There’s one scene near the end where Dag praises Fawn for a brilliant leap of logic that comes across as completely admiring and not at all patronizing. It even made me a bit sniffly after seeing how little her family appreciates her.

Too, Bujold simply writes really well. Without being overly wordy, she can paint a scene so vividly that it’s incredibly easy to visualize. The best example is probably the part where Dag has found the malice’s lair and is taking in the layout of the area: I swear I could picture it perfectly after only a couple of sentences. And even if the parts with Fawn’s family were rather uncomfortable to read, considering their dismissive treatment of her, they were still entertaining. Probably, enduring all that strife was necessary so as to be as relieved as the main characters when they were finally able to leave it all behind.

While I like Fawn and Dag both together and separately, I do hope that there’s more of a plot to the next book. A typical fantasy series would have an epic quest to wipe out evil, but I sort of doubt Bujold is going to adhere to standard genre tropes. Because I do admire her writing, I’m willing to stick around and see how the story develops, but if this was the first installment of a story by anyone else, I’m not sure I’d be too keen to continue with it.

Additional reviews of The Sharing Knife:Beguilement can be found at Triple Take.

Filed Under: Books, Fantasy, Romance, Triple Take Tagged With:

The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya by Nagaru Tanigawa: B-

March 27, 2009 by Leave a Comment

Even if you haven’t consumed it in any format, any otaku worthy of the name has at least heard of The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya. The anime has been released by Bandai Entertainment, Yen Press is putting out the manga, but now, courtesy of Little, Brown and Company (also part of the Hachette Book Group along with Yen Press) we finally have the story in its original light novel form. Because I generally tend to like the first incarnation of a tale more than its adaptations, it was the light novel that most appealed to me.

The story is told from the retrospective point of view of a teenage boy known only as Kyon. As a kid, Kyon dreamed of fighting aliens—preferably as a sidekick rather than someone who had to actually engage in combat—and encountering a mysterious transfer student with extraordinary powers. He eventually grew out of such ideas, but he discovers that not everyone his age has done the same when, on the first day of high school, his classmate Haruhi Suzumiya uses her class introduction to instruct all aliens, time travelers, and espers to seek her out.

Haruhi spurns contact with normal humans, but Kyon’s able to get through to her by talking about the topics that actually interest her. He seals his own fate when he suggests to Haruhi, despondent over not finding any clubs that deal with her interests, that she create a club of her own. He’s instantly drafted as the first member of the “SOS Brigade” and caught up in Haruhi’s obsession to seek out and observe mysterious happenings.

As the story progresses, the other members of the club confess to Kyon that they actually are an alien, a time traveler, and an esper and provide proof to back up their claims (ultimately fulfilling Kyon’s childhood dreams). They’ve each come to study Haruhi, for she unknowingly has the ability to make her wishes reality, and the current world exists as it does because of her. Kyon’s job is to make sure she stays satisfied with this world and doesn’t seek to recreate it. One thing I never realized before reading the novel is that the melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya is actually a dangerous thing. The title doesn’t refer simply to her dissatisfaction with the mundane, but to the destruction that begins to occur when she grows despondent.

There are some elements of the writing and the story that work for me—like some snicker-worthy bits and the creative backstories for the other club members—but likewise there are things that bug me. For example, the prose is liberally sprinkled with cheesy similes that compare smiles to sunflowers in a grassy field, exhalations to fluttering butterflies, et cetera. I’m not sure if that’s Tanigawa’s idea of good writing or if it’s supposed to be Kyon’s view of same.

Too, I’m quite bothered by Haruhi’s treatment of Mikuru Asahina. Haruhi nabs Mikuru because she believes that every story features a moe character, so having Mikuru around will increase the chances of something interesting happening. She forces Mikuru to dress in skimpy costumes and is continually groping her and photographing her in provocative poses. This element of the story shows several characters in their worst light: Haruhi as bossy and thoughtless, Mikuru as weepy and simpering, and Kyon as a creepy horndog who finds Mikuru’s distressed reactions appealing and saves a folder of her risqué photos for his “private viewing pleasure.”

The actual sci-fi plot of the story is fairly intriguing and the book is a quick and easy read. Unfortunately, because it is a light novel, it never gets as dark or as deep as I personally would’ve liked. Still, because Haruhi is capable of shaping the world to her liking, there are a lot of places the story could go from here.

The back cover blurb notes that Tanigawa is currently working on the tenth installment in the series.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at Manga Recon.

Filed Under: Books, Light Novel, Sci-Fi Tagged With:

Twilight by Stephenie Meyer: D

March 24, 2009 by 16 Comments

twilightcoverFrom the back cover:
About three things I was absolutely positive.

First, Edward was a vampire.

Second, there was a part of him—and I didn’t know how dominant that part might be—that thirsted for my blood.

And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.

Review:
I can’t say I wasn’t warned. Often and at length, as a matter of fact. Still, I wanted to make up my own mind about the series, and felt that I couldn’t legitimately mock something if I had no basis for my comments. So I read it. And let me be clear about one thing: all of those warnings were absolutely right.

If you don’t know by now, Twilight is the story of Bella Swan, our klutzy and apparently delicious-smelling heroine, who moves to the perpetually overcast town of Forks to live with her father. There, she encounters Edward Cullen, who, we are told many times, is the personification of physical perfection. He also happens to be a vampire, and does things like save Bella from getting hit by a car, follow her when she and her friends go shopping in another town, and break into her house to watch her sleep. Which isn’t creepy at all.

For the first 80% of the book or so, there’s really no plot. There’s just Bella and Edward encountering each other, him aloof at first (but only because he’s trying to resist her extra-tasty aroma) and her growing increasingly more infatuated with him. Edward’s fond of sending mixed messages, too, like saying, “You need to stay away from me” and then promptly inviting her on a jaunt to Seattle. Maybe this is supposed to be the plot, because it happens several times—Edward threatening to go away or angsting that she’s better off without him, but in the end, not going anywhere.

He eventually opens up and shares more vampire facts—culminating in the unintentionally hilarious scene where he reveals his ability to sparkle in the sunlight. Yes, really. Towards the end, Meyer realizes she needs some conflict or something, so a vampire with tracking abilities is introduced and sets his sights on Bella, forcing all of Edward’s vampy brethren to take her into hiding to protect her. Bella asks Edward to make her a vampire so she can be safe and stay with him forever and ever, but he claims to know what’s best for her and refuses to comply. Then they go to prom.

Besides being almost unbearably dull, Twilight sometimes cracked me up with its lame writing. I snickered every time Bella, when pondering Edward’s latest directive to keep her distance, claimed that she was “gripped in a sudden agony of despair.” There are lots of lines about how Edward is her whole life now, and how “his liquid topaz eyes were penetrating” and his breath makes her mouth water, et cetera, but here’s my favorite:

His expression slowly folded into a mask of ancient sadness.

Seriously, that is making me giggle even now.

Neither Bella nor Edward is particularly likable. There’s one scene where a friend of Bella’s father tries to warn her away from dating Edward, and I’m sure I was supposed to sympathize with her because of this meddling adult but all I could think of was how bratty and rude she was being. One could argue I’m simply too old to appreciate this book, but there’s at least one person at work around my age who’s quite vocal about her love for the series.

About the only marginally interesting apsects of the book are the backstories of Edward’s family and how they became vampires. Even so, I find that a single sentence is the limit of the praise I can summon.

Lastly, I leave you with this comic I drew for my coworker’s eleven-year-old daughter, whose bedroom is a Twilight museum but whom I also successfully hooked on Buffy. Tremble before my leet artistic skills.

Filed Under: Books, Supernatural, YA

Desire: Dangerous Feelings by Maki Kazumi and Yukine Honami: C+

February 25, 2009 by Leave a Comment

The boys’ love manga Desire, published by DMP in 2004, was one of the first titles I read in that genre and remains one of my favorites. The story’s original creators team up once again for Desire: Dangerous Feelings, a novelization of the manga’s events that also includes some new material continuing where the original left off.

Timid high school student Toru Maiki has secretly loved his popular friend Ryoji for a long time. One day at lunch, Ryoji unexpectedly and shamelessly tells Toru, “When I look at you, I get turned on.” Toru, paranoid about his feelings being discovered, reacts angrily. Later, however, when Ryoji insists they sleep together so he can see what it’s like, Toru goes along with it with the hope that doing so will get thoughts of Ryoji out of his system. This, of course, does not happen, and as the boys continue their purely physical relationship, Toru suffers a great deal of heartache from sleeping with someone he loves who does not feel the same way about him.

Because I am familiar with the original story, it’s hard to know how well the text-only version would work for someone who can’t bring Yukine Honami’s expressive artwork to mind to accompany the action (the sporadic illustrations don’t add much). The language used is very simple and, though the smattering of new details is welcome, some poignancy is lost in this format. In the manga, we’re able to see Toru’s face as he struggles with his thoughts and feelings. In the novelization, those same moments are presented in an almost clinical fashion. Here’s an example:

Toru felt like he was going to have a breakdown just thinking about it. He thought if every day would be this stressful then he would die.

The novel also fares poorly in regards to Desire’s one serious flaw: non-consensual scenes. Ryoji basically forces Toru to have sex with him a couple of times and though Toru eventually relents, I doubt that Ryoji would’ve stopped even if he hadn’t. Though unpleasant in any format, these scenes are worse to read in the novel because it’s more clear how much discomfort and pain Toru is experiencing.

At this point, it may seem like the novel is at a complete disadvantage to the manga, but it has an ace up its sleeve: a second half comprised entirely of new material. It’s not much of an ace, though, as the continuation of Toru and Ryoji’s story relies heavily on misunderstandings and each boy doubting the other’s feelings for its plot. It also seems like all they ever do is have sex. They don’t hang out outside of school or go on dates or anything. They just boff, and when they aren’t boffing, they’re talking about boffing.

Ultimately, I must conclude that the novelization doesn’t add much to the original story. Completists might appreciate knowing what happened next, but really, it’s nothing to get excited about.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at Manga Recon.

Filed Under: Books, LGBTQIA+, Light Novel Tagged With: ,

For the Sake of Elena by Elizabeth George: B

February 18, 2009 by 2 Comments

From the back cover:
Elena, a young, flamboyant Cambridge student, the daughter of a professor nominated for a prestigious post, is found brutally murdered on an isolated jogging path. Frustrated by a rarefied world in which academic gowns hide murderous intentions, New Scotland Yard’s Detective Inspector Thomas Lynley and his partner Sergeant Barbara Havers sift contradictory clues to Elena’s elusive character.

For both officers, not until they come to terms with the woman Elena was—Jezebel, victim, iconoclast—will they have a chance of stopping her killer.

Review:
It was such a relief to read about a case in the present day and a novel in which the detectives’ personal angst didn’t overshadow the investigation and actually was rather tied into it in a way. Havers was back, too, and her companionable relationship with Lynley was quite enjoyable to witness.

The case itself was interesting if not thrilling, and I thought George did an admirable job of portraying the victim as a multi-layered person. So many negative things were learned about her through the course of the investigation, but I never could forget our first image of her—being kind to her pet mouse before going out on what would be the last morning run of her life.

Unfortunately, many of the other characters involved were thoroughly unpleasant, mostly in the things they’d say to or demand of other people in their lives. On several occasions I had to take a break for a bit because a scene or conversation had surpassed my limits for such things. It’s interesting that I can blithely accept an account of a girl’s murder without so much as flinching, but let the narrative dwell too long on recriminations exchanged between members of the dead girl’s family and I must look away, in a figurative as well as literal sense.

Some of the unpleasantness did serve a purpose, however, as the preoccupation of the murdered girl’s father with appearances helped Havers to realize that there was no shame in finding a place for her senile mother to live where she’d be better cared for. Too, the demands and desires of some of the men in the case helped Lynley see that he’d been focusing on the things he wanted his would-be wife, Helen, to do and be for him, rather than considering what he could do and be for her.

Ultimately, this was a good entry into the Lynley series. I see that the next features Deborah St. James prominently, however, and I fear for a return of her baby angst.

Filed Under: Books, Mystery Tagged With:

Forever Princess by Meg Cabot: C+

February 11, 2009 by 2 Comments

From the front flap:
It’s Mia’s senior year, and things seem great. She aced her senior project, got accepted to her dream college(s), and has her birthday gala coming up… not to mention prom, graduation, and Genovia’s first-ever elections.

What’s not to love about her life? Well…
* Her senior project? It’s a romance novel she secretly wrote, and no one wants to publish it.
* Prince Phillipe’s campaign in the Genovian elections isn’t going well, thanks to her totally loathsome cousin René, who decided to run against him.
* Her boyfriend, J.P., is so sweet and seemingly perfect. But is he the one?
* And her first love, Michael, is back from Japan… and back in her life.

With Genovia’s and her own future hanging in the balance, Mia’s got some decisions to make. Which college? Which guy? How can she choose? Especially when what she decides might determine not just the next four years, but… forever!

Review:
Nearly two years have passed since the events of Princess Mia, and now it’s just a week until graduation. Mia has spent the intervening time working on a steamy romance novel for her senior project, but has lied to her friends, telling them it’s about Genovian olive oil processing. She’s also lied about various other things, as well, including hiding the fact that she got accepted into quite a few prestigious colleges.

I found the first half of the book to be very annoying, as Mia’s constant justifications of why she can’t just come out and tell people things are quite frustrating. She says stuff like, “I course I couldn’t tell Tina the truth—that my senior project is not a history of Genovian olive oil processing but in reality a romance novel, because it has sex scenes, and she’ll wonder how I researched them.” Both K and I were confused as to why this was a problem, since Tina is a big romance novel fan. My theory was that Mia thought Tina would realize she had broken their “let’s lose our virginity on prom night” deal and had already had sex with J.P., thus providing insights for her novel. It turns out, though, that the big mystery of how she researched them is… by reading copious amounts of romance novels. She and J.P. have evidently not gotten beyond first base in two years of dating. (!)

The second half is a bit better, though. Michael returns and J.P. finally shows his true colors. Both Mia and Lilly have grown up, too, so are able to patch things up. Does Mia realize how much she is to blame for all that went wrong, like I’d hoped? Not really, but she does at least have a decent conversation with Michael about how she screwed everything up. Mostly, her failings are attributed to her immaturity at the time rather than to any lingering personality issues, like chronic indecision.

I also like that she’s very responsible about sex and subsequently firm in her convictions that she could say no if she wasn’t ready. I just wish she weren’t prone to declaring “I suck!” when being equally firm and reasonable about the nature of the publishing contract for her romance novel (the excerpts of which are laughably bad, by the way). She’s well within her rights to want the book to be considered on its own merits, but still feels bad for refusing a lucrative offer J.P. wrangles purely on the basis of her celebrity status.

Anyway, the ending is satisfying, with various important conversations finally transpiring and loose ends wrapped up. It even gets a little amusing: my favorite line is, “Hey, quit sniffing me a minute.” Ultimately, however, my primary emotion is relief that I can now go a very long time without reading anything by Meg Cabot.

Filed Under: Books, YA Tagged With:

The Year Without Michael by Susan Beth Pfeffer: C

February 8, 2009 by Leave a Comment

From the back cover:
Bad things aren’t supposed to happen to good people. But somewhere between home and the softball field, 16-year-old Jody Chapman’s younger brother disappeared, and now the family is falling apart. Her parents hardly speak to each other, her younger sister is angry and bitter, and Jody’s friends, always so important to her, are slowly slipping away. It seems that all anyone can do is wait. Wait—for Michael to walk in the door. Wait—to stop missing him. Wait—to stop waiting. When a private detective can’t uncover a single clue about Michael’s disappearance, Jody’s urgent need to find him drives her to make a last desperate attempt to hold her family together.

Review:
Having mostly enjoyed Life As We Knew It, I decided to check out something else by Pfeffer. The subject matter is different but the general idea of a family in crisis still remains. I don’t think Pfeffer handled it as well in this earlier book, however.

The major issue is the terrible dialogue. Though the back cover promises “honest dialogue,” in reality it is anything but. I think the problem is that there is seldom any indication of tone or delivery. It’s just ____ said, ____ replied, ____ declared. Even when a character is supposed to be having an outburst, the text doesn’t bring the idea across. Here’s an example:

“I hate all of you. You’re all crazy and I hate you all, and I wish you’d all just leave me alone and die.”

Not even one exclamation mark in all of that? I can’t help but read it in the blandest possible monotone.

The dialogue problems really undercut anything else that Pfeffer might’ve achieved. For all I know, this is an accurate portrayal of the kind of upheaval a family goes through after a child goes missing—oft-repeated hopeful speculation and empty promises giving way to tantrums and irrational blame games—but it just doesn’t seem genuine.

Filed Under: Books, YA Tagged With:

Miss Pym Disposes by Josephine Tey: B

January 29, 2009 by Leave a Comment

From the back cover:
Leys Physical Training College was famous for its excellent discipline and Miss Lucy Pym was pleased and flattered to be invited to give a psychology lecture there. But she had to admit that the health and vibrant beauty of the students made her feel just a little inadequate. Then there was a nasty accident—and suddenly Miss Pym was forced to apply her agile intellect to the unpleasant fact that among all those impressively healthy bodies someone had a very sick mind…

Review:
Miss Lucy Pym, after receiving a legacy from a relative, has retired from her life of teaching and become somewhat of a lay expert on psychology. Having written a surprisingly successful book on the topic, she’s been regularly giving lectures. One of Lucy’s former schoolmates, now principal of Leys Physical Training College, invites Lucy to come and speak to her students. The first two-thirds of the book is Lucy getting to know the students and the staff, and sets up the “nasty accident” that is to come.

Like The Franchise Affair before it, Miss Pym Disposes begins quite charmingly but becomes rather improbable toward the end. The book is almost wholly populated by female characters, and to see a lot of girls bustling about, learning medical skills as well as honing their own physical prowess reminded me a bit of the Sue Barton series of books. Some mildly racist attitudes and comments mar this section, and Lucy’s waffling over what to do about a cheating student gets a bit annoying, but overall it’s pleasant fun.

After a certain point, the outcome becomes a bit predictable. The cheating student is undeservedly given a prime post at a distinguished girls’ school that everyone had assumed would go to another girl, and is eventually mortally injured by a bit of gymnastic equipment. I found it quite easy to peg the culprit, despite Tey’s attempts at subterfuge. The improbable elements begin with what Miss Pym, a “feeble waverer,” does with an important bit of evidence, and also the too-convenient testimony of a couple of nearby residents at the inquest.

Overall, I liked this less well than The Franchise Affair and found it to have some of the problems I noted in the first two Inspector Grant books (racism, convenient plot developments). It was, however, written earlier, so I remain optimistic. I’ve now read four of Tey’s eight mysteries, and still plan to complete the lot.

Filed Under: Books, Mystery Tagged With:

Parable of the Talents by Octavia E. Butler: A-

January 26, 2009 by Leave a Comment

From the back cover:
Lauren Olamina’s love is divided among her young daughter, her community, and the revelation that led Lauren to found a new faith that teaches “God is Change.” But in the wake of environmental and economic chaos, the U.S. government turns a blind eye to violent bigots who consider the mere existence of a black female leader a threat. And soon Lauren must either sacrifice her child and her followers—or forsake the religion that can transform human destiny.

Review:
Parable of the Talents picks up five years after the end of Parable of the Sower. Lauren has successfully established an Earthseed community named Acorn, home to about sixty people. They’re self-sufficient and doing well until a well-organized group of crusading Christians arrives to wipe out their heathen ways. Acorn gets turned into Camp Christian, its members enslaved, and its children (including Lauren’s newborn daughter) “rescued” and given to Christian families. The rest of the novel chronicles Lauren’s attempts to find her daughter while trying to ensure that Earthseed succeeds.

The story is told in excerpts from Lauren’s journals, as well from writings of her husband and brother. These selections were chosen by Lauren’s now-adult daughter, who introduces each segment while gradually providing more information about her own life. The daughter finds a lot of fault in Lauren’s actions, especially Lauren’s refusal to heed her husband’s request that they move and raise their child in a more established community. Feeling like she always came second to Earthseed, the daughter is resentful.

I love that we get not only Lauren’s first person explanation of her actions and motivations but also a dissenting voice, critical of the protagonist’s flaws and failings. There’s a great line where the daughter says that if her mother had created Acorn, peaceful haven for the homeless and desperate, but not Earthseed, she would’ve been able to find her a wholly admirable person. I’ve not seen this kind of framework before—protagonist’s story interspersed with unstinting criticism of protagonist. It’s interesting and I admire it a lot.

There are a few things that bug me a little, though. The cultish creepiness of Earthseed is more apparent, now, with established rituals, ceremonies, and hymns, but this is balanced by the daughter’s obvious disdain for the movement. Also, it seems that every Christian man (and practically every man, period) is a hypocrite, molester, or sadist. The ending is also rather rushed, but nonetheless ends on a very satisfying note.

Dark, grim, and fascinating, this duology has been a very good read. I recommend it.

Filed Under: Books, Sci-Fi Tagged With:

The Franchise Affair by Josephine Tey: A-

January 19, 2009 by 1 Comment

Book description
The Franchise Affair resembles some of the best work of Poe in its introduction of an apparently inhuman evil in an otherwise sedate country setting. Robert Blair, a lawyer who prides himself on his ability to avoid work of any significance, is interrupted one evening by a phone call from Marion Sharpe. Ms. Sharpe and her mother live in a run-down estate known as the Franchise, and their lives drew little attention until Betty Kane charged them with an unthinkable crime. Ms. Kane, having disappeared for a month, now says that she was held captive in the attic of the Franchise during her entire absence.

While her story seems absurd, her recollection of minute details about the interior of the house sway even Scotland Yard. Blair—chosen by Ms. Sharpe for her defense because, as she says, he is “someone of my own sort”—must dust off his neurons and undertake some serious sleuthing if his client is to beat these serious charges. As with all fine mysteries, one has the sense of being in a sea of clues with a solution just out of reach.

Review:
After reading the first two Inspector Grant mysteries, I had trouble believing that the same author could produce The Daughter of Time, which I’ve heard referred to as a classic of the mystery genre. I am happy to say that The Franchise Affair has cured me of my doubts. While not perfect, it is still so much better than its predecessors that I am heartened.

Told from the point of view of humble country lawyer Robert Blair, The Franchise Affair is unusual in a couple of ways. For one, the crime in question is not murder. An innocent-looking schoolgirl accuses a couple of solitary women of holding her captive, and it’s up to Blair to investigate and help mount a defense. Also, Inspector Grant barely appears. As the book is at least nominally classed as an entry in the Inspector Grant series, I find it a bit odd that the one I like best so far features the title detective so little.

The Franchise Affair is full of likable characters. Blair has grown tired of his quiet, easy life, and is unexpectedly stimulated by the Sharpes’ case. He also grows very much to like the younger Miss Sharpe, an independent, warm, and witty woman. I am kind of a sucker for middle-aged romance, so I enjoyed how he went from thinking of her as Miss Sharpe, to Marion, and then to how he would do this or that once he had married her. Especially great are all of the qualities he likes her for, and that she isn’t forced to compromise on those qualities in the end. She also has a fun, feisty mother who proves a dab hand at giving betting tips for horse racing.

I also like the writing style. At times, it feels surprisingly modern for something written in 1948. It’s full of amusing turns of phrase and a gently ironic tone. I snickered several times, the first occasion being the third sentence, which was a good sign.

The end is not quite as good as the rest, as some improbable and very dramatic events occur. The way the trial plays out also seems a bit… unorthodox to me. It was around this point where I began to be reminded of watching an old movie, so I was compelled to look it up and, sure enough, this novel was made into a movie in 1951. Interesting factoid for Doctor Who fans: one of the workers at the garage where Blair keeps his car was played by Patrick Troughton.

On the whole, I found The Franchise Affair to be charming and enjoyable. Because of its nature, it would work quite well as a stand-alone, but has also restored my hopes for the quality of the others in the series.

Filed Under: Books, Mystery Tagged With:
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