Friday, 4 October 2013 06:09 pm
Book Review: The Complete Father Brown Stories
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deckardcanineSo much for my expectation that I would read some and put the rest on the shelf indefinitely. I completed the 800+ pages in just short of two months. This includes a long but, to me, worthwhile introduction by Michael D. Hurley, who is aptly economical in his endnotes throughout the collection (I didn't even bother with a second bookmark). Most of the stories are 12–21 pages long; "The Donnington Affair," which Max Pemberton began and our main man G.K. Chesterton finished, reaches 30.
While I surmised that a collection of short stories would serve my attention span well -- and be more likely to avoid the silliness that emerged late in Chesterton's other detective story, The Man Who Was Thursday -- the format has significant disadvantages. First, every new story means a new setup, which can take a while. Second, I eventually abandoned my daily page quota and made a point to finish a mystery on the same day I started it, because otherwise it can be hard to retain the latest details and not run them together with earlier ones. Third, most characters appear in only one story, so it's hard to take much interest in anyone besides Father Brown himself. How ironic that people who didn't already know him often found his presence easy to ignore or forget, probably because his clerical garb was the only thing remarkable about his appearance.
In fact, irony may be called the prime running theme of the collection. Before his reputation precedes him, no stranger expects much of "the little priest," who may not even rate a mention until several pages in (thankfully less common in later stories). Many have a low opinion of Roman Catholicism and are surprised that a faithful adherent could exhibit so much logic -- and so much skepticism when it comes to supernatural explanations. Kudos to Chesterton for never including miracles, witchcraft, or debunked science (or much of any science) in his solutions. Perhaps more importantly, people assume that Brown knows very little of criminal matters, when of course he's heard plenty in confessions. And despite his basically saintly behavior, which can be refreshing after so many jerkish detectives, he does appeal to his own base nature in figuring out crimes: As he tells an interviewer, "It was I who killed all those people." FWIW, Chesterton advises us to explore our dark sides in writing.
Brown is likable in his meek presentation, his patience and forgiveness, his way with epigrams (not always agreeable to me), his light sarcasm, and his lack of physical grace. Unfortunately, when his habit of not saying enough right away is his only flaw as a detective, you might just consider him a Gary Stu. He always solves the mystery entirely on his own, regardless of company. He never follows a false lead; nothing confuses him for long. Perhaps that's what Chesterton contemporaries meant by his works being too contrived, an accusation he dismissed as irrelevant to his nearly joking purpose. He did make a point to put enough clues in place that the audience might beat Brown to the punch, but I never got any further than noting something suspicious. And despite this principle, in a few cases, Chesterton skimped on describing what Brown had sensed. In at least one case, he didn't really explain how Brown ruled out an alternative explanation; if not for the subsequent confession, I wouldn't have been sold.
And what are the mysteries like? Rather than mere whodunnits, they usually ask what was done and how. They can involve grisly murders, thefts...or no crime after all. The last such cases are most amusing, but I can also appreciate when the situation is nastier than it first appears, causing even Brown to shudder.
Since the stories date from 1911 to 1936, you can bet on some political incorrectness, especially when Chesterton takes an increasing interest in foreigners (think early Hergé). I guess he stopped seeing the United States as a behaviorally "old" nation, because Americans appear more and more. As far as racism goes, the phrase "fair for its day" comes to mind. I'd never seen the N-word applied to South Asians before. But Brown doesn't rely on stereotypes for suspicion as much as Hercule Poirot does, and he's consistently the least bigoted person in the room. Only creeds, not colors, ever meet with his disapproval.
The other factor that gives me pause is the grammar. I don't know how much of it has to do with the period or location, but some omissions of "that" caused me to misread a few sentences initially. And my above-average implementation of semicolons has nothing on Chesterton. I still haven't figured out a pattern to his uses where modern styles -- including British ones if Lynne Truss is any indication -- call for a comma. Should I blame Penguin Classics instead?
Following this read, I picked up a birthday present, The Elements of F*cking Style, but I don't need blunt examples to know the rules and that sense of humor really doesn't cut it for me. I'll donate it somewhere. In the meantime, I will surely enjoy Guards! Guards! by Terry Pratchett.
While I surmised that a collection of short stories would serve my attention span well -- and be more likely to avoid the silliness that emerged late in Chesterton's other detective story, The Man Who Was Thursday -- the format has significant disadvantages. First, every new story means a new setup, which can take a while. Second, I eventually abandoned my daily page quota and made a point to finish a mystery on the same day I started it, because otherwise it can be hard to retain the latest details and not run them together with earlier ones. Third, most characters appear in only one story, so it's hard to take much interest in anyone besides Father Brown himself. How ironic that people who didn't already know him often found his presence easy to ignore or forget, probably because his clerical garb was the only thing remarkable about his appearance.
In fact, irony may be called the prime running theme of the collection. Before his reputation precedes him, no stranger expects much of "the little priest," who may not even rate a mention until several pages in (thankfully less common in later stories). Many have a low opinion of Roman Catholicism and are surprised that a faithful adherent could exhibit so much logic -- and so much skepticism when it comes to supernatural explanations. Kudos to Chesterton for never including miracles, witchcraft, or debunked science (or much of any science) in his solutions. Perhaps more importantly, people assume that Brown knows very little of criminal matters, when of course he's heard plenty in confessions. And despite his basically saintly behavior, which can be refreshing after so many jerkish detectives, he does appeal to his own base nature in figuring out crimes: As he tells an interviewer, "It was I who killed all those people." FWIW, Chesterton advises us to explore our dark sides in writing.
Brown is likable in his meek presentation, his patience and forgiveness, his way with epigrams (not always agreeable to me), his light sarcasm, and his lack of physical grace. Unfortunately, when his habit of not saying enough right away is his only flaw as a detective, you might just consider him a Gary Stu. He always solves the mystery entirely on his own, regardless of company. He never follows a false lead; nothing confuses him for long. Perhaps that's what Chesterton contemporaries meant by his works being too contrived, an accusation he dismissed as irrelevant to his nearly joking purpose. He did make a point to put enough clues in place that the audience might beat Brown to the punch, but I never got any further than noting something suspicious. And despite this principle, in a few cases, Chesterton skimped on describing what Brown had sensed. In at least one case, he didn't really explain how Brown ruled out an alternative explanation; if not for the subsequent confession, I wouldn't have been sold.
And what are the mysteries like? Rather than mere whodunnits, they usually ask what was done and how. They can involve grisly murders, thefts...or no crime after all. The last such cases are most amusing, but I can also appreciate when the situation is nastier than it first appears, causing even Brown to shudder.
Since the stories date from 1911 to 1936, you can bet on some political incorrectness, especially when Chesterton takes an increasing interest in foreigners (think early Hergé). I guess he stopped seeing the United States as a behaviorally "old" nation, because Americans appear more and more. As far as racism goes, the phrase "fair for its day" comes to mind. I'd never seen the N-word applied to South Asians before. But Brown doesn't rely on stereotypes for suspicion as much as Hercule Poirot does, and he's consistently the least bigoted person in the room. Only creeds, not colors, ever meet with his disapproval.
The other factor that gives me pause is the grammar. I don't know how much of it has to do with the period or location, but some omissions of "that" caused me to misread a few sentences initially. And my above-average implementation of semicolons has nothing on Chesterton. I still haven't figured out a pattern to his uses where modern styles -- including British ones if Lynne Truss is any indication -- call for a comma. Should I blame Penguin Classics instead?
Following this read, I picked up a birthday present, The Elements of F*cking Style, but I don't need blunt examples to know the rules and that sense of humor really doesn't cut it for me. I'll donate it somewhere. In the meantime, I will surely enjoy Guards! Guards! by Terry Pratchett.
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father brown
no subject
Interestingly, while at my folks house I saw an add for a Father Brown TV series coming to PBS.