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Small Change #3
Half a Crown
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 and 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.
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 and 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.
320 pages, Hardcover
First published September 30, 2008
30 people are currently reading
1150 people want to read
About the author
Jo Walton
91 books3,037 followersJo Walton writes science fiction and fantasy novels and reads a lot and eats great food. It worries her slightly that this is so exactly what she always wanted to do when she grew up. She comes from Wales, but lives in Montreal.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 353 reviews
August 20, 2015
Description: 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.
Opening: A week before she was due to bring me out, I overheard Mrs Maynard saying I was "not quite..." That's how she said it. "Elvira's not quite..."
Everything has to go onto hold whilst I delve into this - my better half is scooting through book two and can't have him read this before I do because ... well, just because.
:O)
At the end: an exciting last book in the trilogy. Each of the three books had flaws yet the overall effect was pleasurable.
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.
Opening: A week before she was due to bring me out, I overheard Mrs Maynard saying I was "not quite..." That's how she said it. "Elvira's not quite..."
:O)
At the end: an exciting last book in the trilogy. Each of the three books had flaws yet the overall effect was pleasurable.
November 3, 2021
Spoilers below
What a disappointment! I raced through Farthing and Ha'penny and loved them for the nuanced characters and politics so it's hard to see this final part of the trilogy crash and burn so swiftly. It's now 1960 with Britain's slide into fascism complete: Carmichael is now head of the Watch, the British version supposedly of the Gestapo; there is talk of a concentration camp on British soil (as opposed to sending all 'our' 'undesirables' to Europe where they can be dealt with); Bolshevik Russia has been atom bombed into submission; the US has retreated into total isolationism, and a 'peace' conference is about to take place in London where the Third Reich, Imperial Japan and plucky little Britain will divide up the world amongst themselves. And while Elizabeth II is on the throne, the exiled Edward VIII with Mrs Simpson in tow is plotting a takeover coup, while the fascist factions fight amongst themselves on the streets of London. Yet somehow into this scenario, the book turns twee and naive...
In the first two books, one of the things I liked was the refusal to have heroes and black-hearted villains - characters were compromised, struggling. People we liked would suddenly mouth casual anti-Semitic sentiments, and fear as well as self-interest forced 'good' people to betray their own consciences. In this book that subtlety has been lost: Carmichael might be head of the British Gestapo but he's also leader of a clandestine operation to smuggle Jews out of Britain, with a Jewish second-in-command. When someone who is also a member of a separate resistance organisation meets him for the first time, within minutes they've both revealed their anti-fascist activities to each other and agreed to join operations.
On top of that, Elvira just isn't an interesting narrator in the way that Lucy and Viola were: she's 18 and naive and irritating, and the constant harping on how she's a Cinderella got wearying very fast. The drive and suspense of the first two books is also missing here: the murder mystery and thriller mash up that worked so well has no replacement and this is far more akin to YA dystopia where a teenager quite unaccountably saves the world.
Which gets me to the absolutely preposterous ending: Elvira is a debutante and on meeting the queen, she tells Elizabeth II how much she hates fascism... and the queen says right then, I'll jolly well stop it, by calling a general election immediately - and... ta da!... twenty years of British fascism is over in the blink of an eye! British common sense and decent values reassert themselves overnight! The British monarchy single-handedly defeats fascism! Sheesh! (No mention of how a non-fascist Britain will survive in a world divided up between the Third Reich and Imperial Japan - and did we really need that little joke about how the Japanese coming over for the peace conference wanted to go sightseeing and visit Stonehenge?)
Ok, I get that Walton is a self-declared optimist with a faith in British decency - but this is a travesty of an ending to two rivetting predecessors - read those for sure, but I'd skip this one.
What a disappointment! I raced through Farthing and Ha'penny and loved them for the nuanced characters and politics so it's hard to see this final part of the trilogy crash and burn so swiftly. It's now 1960 with Britain's slide into fascism complete: Carmichael is now head of the Watch, the British version supposedly of the Gestapo; there is talk of a concentration camp on British soil (as opposed to sending all 'our' 'undesirables' to Europe where they can be dealt with); Bolshevik Russia has been atom bombed into submission; the US has retreated into total isolationism, and a 'peace' conference is about to take place in London where the Third Reich, Imperial Japan and plucky little Britain will divide up the world amongst themselves. And while Elizabeth II is on the throne, the exiled Edward VIII with Mrs Simpson in tow is plotting a takeover coup, while the fascist factions fight amongst themselves on the streets of London. Yet somehow into this scenario, the book turns twee and naive...
In the first two books, one of the things I liked was the refusal to have heroes and black-hearted villains - characters were compromised, struggling. People we liked would suddenly mouth casual anti-Semitic sentiments, and fear as well as self-interest forced 'good' people to betray their own consciences. In this book that subtlety has been lost: Carmichael might be head of the British Gestapo but he's also leader of a clandestine operation to smuggle Jews out of Britain, with a Jewish second-in-command. When someone who is also a member of a separate resistance organisation meets him for the first time, within minutes they've both revealed their anti-fascist activities to each other and agreed to join operations.
On top of that, Elvira just isn't an interesting narrator in the way that Lucy and Viola were: she's 18 and naive and irritating, and the constant harping on how she's a Cinderella got wearying very fast. The drive and suspense of the first two books is also missing here: the murder mystery and thriller mash up that worked so well has no replacement and this is far more akin to YA dystopia where a teenager quite unaccountably saves the world.
Which gets me to the absolutely preposterous ending: Elvira is a debutante and on meeting the queen, she tells Elizabeth II how much she hates fascism... and the queen says right then, I'll jolly well stop it, by calling a general election immediately - and... ta da!... twenty years of British fascism is over in the blink of an eye! British common sense and decent values reassert themselves overnight! The British monarchy single-handedly defeats fascism! Sheesh! (No mention of how a non-fascist Britain will survive in a world divided up between the Third Reich and Imperial Japan - and did we really need that little joke about how the Japanese coming over for the peace conference wanted to go sightseeing and visit Stonehenge?)
Ok, I get that Walton is a self-declared optimist with a faith in British decency - but this is a travesty of an ending to two rivetting predecessors - read those for sure, but I'd skip this one.
October 21, 2011
The final instalment in a trilogy, the earlier books of which are Farthing and Ha'penny, I could not put this book down once I reached the half-way mark. It took all my resolution not to peak at the last page. I was kept guessing about what would happen - heart in mouth - until the end.
The setting is London in 1960, some ten years on from the events of Ha'penny. A fascist government is in power and Jews are deported to camps on the Continent. Germany and Japan have won the war and Russia has been essentially destroyed. The central character of the previous novels, police officer Peter Carmichael, is now in charge of the Watch, a Gestapo-type security organisation. The first signs of dissatisfaction with the regime are starting to manifest themselves in public demonstrations.
In structure, the novel follows the earlier books in the trilogy. There are alternating chapters of first and third person narratives. In this novel, the first person narrator is 18 year old Elvira, Carmichael's ward. She has grown up under fascism and, unlike the first person narrators of Farthing and Ha'penny, she knows nothing of any other system. So Elvira, a debutante on the verge of being presented to the Queen and going to Oxford University, accepts all she has been told about Jews and homosexuals and has no interest in politics, other than to suppose that attending a political rally where Jews are taunted might be a bit of fun.
The third person narrative again concerns Carmichael, as he navigates through the requirements of his position and the demands of his conscience. Carmichael is a wonderful character: intelligent, insightful and flawed.
In part, the novel is Elvira's coming of age story, as she gradually reaches an understanding of the world in which lives. This is a world which Walton has created in a way that is completely and horrifyingly believable. Much of this is achieved in the tangential revelations which pepper the narrative. For example, the reader learns - almost in passing - that this is a world in which Moscow and Miami have been destroyed by nuclear bombs. It is also a world in which, as Elvira's matter of fact narrative reveals, only male heads of families are allowed to have a key to the front door of their homes.
The novel is not only about Elvira, though. Carmichael's internal struggle and external dilemmas are equally compelling, as is the political intrigue which forms the basis of the plot.
This was an amazing book and the climax of an amazing series. The world Jo Walton created and the characters which populate it will stay with me for a long time. Highly, highly recommended.
The setting is London in 1960, some ten years on from the events of Ha'penny. A fascist government is in power and Jews are deported to camps on the Continent. Germany and Japan have won the war and Russia has been essentially destroyed. The central character of the previous novels, police officer Peter Carmichael, is now in charge of the Watch, a Gestapo-type security organisation. The first signs of dissatisfaction with the regime are starting to manifest themselves in public demonstrations.
In structure, the novel follows the earlier books in the trilogy. There are alternating chapters of first and third person narratives. In this novel, the first person narrator is 18 year old Elvira, Carmichael's ward. She has grown up under fascism and, unlike the first person narrators of Farthing and Ha'penny, she knows nothing of any other system. So Elvira, a debutante on the verge of being presented to the Queen and going to Oxford University, accepts all she has been told about Jews and homosexuals and has no interest in politics, other than to suppose that attending a political rally where Jews are taunted might be a bit of fun.
The third person narrative again concerns Carmichael, as he navigates through the requirements of his position and the demands of his conscience. Carmichael is a wonderful character: intelligent, insightful and flawed.
In part, the novel is Elvira's coming of age story, as she gradually reaches an understanding of the world in which lives. This is a world which Walton has created in a way that is completely and horrifyingly believable. Much of this is achieved in the tangential revelations which pepper the narrative. For example, the reader learns - almost in passing - that this is a world in which Moscow and Miami have been destroyed by nuclear bombs. It is also a world in which, as Elvira's matter of fact narrative reveals, only male heads of families are allowed to have a key to the front door of their homes.
The novel is not only about Elvira, though. Carmichael's internal struggle and external dilemmas are equally compelling, as is the political intrigue which forms the basis of the plot.
This was an amazing book and the climax of an amazing series. The world Jo Walton created and the characters which populate it will stay with me for a long time. Highly, highly recommended.
July 24, 2021
Jo Walton, the author of this book, is classified as a sci-fi and fantasy writer. She was the 2004 winner of the World Fantasy Award. Most of her books seem to involve faeries,dragons, and the like, but this, the final installment of the "Small Change Trilogy", has been a departure from her recognized genre. Different libraries and book reviews seem to have varying identities for them, from science fiction, to fantasy, and even historical fiction. To simplify, I would classify each as a "nightmare", or what if?...
Walton has taken this "what if?.." premise to its fullest potential in her creation of a society which is in the grips of fascism. In her first book,Farthing, she had spelled out how in 1941, there was a rapprochement between Britain and Nazi Germany. This final installment recounts life in 1960, where people continued their existence as before the pact, especially the elite. Jews and other "undesirables" were rounded up and transported to Germany to cattle cars, then to concentration camps. Many lived in fear and in hiding. Chilling accounts are spelled out, where victims were abused and captured without apparent conscience by their captors or assailants.
The main character, Inspector Carmichael, appeared the most realistic to me. His emotional status and his actions were tangible throughout. He is caught in the bind of being the commander of the secret police where he must arrest plotters and detect the presence of Jews. His life is endangered as he seeks to protect and provide safety for those he must arrest.
Carmichael's ward, Elvira, initially and occasionally seemed to be a simple young lady. Walton has managed to add spice to this character with perilous and tumultuous events. I did not find her final role in this story to be a thoroughly convincing scene.
The novel leaves many issues unresolved. A glaring question is why did the citizens accept this mode of living? Why was there so little resistance? The conclusion of this book seemed to be hasty and improbable, with much left unsaid- especially for the ending of a trilogy.
Rating this book has been somewhat difficult. I had initially chosen 4 stars because I credit Walton for her clear, well-conceived themes and writing, but I would prefer a 3.5. Although I enjoyed it, I do not feel that this was the best book of the series. It is best to read these in order to gain the most enjoyment.
ADDENDUM
Much has been written in fiction about Britain's role in anti-semitic actions. Most notably, perhaps is Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice, in which Shylock, a Jewish moneylender, is tormented and denied many human rights. The Boston Sunday Globe , (3/27/11) reviews the performance of this play, with a history of this era when it was written. They point out how Jews in the 13th century were ousted from England. Many were forced to live in the ghetto in Venice, where they continued to exist when Shakespeare wrote his play. Walton's book clearly expounds on what can occur in such an oppressive society.
As previously mentioned in my review of Farthing, a recent non-fiction book addresses England's role in the expulsion of the Jewish populace,
with great clarity. While considering this issue in view of the weight of the problem , I feel Walton's treatment of a fascisistic society was sensitively done.
Walton has taken this "what if?.." premise to its fullest potential in her creation of a society which is in the grips of fascism. In her first book,Farthing, she had spelled out how in 1941, there was a rapprochement between Britain and Nazi Germany. This final installment recounts life in 1960, where people continued their existence as before the pact, especially the elite. Jews and other "undesirables" were rounded up and transported to Germany to cattle cars, then to concentration camps. Many lived in fear and in hiding. Chilling accounts are spelled out, where victims were abused and captured without apparent conscience by their captors or assailants.
The main character, Inspector Carmichael, appeared the most realistic to me. His emotional status and his actions were tangible throughout. He is caught in the bind of being the commander of the secret police where he must arrest plotters and detect the presence of Jews. His life is endangered as he seeks to protect and provide safety for those he must arrest.
Carmichael's ward, Elvira, initially and occasionally seemed to be a simple young lady. Walton has managed to add spice to this character with perilous and tumultuous events. I did not find her final role in this story to be a thoroughly convincing scene.
The novel leaves many issues unresolved. A glaring question is why did the citizens accept this mode of living? Why was there so little resistance? The conclusion of this book seemed to be hasty and improbable, with much left unsaid- especially for the ending of a trilogy.
Rating this book has been somewhat difficult. I had initially chosen 4 stars because I credit Walton for her clear, well-conceived themes and writing, but I would prefer a 3.5. Although I enjoyed it, I do not feel that this was the best book of the series. It is best to read these in order to gain the most enjoyment.
ADDENDUM
Much has been written in fiction about Britain's role in anti-semitic actions. Most notably, perhaps is Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice, in which Shylock, a Jewish moneylender, is tormented and denied many human rights. The Boston Sunday Globe , (3/27/11) reviews the performance of this play, with a history of this era when it was written. They point out how Jews in the 13th century were ousted from England. Many were forced to live in the ghetto in Venice, where they continued to exist when Shakespeare wrote his play. Walton's book clearly expounds on what can occur in such an oppressive society.
As previously mentioned in my review of Farthing, a recent non-fiction book addresses England's role in the expulsion of the Jewish populace,
December 9, 2019
Well, here's a series that will wring you out. I'd say that it's eerily prescient, right down to the Queen saying how Britons can't be proud of sending dissidents and Jews to Continental concentration camps but Tibs Cheriton says happily that it was Britain who invented the camps during the Boer War, but I think that the point is that it's not prescient at all, that fascism takes hold and flourishes the same way every time. I was ready to shake my fist at the dissatisfying deus ex machina of the ending, which I'll gripe about under the cut, but the more I think about it, the more I think she got it right in the same prophetic way. As a whole, this should be required reading for anyone who still thinks we need to argue over whether nazis are really that bad or if white supremacy is present only in startling acts of violence and not the bedrock value system that our country was built on.
"Viola Larkin supposedly asked a man to dance once, a generation ago, and look what happened to her." Just as a last little aside, one thing I really enjoyed about this series is how Walton casually references characters in the books that came before it. If you were waiting with bated breath to see what would happen to the dowager Lady Thirkie after the end of Farthing, you know soon enough in the second book without being told except obliquely. Predictive and well-written, and good for you too, Mollie Gaston.
"Viola Larkin supposedly asked a man to dance once, a generation ago, and look what happened to her." Just as a last little aside, one thing I really enjoyed about this series is how Walton casually references characters in the books that came before it. If you were waiting with bated breath to see what would happen to the dowager Lady Thirkie after the end of Farthing, you know soon enough in the second book without being told except obliquely. Predictive and well-written, and good for you too, Mollie Gaston.
March 4, 2024
I found this a very satisfying conclusion to the Small Change trilogy (earlier books Farthing and Ha'penny), set in an alternate timeline wherein England made peace with Hitler and slid slowly into fascism itself. Now it's 1960, and former Inspector Carmichael is now the head of the Gestapo-like Watch (after having been blackmailed into compliance), while his ward Elvira Royston prepares to make her debut with the traditional presentation to the Queen.
Some have called the book's ending unduly optimistic, but I thought it worked very well. Yes, it's hopeful, but the hope only comes about after much grief and loss suffered by the characters, so it feels believable and earned. Plus, I really liked the unexpected way Walton chose to carry out the ending.
Some have called the book's ending unduly optimistic, but I thought it worked very well. Yes, it's hopeful, but the hope only comes about after much grief and loss suffered by the characters, so it feels believable and earned. Plus, I really liked the unexpected way Walton chose to carry out the ending.
March 1, 2016
Dostojan završetak izvrsne trilogije. napeto do samog kraja, i tek je možda kraj malo zbrzan i ima elemente 'deus ex machina'. Stječe se dojam da romanu nedostaje cijelo jedno poglavlje. No stil pisanja Jo Walton je tako slikovit, tako uvjerljiv, tako živ, da sam odlučio da ipak neću spuštati ocjenu zbog te sitnice na kraju. dakle 4.5 zaokruženo na 5.
May 28, 2013
This is the conclusion of the Farthing trilogy, which takes place in an alternate timeline where England made peace with Hitler, whose Reich continues to rule the Continent. This book is set around 1960, more than 10 years after the events in the first two books.
Former police Inspector Carmichael has been forced into a hideous job as head of an English Gestapo; despite this he manages to secretly defy the increasingly Fascist government. I like Carmichael’s character, and I wish his relationship with his partner had been fleshed out more.
We have another young woman as the first-person POV protagonist. She’s an outsider mingling with the aristocracy and largely unconcerned about the erosion of civil rights until it directly affects her.
I’m not quite sure how I feel about this book, or this trilogy. On one hand, the narrative is absorbing: I read them all cover to cover and was never bored. But on the other hand, I found them vaguely unsatisfying and unconvincing, not to mention depressing - although this last book provides a light at the end of the tunnel as .
Former police Inspector Carmichael has been forced into a hideous job as head of an English Gestapo; despite this he manages to secretly defy the increasingly Fascist government. I like Carmichael’s character, and I wish his relationship with his partner had been fleshed out more.
We have another young woman as the first-person POV protagonist. She’s an outsider mingling with the aristocracy and largely unconcerned about the erosion of civil rights until it directly affects her.
I’m not quite sure how I feel about this book, or this trilogy. On one hand, the narrative is absorbing: I read them all cover to cover and was never bored. But on the other hand, I found them vaguely unsatisfying and unconvincing, not to mention depressing - although this last book provides a light at the end of the tunnel as .
March 27, 2018
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 all-caps sentences. Not 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. (See what I mean about the caps...?) 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.
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. (See what I mean about the caps...?) 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.
December 20, 2018
Last part of the Small Change Trilogy, I was really looking forward to read this. After narrating the chilling descent of Britain into fascism through murder and political intricacies in 'Farthing', and shown how tortured and morally torn apart people can be under such regimes (putting their own personal ethic to the test) in 'Ha'Penny', Jo Walton's alternate history seemed indeed to get better and better book after book, and I couldn't wait to see how it would all end.
Now at the head of The Watch, the British equivalent of the Gestapo, her inspector Carmichael still battles with his own dilemma. His 'niece', a naïve young debutante who grew up under the regime -and so knows no better- finding herself being the pawn of cynical plots made for a promising character to appear on the scene. A peace conference due to take place in London and involving not only the PM but, an ageing Hitler and the Duke of Windsor, with divided fascist factions plotting against each other as background subplot, made for another exciting political intrigue, pushing the main plot forward... In a word, this 'Half A Crown' seemed really good and full of promises! Given it's the last of the trilogy I, for one, again was in any case really curious to see where it would all lead. Sadly, it crashes down really badly.
I don't want to go into details, because I don't want to be a spoiler. Let me just say that, the personalities of Jo Walton's cast here are not as deep as in the previous volumes -too many naïve do-goodies and unidimensional characters. Complex political events miraculously unfold so simply it's annoyingly unconvincing. Worst, the end is so simplistic, flimsy and abrupt (really?! That simple?!) that it left me very disappointed. On its own, 'Half A Crown' is therefore, well, quite bad.
Having said that, I still very much enjoyed this Small Change Trilogy. The two first books are smart, convincing and riveting; I cannot but recommend anyone into alternate history (especially what-if Hitler had won WWII type of scenario) to dig them up. I just think it a pity that this last part doesn't live up to the promises of 'Farthing' and 'Ha'Penny'. Here's a disappointing ending to an otherwise thrilling trilogy.
Now at the head of The Watch, the British equivalent of the Gestapo, her inspector Carmichael still battles with his own dilemma. His 'niece', a naïve young debutante who grew up under the regime -and so knows no better- finding herself being the pawn of cynical plots made for a promising character to appear on the scene. A peace conference due to take place in London and involving not only the PM but, an ageing Hitler and the Duke of Windsor, with divided fascist factions plotting against each other as background subplot, made for another exciting political intrigue, pushing the main plot forward... In a word, this 'Half A Crown' seemed really good and full of promises! Given it's the last of the trilogy I, for one, again was in any case really curious to see where it would all lead. Sadly, it crashes down really badly.
I don't want to go into details, because I don't want to be a spoiler. Let me just say that, the personalities of Jo Walton's cast here are not as deep as in the previous volumes -too many naïve do-goodies and unidimensional characters. Complex political events miraculously unfold so simply it's annoyingly unconvincing. Worst, the end is so simplistic, flimsy and abrupt (really?! That simple?!) that it left me very disappointed. On its own, 'Half A Crown' is therefore, well, quite bad.
Having said that, I still very much enjoyed this Small Change Trilogy. The two first books are smart, convincing and riveting; I cannot but recommend anyone into alternate history (especially what-if Hitler had won WWII type of scenario) to dig them up. I just think it a pity that this last part doesn't live up to the promises of 'Farthing' and 'Ha'Penny'. Here's a disappointing ending to an otherwise thrilling trilogy.
August 17, 2010
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 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.
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.
June 17, 2010
After devouring the first two books, I told myself I was going to wait before reading this one. Then I went to the library to pick something else up, and found myself drawn to the shelf. In my defense I can say that it's refreshing to be able to read a series start to finish without having to wait for the end (I'm looking at you, Connie Willis).
I guess if the first book was modeled on a British parlor mystery, and the second one was a thriller, this one is a bit of a comedy of manners, though a little light on comedy.
It followed the same format as the previous two books, though it is set about a decade later. As such, it allows the reader to see the results of the new laws and societal changes enacted in the first two books. Although the novelty of the premise has worn off, it is no less powerful and scary. I haven't yet decided if I fully approve of the ending, but if it wasn't perfect, it certainly wasn't unsatisfying. The series as a whole is a well crafted examination of uses and abuses of power, personal responsibility, and prejudice; though set in an alternate mid-century England it also has some eerie parallels to modern day.
I guess if the first book was modeled on a British parlor mystery, and the second one was a thriller, this one is a bit of a comedy of manners, though a little light on comedy.
It followed the same format as the previous two books, though it is set about a decade later. As such, it allows the reader to see the results of the new laws and societal changes enacted in the first two books. Although the novelty of the premise has worn off, it is no less powerful and scary. I haven't yet decided if I fully approve of the ending, but if it wasn't perfect, it certainly wasn't unsatisfying. The series as a whole is a well crafted examination of uses and abuses of power, personal responsibility, and prejudice; though set in an alternate mid-century England it also has some eerie parallels to modern day.
January 1, 2016
The finale to Jo Walton’s Small Change trilogy effectively ratchets up the menace of this fascist England, even if several of its plot devices are not particularly plausible when the reader steps back from the story. This was a page-turner, and I was engrossed while reading it. Half a Crown—even more than Ha’penny—made me think that this trilogy is less concerned with depicting a convincing fascist England than it is with exploring how easy it is for ordinary people, with little at stake, to acquiesce to oppression and cruelty.
Elvira, the female protagonist, is not as shallow as some critics have suggested; she looks forward to studying at Oxford and living an independent life, but she is a 19-year-old who was born either right before or after the Farthing peace that ceded the Continent to Hitler and set England on the increasingly rightward, fascist path that leads to Half a Crown. So her life has been spent in a country increasingly hostile to Jews and homosexuals, one which views them as less than human. And her late father and the man she calls uncle were/are both part of law enforcement for an increasingly authoritarian state. It’s not surprising that she is not disturbed by her fellow Britons publicly humiliating Jews or is appalled by her uncle Carmichael’s homosexuality. It’s also not surprising that she learns to fear the state because of how it has treated her, an “innocent,” and not for how it’s treated oppressed minorities or restricted civil rights for lower classes. This is, I think, a pretty realistic take on how many people—particularly immature people—understand injustice and end up taking stands.
But it does point out that almost all of the viewpoints into the Small Change universe are from people who are not obvious targets of oppression. Although Carmichael’s orientation marginalizes him, there’s little in the novels—other than casual homophobic remarks—to suggest that homosexuals, as a class, are threatened. In fact, many of the Farthing set are themselves bi- or gay, and they occupy high-ranking positions in the fascist government. We hear very little from Jews or communists, the other key targets of the government. This is both a strength and a weakness. It’s a weakness because it marginalizes these groups even further; they’re not really important enough for us to hear from them. But it’s a strength if Walton’s focus is what I think it is—the depiction of Normanby’s “willing executioners.”
I thought a major failing of this book was the impact of Carmichael’s relationship with Jack. Jack is mentioned, but never seen, in Farthing, we learn more about him in Ha’penny, and he shows up again here. When we see him, he is frequently complaining about the fact that they don’t go out in public, and that weakens his character because Jack comes off as petulant and stupid—it’s a fascist government that supposedly targets gays; of course the in-the-closet Scotland Yard detective/leader of the secret police can’t go out to the theater and restaurants with his male lover. Jack has his moments of compassion, particularly at the end of Ha’penny, and there are moments in Half a Crown where Jack in the background illustrates how barren and frustrating an existence he leads (as he plays servant and serves tea to the girl he encouraged Carmichael to essentially adopt in the previous book). So the developments in this book should be powerful, but Walton never (for me) convincingly established Carmichael’s attachment to Jack. Yes, he frequently thinks that he loves him, but you don’t see much of their relationship. So, as the climax approaches, Carmichael’s decisions regarding Jack and Elvira aren’t particularly convincing because Walton has repeatedly shown how much Carmichael cares about Elvira but, over the course of three books, has never effectively demonstrated similar (or greater) devotion to Jack.
Like other reviewers, I found the conclusion to be a deus ex machina. Walton does such an effective job portraying the oppression and horror of fascist Britain that it makes no sense that things could wrap up as neatly as they do. To be sure, the world climate is still quite grim. Almost 20 years of Nazi domination of the Continent must have resulted in the genocide of European Jewry, Romani, Slavs, or anyone else “inferior” (in fact, it’s bizarre to think that anyone could have survived long enough to be in a labor or death camp in 1960). And it’s by no means certain that the “new” Britain will restore full civil rights to Jews and other marginalized people. But it is incredible to think that the political resolution would come about as Hitler and the Japanese emperor’s son are in London for a “peace” conference that will divvy up much of the world.
I realize that this review must make it seem as if I hated Half a Crown; I certainly did not. I enjoyed it as I was reading it, and I think Walton created a frightening fictional reality that works in the moment. It just doesn’t bear much reflection afterwards.
Elvira, the female protagonist, is not as shallow as some critics have suggested; she looks forward to studying at Oxford and living an independent life, but she is a 19-year-old who was born either right before or after the Farthing peace that ceded the Continent to Hitler and set England on the increasingly rightward, fascist path that leads to Half a Crown. So her life has been spent in a country increasingly hostile to Jews and homosexuals, one which views them as less than human. And her late father and the man she calls uncle were/are both part of law enforcement for an increasingly authoritarian state. It’s not surprising that she is not disturbed by her fellow Britons publicly humiliating Jews or is appalled by her uncle Carmichael’s homosexuality. It’s also not surprising that she learns to fear the state because of how it has treated her, an “innocent,” and not for how it’s treated oppressed minorities or restricted civil rights for lower classes. This is, I think, a pretty realistic take on how many people—particularly immature people—understand injustice and end up taking stands.
But it does point out that almost all of the viewpoints into the Small Change universe are from people who are not obvious targets of oppression. Although Carmichael’s orientation marginalizes him, there’s little in the novels—other than casual homophobic remarks—to suggest that homosexuals, as a class, are threatened. In fact, many of the Farthing set are themselves bi- or gay, and they occupy high-ranking positions in the fascist government. We hear very little from Jews or communists, the other key targets of the government. This is both a strength and a weakness. It’s a weakness because it marginalizes these groups even further; they’re not really important enough for us to hear from them. But it’s a strength if Walton’s focus is what I think it is—the depiction of Normanby’s “willing executioners.”
I thought a major failing of this book was the impact of Carmichael’s relationship with Jack. Jack is mentioned, but never seen, in Farthing, we learn more about him in Ha’penny, and he shows up again here. When we see him, he is frequently complaining about the fact that they don’t go out in public, and that weakens his character because Jack comes off as petulant and stupid—it’s a fascist government that supposedly targets gays; of course the in-the-closet Scotland Yard detective/leader of the secret police can’t go out to the theater and restaurants with his male lover. Jack has his moments of compassion, particularly at the end of Ha’penny, and there are moments in Half a Crown where Jack in the background illustrates how barren and frustrating an existence he leads (as he plays servant and serves tea to the girl he encouraged Carmichael to essentially adopt in the previous book). So the developments in this book should be powerful, but Walton never (for me) convincingly established Carmichael’s attachment to Jack. Yes, he frequently thinks that he loves him, but you don’t see much of their relationship. So, as the climax approaches, Carmichael’s decisions regarding Jack and Elvira aren’t particularly convincing because Walton has repeatedly shown how much Carmichael cares about Elvira but, over the course of three books, has never effectively demonstrated similar (or greater) devotion to Jack.
Like other reviewers, I found the conclusion to be a deus ex machina. Walton does such an effective job portraying the oppression and horror of fascist Britain that it makes no sense that things could wrap up as neatly as they do. To be sure, the world climate is still quite grim. Almost 20 years of Nazi domination of the Continent must have resulted in the genocide of European Jewry, Romani, Slavs, or anyone else “inferior” (in fact, it’s bizarre to think that anyone could have survived long enough to be in a labor or death camp in 1960). And it’s by no means certain that the “new” Britain will restore full civil rights to Jews and other marginalized people. But it is incredible to think that the political resolution would come about as Hitler and the Japanese emperor’s son are in London for a “peace” conference that will divvy up much of the world.
I realize that this review must make it seem as if I hated Half a Crown; I certainly did not. I enjoyed it as I was reading it, and I think Walton created a frightening fictional reality that works in the moment. It just doesn’t bear much reflection afterwards.
April 6, 2018
Entrenched...
Half a Crown, the conclusion of Jo Walton's amazing Small Change trilogy, picks up the threads of Walton's alternative history in 1960, a full decade after the tumultuous events of Farthing and Ha'penny. During those years, everything that was already going wrong—ever since the Farthing Set's "Peace with Honour" bought Britain nominal independence in exchange for the Third Reich's ascendancy in Europe—has only become more and more entrenched.
What better time for a party? Or a peace convention, anyway... which amounts to the same thing. London is hosting, and representatives from all of the major world powers will be there—from Hitler himself to the Japanese. Even the Americans, despite their domestic troubles (turns out isolationism is bad for business—who knew?) will be sending a couple of emissaries, though their place will not be at the head of the table.
It's going to be a security nightmare, of course, but Watch Commander Carmichael is up to the task. If only it weren't for the Duke of Windsor, long exiled but now returning as a more-or-less invited guest, styling himself King Edward VIII, and savaging Prime Minister Normanby for being too soft...
As in the first two volumes of Small Change, Walton chooses a young woman with no particular political ambitions as her protagonist. This has been an inspired way both to unify the series and to allow what Walton herself likes to call incluing —the sort of exposition that doesn't feel like just dumping information.
Eighteen-year-old Elvira is on the verge of "coming out" (as a debutante, that is—the more recent meaning of the phrase is not within Elvira's experience). Along with her best friend Betsy Maynard, she's going to be presented to the Queen, in a time-honored ceremony. She has no thoughts to spare for politics. When Elvira and Betsy are invited to a fascist rally by a minor baronet with his eye on Betsy's connections and money, Elvira goes along happily—she thinks it'll be fun.
Unfortunately, a charismatic young man from Liverpool gets up to sing about British Power, and turns the rally into a riot...
I could not stop reading Half a Crown—I just had to find out how it all ended. And Walton does end her tale, the only way it could have ended, really—with a conclusion both miraculous and fitting.
I have no idea why it took me so long to get back to the Small Change books, after I read the first two and loved them in 2008. Together—and they should be read together—these three novels make up a thrilling, chilling tale, the sort of thing that could never, no not ever, never happen here... so let us hope.
Half a Crown, the conclusion of Jo Walton's amazing Small Change trilogy, picks up the threads of Walton's alternative history in 1960, a full decade after the tumultuous events of Farthing and Ha'penny. During those years, everything that was already going wrong—ever since the Farthing Set's "Peace with Honour" bought Britain nominal independence in exchange for the Third Reich's ascendancy in Europe—has only become more and more entrenched.
What better time for a party? Or a peace convention, anyway... which amounts to the same thing. London is hosting, and representatives from all of the major world powers will be there—from Hitler himself to the Japanese. Even the Americans, despite their domestic troubles (turns out isolationism is bad for business—who knew?) will be sending a couple of emissaries, though their place will not be at the head of the table.
It's going to be a security nightmare, of course, but Watch Commander Carmichael is up to the task. If only it weren't for the Duke of Windsor, long exiled but now returning as a more-or-less invited guest, styling himself King Edward VIII, and savaging Prime Minister Normanby for being too soft...
As in the first two volumes of Small Change, Walton chooses a young woman with no particular political ambitions as her protagonist. This has been an inspired way both to unify the series and to allow what Walton herself likes to call incluing —the sort of exposition that doesn't feel like just dumping information.
Eighteen-year-old Elvira is on the verge of "coming out" (as a debutante, that is—the more recent meaning of the phrase is not within Elvira's experience). Along with her best friend Betsy Maynard, she's going to be presented to the Queen, in a time-honored ceremony. She has no thoughts to spare for politics. When Elvira and Betsy are invited to a fascist rally by a minor baronet with his eye on Betsy's connections and money, Elvira goes along happily—she thinks it'll be fun.
Unfortunately, a charismatic young man from Liverpool gets up to sing about British Power, and turns the rally into a riot...
I could not stop reading Half a Crown—I just had to find out how it all ended. And Walton does end her tale, the only way it could have ended, really—with a conclusion both miraculous and fitting.
I have no idea why it took me so long to get back to the Small Change books, after I read the first two and loved them in 2008. Together—and they should be read together—these three novels make up a thrilling, chilling tale, the sort of thing that could never, no not ever, never happen here... so let us hope.
May 31, 2017
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 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. 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 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. 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.
December 9, 2019
The final book in the Small Change trilogy. It’s now the 1960s in Walton’s alternate and deeply disturbing Britain. Carmichael is now the head of the Watch, England’s answer to the Gestapo; he’s also heading up a resistance organization on the sly. His 3rd person POV alternates with the 1st person observations of his adopted niece, Elvira, who despite coming across as much sharper than either Lucy or Viola, the previous two books’ narrators, is very obviously and distressingly a product of her times—a bright little fascist-in-training, in other words. There isn’t a murder mystery at the core of this book, as there was with the two previous, but with all the political maneuverings going on, and the truly dire circumstances the characters find themselves in, there’s more than enough happening to keep the plot breathlessly suspenseful. Rarely have I read a series of books where I felt there was more at stake.
This unfortunately leaves Walton very few options when it comes to wrapping things up. There’s the 1984 route, or… I was truthfully very relieved that she didn’t go Orwell-bleak—I’m not sure I could have handled it; nevertheless, I did find the climax a bit too abrupt, too easy in some respects. However, that doesn’t make this trilogy any less of a worthwhile read. All three books are heartbreaking, chilling, and suspenseful. I heartily recommend them.
This unfortunately leaves Walton very few options when it comes to wrapping things up. There’s the 1984 route, or… I was truthfully very relieved that she didn’t go Orwell-bleak—I’m not sure I could have handled it; nevertheless, I did find the climax a bit too abrupt, too easy in some respects. However, that doesn’t make this trilogy any less of a worthwhile read. All three books are heartbreaking, chilling, and suspenseful. I heartily recommend them.
October 19, 2010
A part of me wants to rate this book less highly because things don't turn out the way I want them to turn out -- my definition of a happy ending. There is a sort of happy ending here, though, and the release of tension is amazing, and the whole book makes me feel so much, so I can't dock it points just because it doesn't end exactly the way I want it to end.
If I was to take off a star, it'd be because everything seems to fall into place just a little too easily. But at the same time, it works, for me anyway.
It's hard to like the female narrator, Elvira, because she's just... so unenlightened about the situation she's living in. She becomes a lot more likeable as it goes on, though, and though she doesn't become as aware as I'd like, I suppose her education would be a bit of a mirror of Lucy Kahn's, and the timescale doesn't really work for it.
I still love Carmichael, and I ache for him -- the position he's put in, and what happens to him.
The world Jo Walton creates is chilling and awful and believable, and hurtful. She's good with the gut-punch, because she did it to me in Farthing and Ha'penny too. Somehow, I just never expect it until I suddenly can't quite breathe.
If I was to take off a star, it'd be because everything seems to fall into place just a little too easily. But at the same time, it works, for me anyway.
It's hard to like the female narrator, Elvira, because she's just... so unenlightened about the situation she's living in. She becomes a lot more likeable as it goes on, though, and though she doesn't become as aware as I'd like, I suppose her education would be a bit of a mirror of Lucy Kahn's, and the timescale doesn't really work for it.
I still love Carmichael, and I ache for him -- the position he's put in, and what happens to him.
The world Jo Walton creates is chilling and awful and believable, and hurtful. She's good with the gut-punch, because she did it to me in Farthing and Ha'penny too. Somehow, I just never expect it until I suddenly can't quite breathe.
April 17, 2018
This is going to be a rambling review of the whole Small Change Trilogy.
I devoured Farthing, went slower through Ha'penny until its massively gripping climax, and have taken quite a long time to finish Half a Crown. Jo Walton has one of the most enjoyable writing styles I've ever read, but the world these books are set in is so grim that they're tough, bleak reads. I was engrossed in them and am glad I read them, but I also feel like I could now benefit from reading something super fluffy and looking at pictures of kittens for a while.
Particular warnings for brutal antisemitism and the horrific consequences of a British version of Nazism taking hold in the 1940s. I really appreciated how queer the books are but, as you might expect, there are no happy endings here either.
Farthing
The best of the series. This is a fascinating country house mystery set in a 1949 of whose alternate nature intriguing hints are only slowly revealed. The alternate POVs - the daughter of the household who has scandalised her family by marrying a Jewish man, and a gay police Inspector investigating the death of her parents' family friend - are both totally compelling, as is the wider political conspiracy plot.
Ha'penny
This one meanders a bit at the beginning and doesn't come to life until the Hitler assassination plot draws you in towards the end. I also couldn't sympathise much with Viola and found her passive and toxic relationship with Devlin completely emotionally inexplicable. The last hundred pages are insanely immersive, however.
Half a Crown
Suffers a lot from a weirdly naive ending. This is so out of step with the attitude of the rest of the series it makes me wonder if it came from an editorially-enforced need for an optimistic resolution. It also seems to end in a massive rush. It's still a four-star book, though, mostly because of the author's deliciously absorbing style.
I devoured Farthing, went slower through Ha'penny until its massively gripping climax, and have taken quite a long time to finish Half a Crown. Jo Walton has one of the most enjoyable writing styles I've ever read, but the world these books are set in is so grim that they're tough, bleak reads. I was engrossed in them and am glad I read them, but I also feel like I could now benefit from reading something super fluffy and looking at pictures of kittens for a while.
Particular warnings for brutal antisemitism and the horrific consequences of a British version of Nazism taking hold in the 1940s. I really appreciated how queer the books are but, as you might expect, there are no happy endings here either.
Farthing
The best of the series. This is a fascinating country house mystery set in a 1949 of whose alternate nature intriguing hints are only slowly revealed. The alternate POVs - the daughter of the household who has scandalised her family by marrying a Jewish man, and a gay police Inspector investigating the death of her parents' family friend - are both totally compelling, as is the wider political conspiracy plot.
Ha'penny
This one meanders a bit at the beginning and doesn't come to life until the Hitler assassination plot draws you in towards the end. I also couldn't sympathise much with Viola and found her passive and toxic relationship with Devlin completely emotionally inexplicable. The last hundred pages are insanely immersive, however.
Half a Crown
Suffers a lot from a weirdly naive ending. This is so out of step with the attitude of the rest of the series it makes me wonder if it came from an editorially-enforced need for an optimistic resolution. It also seems to end in a massive rush. It's still a four-star book, though, mostly because of the author's deliciously absorbing style.
May 15, 2017
Weaker than the other two should be 2.5 stars really. I didn't really care about debutante goings on - nice as an illustration of frozen time/attitudes but too much detail. I wasn't convinced by Elvira as a character really and the ending was hopeless.(I wont discuss further for fear of spoilers but really !!**!!).
Although the political game playing felt realistic and the general attitudes of the public seemed consistent between books all the characters; Carmichael, Elvira, Jack seemed off somehow.
I don't have an alternate suggestion for the ending I did wonder where the series was going to go but this felt like a cop out and something of a disappointment
Although the political game playing felt realistic and the general attitudes of the public seemed consistent between books all the characters; Carmichael, Elvira, Jack seemed off somehow.
I don't have an alternate suggestion for the ending I did wonder where the series was going to go but this felt like a cop out and something of a disappointment
September 26, 2020
I have wolfed down these last two books of the trilogy, it's been like listening to a friend tell you a story and you just NEED to know the ending.
Sadly the actual ending left me a bit flat.
A case of tying up the loose ends with coincidence and convenience. That being said it still kept me gripped and wanting to know what was going to happen to the characters I'd been following.
It's a 3.5 rather than a 4 (but I've liked the trilogy so it's rounded up)
Sadly the actual ending left me a bit flat.
A case of tying up the loose ends with coincidence and convenience. That being said it still kept me gripped and wanting to know what was going to happen to the characters I'd been following.
It's a 3.5 rather than a 4 (but I've liked the trilogy so it's rounded up)
March 29, 2013
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 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.
July 11, 2011
Third in a series of books in which England made peace with Hitler rather than fight. In this volume, England is building its own concentration camp; the citizens seem to be waking up a bit; and Watch Captain Carmichael's niece and ward, Elvira, on the eve of her debut, accepts a date with the wrong man.
It took me so long to finish this (not entirely the book's fault) that I'm a little suspicious of my criticisms, but it seems to me that the book backs away from dramatic action more than it should. The one major character death takes place offscreen. I kept making predictions about things that were going to happen ("We're hearing an awful lot about this person; I predict she's going to betray Carmichael" ... "this one will be dead by the end of the book" ...) but none of them came true.
I really, really didn't believe the happy ending. Without spoiling everything: some arrests have been made where I truly don't think there will be enough evidence to convict; some people have apparently been defeated who I think have enough allies to rescue them; some people have come forward to help who seem to me to be so deeply compromised or so powerless that they really won't be able to do what they promise; if this had been the middle of Book 2, I would expect the Nazis to come back from this relatively minor setback with even more power.
One thing that was a strength throughout the series was that people had the moral beliefs that their upbringing gave them. Elvira isn't a brave anti-Nazi; she actually believes most of the things she's been told, and she thinks an anti-Jewish rally is a fun and exciting night out. It's difficult to read, but plausible and pleasantly challenging.
It took me so long to finish this (not entirely the book's fault) that I'm a little suspicious of my criticisms, but it seems to me that the book backs away from dramatic action more than it should. The one major character death takes place offscreen. I kept making predictions about things that were going to happen ("We're hearing an awful lot about this person; I predict she's going to betray Carmichael" ... "this one will be dead by the end of the book" ...) but none of them came true.
I really, really didn't believe the happy ending. Without spoiling everything: some arrests have been made where I truly don't think there will be enough evidence to convict; some people have apparently been defeated who I think have enough allies to rescue them; some people have come forward to help who seem to me to be so deeply compromised or so powerless that they really won't be able to do what they promise; if this had been the middle of Book 2, I would expect the Nazis to come back from this relatively minor setback with even more power.
One thing that was a strength throughout the series was that people had the moral beliefs that their upbringing gave them. Elvira isn't a brave anti-Nazi; she actually believes most of the things she's been told, and she thinks an anti-Jewish rally is a fun and exciting night out. It's difficult to read, but plausible and pleasantly challenging.
January 9, 2012
http://nwhyte.livejournal.com/1827811...
Having left years between reading the first two books of the Small Change trilogy, which are separated in time by just weeks, I then find on reading the third a few weeks after finishing the second that it is set almost a decade into Walton's alternate timeline where Britain settled with Hitler in 1940 and moved sharply towards fascism. Now the two viewpoint characters are the gay secret police chief Carmichael and his unsuspecting ward Elvira, and the tangled web of coercion and lies which has sustained the British government for many years is stretching to breaking point. It's a simpler book in plot terms - now that Carmichael has become a secret policeman rather than a detective, the plot is about conflicting state security structures rather than solving crime - but I was gripped to the end, knowing what Walton is capable of doing to her viewpoint characters and hoping that it might not happen this time. My only slight cavil is that a personality shared by our timeline demonstrates a crucial heroism at the end which I fear the real-life counterpart might not have. But I also smiled at some familiar names from fandom showing up as characters.
Really excellent stuff, and I recommend the entire trilogy - Farthing, Ha'Penny and Half a Crown - without hesitation.
Having left years between reading the first two books of the Small Change trilogy, which are separated in time by just weeks, I then find on reading the third a few weeks after finishing the second that it is set almost a decade into Walton's alternate timeline where Britain settled with Hitler in 1940 and moved sharply towards fascism. Now the two viewpoint characters are the gay secret police chief Carmichael and his unsuspecting ward Elvira, and the tangled web of coercion and lies which has sustained the British government for many years is stretching to breaking point. It's a simpler book in plot terms - now that Carmichael has become a secret policeman rather than a detective, the plot is about conflicting state security structures rather than solving crime - but I was gripped to the end, knowing what Walton is capable of doing to her viewpoint characters and hoping that it might not happen this time. My only slight cavil is that a personality shared by our timeline demonstrates a crucial heroism at the end which I fear the real-life counterpart might not have. But I also smiled at some familiar names from fandom showing up as characters.
Really excellent stuff, and I recommend the entire trilogy - Farthing, Ha'Penny and Half a Crown - without hesitation.
September 13, 2014
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 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.
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.
August 11, 2016
Jo Walton’s books remind me of Alfred Hitchcock movies. They start slowly, but the tension and suspense continue to mount until by the end you are racing through the final pages find out what happens. The Small Change trilogy isn’t easy to categorize – they have aspects of science fiction/fantasy and mystery/thriller. Although I enjoyed all the books in this series, the final one is my favorite. A perfect ending to an outstanding series!
November 28, 2017
I was afraid to re-read this one because this is when Bad Things Happen to Good People. But I loved it nonetheless. The normalisation of fascism described here is terrifying and unfortunately eerily familiar.
July 5, 2017
I really enjoyed this series. I thought it was going to end badly but it turned out okay.
June 7, 2020
Read this out of sequence as this is the final book in the trilogy. Still quite good! I just need to get my hands on the second book to finish.
December 9, 2019
Jo Walton’s “Small Change” trilogy is a challenging one to classify. Her previous novels in the series, Farthing and Ha'penny, easily fit a number of genres – alternate history, murder mystery, suspense novel, spy thriller – without entirely being defined by any one of them. This book, the final novel in her series, is no different. Less a murder mystery than a political thriller, it takes her concept of a Britain descending towards fascism and moves it a decade into the future. By 1960, Britain has been ruled by politician-turned-dictator Mark Normanby for a decade. Jews and other perceived undesirables are frequently rounded up and sent for disposal to the Continent, where the Nazis have triumphed in their long-running war against the Soviets. Most Britons have accepted fascist rule, with a police force that now regularly tortures suspects and a body called the Watch which serves as a domestic Gestapo, and have even come to believe it to be beneficial. Peter Carmichael, the former Scotland Yard inspector turned secret policeman, runs a clandestine organization that struggles to help rescue people when possible, but he is faced with the twin challenge of a potential coup by the Duke of Windsor and the discovery of his secret life by his ward Elvira Royston, the orphaned daughter of his former police partner.
As with the other volumes, Walton develops her story by alternating between the first-person account of the naive Elvira and a third person narrative focusing on Carmichael. Yet there is no great mystery in this volume but a dual plot focusing on the emergence of the totalitarian “Ironsides” movement and Elvira’s growing exposure to the ugly realities of her world. Without the mystery, the emphasis is on suspense, yet Walton comes up short here. While she implies that her alternate Britain is a terrifying place, little of this seems to come out in the novel itself. Instead, everything seems almost laughably tame, from a secret policeman who is astonishing indiscreet and easily caught unawares to a underground coup that is hardly anything to fear. All of this saps the suspense from the story, making it a somewhat unsatisfying conclusion to an otherwise enjoyable and well-realized series.
As with the other volumes, Walton develops her story by alternating between the first-person account of the naive Elvira and a third person narrative focusing on Carmichael. Yet there is no great mystery in this volume but a dual plot focusing on the emergence of the totalitarian “Ironsides” movement and Elvira’s growing exposure to the ugly realities of her world. Without the mystery, the emphasis is on suspense, yet Walton comes up short here. While she implies that her alternate Britain is a terrifying place, little of this seems to come out in the novel itself. Instead, everything seems almost laughably tame, from a secret policeman who is astonishing indiscreet and easily caught unawares to a underground coup that is hardly anything to fear. All of this saps the suspense from the story, making it a somewhat unsatisfying conclusion to an otherwise enjoyable and well-realized series.
January 21, 2023
Half A Crown takes place in 1960, 11 years after the events of "Farthing" and "Ha'penny." A paraplegic Normanby still holds the reins as Prime Minister. Inspector Carmichael is now Watch Commander Carmichael. The Watch, Britain's answer to the Gestapo, is Normonby's whip hand to ensure that he stays in power and that things stay quiet - but it's obvious things won't stay quiet long. The Soviet Union has finally been crushed between Imperial Japan and Nazi Germany, and the whole world is coming to London for a peace conference. The Duke of Windsor is visiting the city for the 1st time since his abdication. "True" British fascists take the occasion to come into the streets, complaining Normanby hasn't gone far enough in shipping undesirables to the death camps on the continent. Ordinary citizens are increasingly upset about the crackdowns and are beginning to show their dissatisfaction. And if that weren't enough going on, Carmichael and a select set within the watch have been working against the system along along, freeing the innocent and smuggling Jews out of the country when they can.
This novel has some obviously dark moments, but it almost as obviously seems to scream out that something has got to give. The cast of characters, older and bleaker, return for the final act. The only one who defies the mold is Elvira Royston, now grown daughter of the deceased Sgt. Royston. As the ward of "Uncle" Carmichael, Elvira takes up the role of the female counter-narrator to Carmichael and shows you the privileged side of Fascist Britain as she readies for her social debut and presentation to the Queen - while all the aforementioned boils in the background. Elvira, like any number of her class, is ignorant of what is going on in England until by chance she ends up on the wrong side of the law. Inevitably, this drags Carmichael into conflict with his hated old boss, Penn-Barkis, who still heads the Metropolitan Police.
The plot, if imagined readily enough in broad outlines, still takes plenty of twists and turns I didn't expect. Having said that, I think Walton tied things up too quickly and rather too neatly. Even so, "Half A Crown" was an enjoyable read and gives us some closure.
This novel has some obviously dark moments, but it almost as obviously seems to scream out that something has got to give. The cast of characters, older and bleaker, return for the final act. The only one who defies the mold is Elvira Royston, now grown daughter of the deceased Sgt. Royston. As the ward of "Uncle" Carmichael, Elvira takes up the role of the female counter-narrator to Carmichael and shows you the privileged side of Fascist Britain as she readies for her social debut and presentation to the Queen - while all the aforementioned boils in the background. Elvira, like any number of her class, is ignorant of what is going on in England until by chance she ends up on the wrong side of the law. Inevitably, this drags Carmichael into conflict with his hated old boss, Penn-Barkis, who still heads the Metropolitan Police.
The plot, if imagined readily enough in broad outlines, still takes plenty of twists and turns I didn't expect. Having said that, I think Walton tied things up too quickly and rather too neatly. Even so, "Half A Crown" was an enjoyable read and gives us some closure.
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