Second paragraph of third chapter:
‘Don’t ask me, sir,’ replied the harassed man, who had just extricated himself with difficulty from the embrace of a Bessarabian refugee who wanted 237 AA 15 r 3 b Street. ‘All I know is that this is D Street that we’re in—and I believe it, straight. If I was you, I should make a cast up by the Marble Arch.’ He had once upon a time been in the old City police force and still retained traces of a courteous bearing.
I had read a collection of Bramah’s Kai Lung stories in 2015, spotted this going for sale at Eastercon in 2019, and bought it as a potentially interesting future history. It’s pretty horrible actually. Written in 1907, it is set in 1918 after a Socialist government has come to power in the UK (and Ireland has Home Rule); the lefties turn out to be disastrous at actually governing (for certain values of ‘disastrous’) and the forces of conservatism mount a successful campaign of civil disobedience to overthrow the democratically elected ministry, rather as the Unionists did in Northern Ireland in 1974. The book ends with the happy reform of the franchise to restrict it to men with more than £10 to their name, with the extra provision that if you are rich you get more than one vote; this is considered to be a Very Good Thing. Meanwhile in Ireland,
The Parliament sitting at College Green deemed the moment opportune for issuing a Declaration of Independence and proclaiming a republic. Three years before, all Irishmen had been withdrawn from the British army and navy on the receipt of Dublin’s firmly-worded note to the effect that since the granting of extended Home Rule, Irishmen came within the sphere of the Foreign Enlistment Act. These men formed the nucleus of a very useful army with which Ireland thought it would be practicable to hold out in the interior until foreign intervention came to its aid. Possibly England thought so too, for Mr Strummery’s Ministry contented itself with issuing what its members described as a firm and dignified protest. Closely examined, it was discoverable that the dignified portion was a lengthy recapitulation of ancient history; the firm portion a record of Dublin’s demands since Home Rule had been conceded, while the essential part of the communication informed the new republic that its actions were not what his Majesty’s Ministers had expected of it, and that they would certainly reserve the right of taking the matter in hand at some future time more suitable to themselves.
Irish independence is of course portrayed as a Bad Thing.
The pace of the book is energetic, but the politics so repulsive that I cannot really recommend it. If you still want to, you can get it here.
This was both my top unread book acquired in 2019 and the sf book that had lingered longest unread on my shelves. Next on both lists is The Peacock Cloak, by Chris Beckett, which I am certain I will enjoy a lot more.
