Certain of the great roads going north out of London continue far into the country a sort of attenuated and interrupted spectre of a street, with great gaps in the building, but preserving the line. Here will be a group of shops, followed by a fenced field or paddock, and then a famous public-house, and then perhaps a market garden or a nursery garden, and then one large private house, and then another field and another inn, and so on.
Gilbert Keith Chesterton was an English writer, philosopher, lay theologian, and literary and art critic.
He was educated at St. Paul’s, and went to art school at University College London. In 1900, he was asked to contribute a few magazine articles on art criticism, and went on to become one of the most prolific writers of all time. He wrote a hundred books, contributions to 200 more, hundreds of poems, including the epic Ballad of the White Horse, five plays, five novels, and some two hundred short stories, including a popular series featuring the priest-detective, Father Brown. In spite of his literary accomplishments, he considered himself primarily a journalist. He wrote over 4000 newspaper essays, including 30 years worth of weekly columns for the Illustrated London News, and 13 years of weekly columns for the Daily News. He also edited his own newspaper, G.K.’s Weekly.
Chesterton was equally at ease with literary and social criticism, history, politics, economics, philosophy, and theology.
The language used in this novella should no longer be used. Fine I get it’s another time. But I certainly would never recommend this book to anyone because of the language.
Not only does it use the word yellow to describe someone of from Indian it also uses the N-word too. It also describes anything Asian as being wrong or evil. Even at one point there is an explanation for why Father Brown thinks this, and he says Arabic looks like the devil endowed writing.
The only reason this novel was finished was because I was trying to fall asleep and the audio book was on the other side. But the language got b so upset.
The mystery is rather good and surprising, it should be a show or movie. The writing and descriptions should be rewritten. And doing so would take nothing away from the story.
If we can rewrite Shakespeare a million times to keep with the times, same can be done for such racist language, to show the merits of the story whilst being anti-racist.
Another one of Greg Wagland's (Magpie Audio) free Father Brown stories on Youtube, listened to while driving. Oddly enough, I don't seem to be able to find my notes about this story, and now three and a half months later I cannot remember what this was about. What I do remember, however, is that this was a similarly mediocre story as the other ones.
The house has the wrong shape, a knife has the wrong shape and a suicide note has the wrong shape. Father Brown knows that something isn't right.
As a mystery this is far from being the best of Brown, even I guessed this one despite the presence of a couple of obvious red herrings. However, that's not really what these stories are about. Their primary purpose is to present a philosophical advertisement for Catholic thought; the subject here is the difference between the miraculous and the merely marvelous:
"The quality of a miracle is mysterious, but its manner is simple."
As an aside, the actor who played Father Brown in the recent BBC series was also very much the wrong shape.
What a shock!!! A Father Bruin story that actually has some common sense to it. The paper was the wrong shape because, the murderer had cut off the parts of the paper that would have shown that the note, written in the dead man's handwriting, was not actually a suicide note. It was a bit of literary writing. The dead man was a poet after all.
Wow! That even makes sense to me!!
On display also in this story, is GKC's blatent racism toward Indian people and his bigotry toward their particular faith, because it isn't christianity. And his xenophobia towards anything "Eastern", particularly its orthography and writing style, which looks inherently "evil" to him. What an ass!
Also included, for one's reading boredom, is GKC's usual cast of dull, uninteresting, bland characters with not a shred of personality to share amongst themselves. Snoooore!
And so, the case is solved, by another sermon from the boring Father Bruin, convincing the murdering, yet love struck Doctor, to write out a "confession" of his crime and give it to him in a sealed envelope. Father Bruin says, of course, he won't snitch to the police, (it's the seal of confession thing), and lets the murderer make his own decision about confessing to the authorities.
And once again, I have to confess to myself, that I really don't like these Tales of Father Bruin.
¿Hay un orden correcto en el universo? ¿Cómo sería el mundo creado por un Dios sumamente verdadero, sumamente necesario, sumamente bueno? Este cuento parece sencillo a simple vista, pero no dudo que, si se le observa con cuidado, se encontrará que Chesterton presenta unos claros supuestos metafísicos, teológicos y antropológicos. En un mundo ordenado, las criaturas simples, como las angélicas y las demoníacas, actúan de manera igualmente simple, si bien misteriosa. No obstante, aquellos sucesos misteriosos que no son simples deben venir de otro lugar, de otra fuente, de seres compuestos. Considero que hay muchas reflexiones que se pueden hacer de este cuento que van más allá de mis capacidades, muchas cosas que se me fueron o que no pude notar. Sin embargo, una sola leída ya es suficiente para mostrar que las aguas de la literatura chestertoniana, que podrían parecer superficiales son, en realidad, un océano completo.
I tend to be more lenient on older stories espousing now-unacceptable language or beliefs--it wasn't any better back then but it was a lot more common, unfortunately--but add the already kind of uninteresting mystery on top of the kind of racist depiction of a South Asian man (including a dropping of the n-word) and I'm out.
My rating: I'm not giving it an official rating, the one star is enough to show my displeasure. Would I own/re-read?: No. TW: See the entire body of my review. Does the animal die?: No animals are harmed by the wrong shape.
An ailing writer commits suicide in his mansion surrounded by a garden where everything is somehow out of shape, according to Father Brown. This story is more of a happenstance for Father than an active investigation. Stories like these ground a character in ways high-octane cases can’t, lending an air of realism. A very light read yet one that leaves a mark.
Giving it a single star because that’s the lowest you can give. Where’s the suspense in this? What kind of detective story gets solved with the culprit writing a confession to the detective, who does nothing to solve the case at all?