Hot on the heels of Solly and noodles hatred for The Maidens, gather round, it's time for a rant.
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The Twyford Code by Janice Hallett
Seldom have I read a book that has caused me so much instant aggravation. It was sold to me very much on the premise that this book is about Edith Twyford, a very thinly veiled and obvious take on Enid Blyton, and this was about a code she built into her Super Six books which had something to do with Nazi gold. Early on, there is an extremely on the nose reference to Masquerade.
So this is The Famous Five meets Masquerade. I ask you, who among us as a child bookworm doesn't immediately want to read this?
Unfortunately, Hallett takes this genius burning candle of an idea and just torches it to fucking cinders.
An intro tells us that what we are reading are audio files which have been transcribed by a machine so that's the reason for any errors. Must've becomes mustard etc and further excuses are made later.
What it's really an excuse for is for the author to write what she imagines the following character must sound like :
A working class, barely literate man, who grew up on a housing estate, was in Remedial English and has just left prison
If you are imagining a fucking cringeworthy display of cliche, class prejudice and stereotype not just in characterisation but in all round plot, you'd be right. My deepest cringe came at the forelock tugging way protagonist Steve displays his gratitude that his son, at least, attended private school.
I don't know how she maintained this writing style throughout it's got to have been as painful to persist with as it is to read.
All the Super Six and Twyford stuff is buried under the How Much Could I Care Less? "Journey" of the protagonist
When the series of twists and reveals come thick and fast as they do in maybe the last 20 pages, it just provokes, firstly, oh ok, that's quite cool, but then as they keep coming it just provokes multiple reactions of : Oh Fuck Off/What A Total Fucking Waste Of My Time
I could nearly cry for the book this could have been. Wouldn't touch this author again with a bargepole.
