The Innocence of Father Brown by G.K. Chesterton

Still, at least that line made me smile, unlike this, from the following story, one of several snide remarks about Jews and their supposed love of money: The proprietor knew all his waiters like the fingers on his hand there were only fifteen of them all told. I think my favourite line, showing Chesterton’s poor grasp of either writing or arithmetic – perhaps both – must be: Having worked all this out on the basis of the sound of the footsteps, and having then discovered that there’s a second door in his locked room which has been unlocked all along *eyeroll*, Brown tackles the dangerous criminal, and with a few words persuades him to repent, turn over the loot and depart to lead a better life. (Why locked in? No idea, other than that the plot requires him to be unable to open the door and look out.) Hearing footsteps outside in the corridor, he miraculously extrapolates from the sound of them a) that something queer is going on b) that it must be someone pretending to be a gentleman part of the time and a waiter the other part and c) that therefore this individual must be stealing the valuable cutlery about which Brown miraculously seems to know and d) that the criminal is getting way with this imposture because gentlemen and waiters all wear black jackets and it is therefore impossible to tell them apart. On this evening, while they dine in one room of a restaurant, Father Brown sits locked in in another, writing a letter on behalf of a dying man. A group of rich gentlemen have a monthly dining club during which they use their own valuable set of fish knives and forks. Let me give you an example, which includes major spoilers for one of the stories, The Queer Feet. Throw in Chesterton’s supercilious disdain for anyone from a creed other than his own – i.e., Roman Catholicism – with his sanctimonious sneering reserved especially for atheists and Jews, and I find the stories often actively unpleasant as well as unentertaining.

Nonsensical plots, frequently poor writing and ridiculous scenes of the priest with a few words bringing hardened criminals to repentance leave me struggling to find anything to admire in these. Sometimes when I dislike a popular book or author, I can see why the world loves them even although I don’t. There are twelve stories and I made it through almost four of them before I decided I’d rather be cleaning the cats’ litter tray.

This is the first collection of Chesterton’s stories about the little Catholic priest who not only solves inexplicable mysteries but also cures souls as he goes along.

The Innocence of Father Brown by G.K. Chesterton