Reviewed by Jeanne
As a non-caloric post holiday treat to myself, I decided to review an old favorite instead of a new book. I started reading mysteries at an early age and remain partial to some of the classic mystery authors. I tended to prefer series with reoccurring sleuths: Dorothy L. Sayers’ Lord Peter Wimsey, Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe, or Erle Stanley Gardner’s Perry Mason. Josephine Tey’s detective was Alan Grant, a nice chap who starred in what is arguably Tey’s most famous book, The Daughter of Time. In it, a bored Inspector Grant is in the hospital with a broken leg and is given a book with portraits. Grant prides himself on reading faces; looking at a picture of Richard the Third, he can’t believe that the king was the monster that the history books say he was. For the rest of the novel, Tey through Grant lays out a case for Richard’s innocence.
While that is indeed a masterful work which set the standard for historical mystery, it’s not my favorite. In fact, this is one of the few times that I have enjoyed an author’s standalone books more than the reoccurring characters. My pick is a book which I’ve read several times over the years and at each re-reading I find myself just as involved as I was the first time. The only thing I might change is its title: Brat Farrar. It’s named for a character but the title itself really gives a browser no clue as to what the book is about. Let me enlighten:
Brat Farrar is set in the mid-1940s, a contemporary piece since the book was published originally in 1949. The Ashby children are being raised by their Aunt Bee, who also took on the management of the horse farm after the parents were killed in an accident. There were five children, but Patrick—Simon’s twin and the eldest child—disappeared at the age of thirteen, leaving behind a cryptic final note hinting at suicide. As the story opens, Simon is preparing to celebrate his twenty-first birthday and thus inherit the family fortune.
A complication arises with the sudden appearance of Brat Farrar, a young man who claims to be the missing Patrick. He looks just like Patrick, or the way Patrick should look by now. He knows the family, the layout of the house, incidents from the past and even has some of Patrick’s mannerisms. Most of all, he has Patrick’s gentleness and sweetness; he’s a lost boy, and he’s finally come home.
We the readers know this is a lie. Brat is an impostor, coached to know all about the Ashbys and Patrick by a man who knew the family well and who hopes to profit from the Ashby fortune. Yet Tey makes us like this young man to the point where we want him to BE Patrick and to be accepted into the family. The problem is that someone else knows that he’s an impostor, because this someone knows what really happened to Patrick. . .
Tey excelled at characterization and this book is no exception. Aunt Bee wants to believe this is her nephew, but is he really Patrick? And if he isn’t Patrick, then who is he? Brat comes to care deeply for the family and worries about hurting them when the truth comes out. Simon is wary of this brother returned from the grave. A deep and abiding love for horses is central to most of the characters, but this book should appeal even to those who aren’t equiniphiles. The writing is solid and insightful; it reminds me more of P.D. James than Agatha Christie, though Tey isn’t as convoluted. The plot flows along beautifully, but the last few pages will have you reading avidly to see just how this all turns out—even if you already know.
I was glad to learn I’m not alone in my affection for the book. Fantasy and Science Fiction writer Jo Walton cited it as an influence; Mary Stewart’s book The Ivy Tree is an homage of sorts to it, even having a character refer to the book by name. Book guru and librarian Nancy Pearl, author of Book Lust, says it is perhaps her favorite mystery novel. So there you have it: if you can’t trust the model for Archie McPhee’s Librarian Action Figure, who can you trust?
