kiramke's review against another edition
4.0
No fancy review this time. A good ending to the series; I even appreciate the one improbable bit. As I said, I think she justified the invocation, and I approve of the series as a speculative exploration of how tyranny creeps in. Of course it's a lesson we could learn from so many experiences, but I don't care where we learn it as long as it sinks in.
mochavonbee's review against another edition
4.0
This series is very hard to rate as I found it original and compelling and loved it, despite a couple of Buts. I loved the way this one was set later than the first two and we could see how things had developed in the meantime. The alternate version of the 1960s was very plausible and sensitively handled. The writing, especially the way sinister details were thrown in as offhand asides, was excellent. In terms of the setting, this might have been the strongest of the trilogy. I love Jo Walton as an author and will definitely read more of her work, but I did not love the ending, even though it was clever in many ways and did draw all the strands together. Somehow, it just didn't quite fit. It was a Ruritanian ending but this wasn't a Ruritanian novel or series.
Still, I would definitely recommend the trilogy for originality, enjoyment and writing.
Still, I would definitely recommend the trilogy for originality, enjoyment and writing.
shanth's review against another edition
2.0
This was an alt-history series that began brilliantly, but seemed to lose focus in the second and third books. Walton writes great characters and does great job of observing and describing the tiny quirks and habits that define us; unfortunately, a lot about the political intrigues and ideas that are a major part of this series were explicitly spelt out instead of being left unsaid which made the writing seem heavy-handed at times.
Each novel alternates between chapters from the point of view of Inspector (later Commander of the Watch) Carmichael and ones from the p.o.v. of a (young) woman who is somehow involved in what is happening. Lucy Kahn, in the first novel was a brilliant counterpoint in that sense, because she is very perceptive and intelligent and although her upbringing as a rich aristocratic socialite makes her oblivious to the darker political changes her parents are involved in, she quickly catches on and is actually invaluable in planning and executing her (and her husband's) escape. The narrators in the other two stories don't seem to share this agency or intelligence, which makes it hard to relate to or root for these unwilling or unwitting victims of unfolding events.
Despite these flaws, I think the novel has its redeeming features in its portrayal of how easy it is for democratic free societies to fall prey to the lure of fascism. Although the several cloying paeans to Churchill, and final deux-ex-regina kind of dilute the point.
Each novel alternates between chapters from the point of view of Inspector (later Commander of the Watch) Carmichael and ones from the p.o.v. of a (young) woman who is somehow involved in what is happening. Lucy Kahn, in the first novel was a brilliant counterpoint in that sense, because she is very perceptive and intelligent and although her upbringing as a rich aristocratic socialite makes her oblivious to the darker political changes her parents are involved in, she quickly catches on and is actually invaluable in planning and executing her (and her husband's) escape. The narrators in the other two stories don't seem to share this agency or intelligence, which makes it hard to relate to or root for these unwilling or unwitting victims of unfolding events.
Despite these flaws, I think the novel has its redeeming features in its portrayal of how easy it is for democratic free societies to fall prey to the lure of fascism. Although the several cloying paeans to Churchill, and final deux-ex-regina kind of dilute the point.
quietdomino's review against another edition
3.0
This trilogy was the perfect example of reading the right book at the right time. I keep thinking over the details of the rise to a population complicit in horrific acts of fascism and marveling over Walton's capacity to get it seemingly so right in advance. Sorely needed the slightly happy ending of this book as well.
rachelini's review against another edition
4.0
I put off reading this book for ages, but once I picked it up I couldn't put it down. Excellent end to the series.
cleheny's review against another edition
3.0
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.
majkia's review against another edition
Satisfying ending to the Farthing trilogy. Set in a very upsetting alternate world where Hitler won WWII, it forces you to confront how easily prejudice, hatred and cruelty can be fostered in frightened populations. Even your own.
kentcryptid's review against another edition
4.0
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.