England between the world wars was a place that few Americans could imagine. World War I nearly obliterated an entire generation, their decline as a world power had begun, and then came The Great Depression. The middle class was still in the future, and the division between rich and poor was stark. Jeffrey Archer sets his new novel, Only Time Will Tell ($27.99, St. Martin's Press), in those austere times just before World War II. It’s as much a story about the divide between rich and poor, the “haves” and “have nots,” as anything else, and Archer’s portrayal of the contrast between the two is what saves this novel from being a have not.
It’s the time honored tale of a poor kid who makes good. There’s nothing groundbreaking there; it’s a classic tale regurgitated by many authors. Young Harry Clifton is the illegitimate son of a shipping magnate who owns the shipyard where everyone in Harry’s poor neighborhood works. Harry’s paternity is hinted at by his mother’s opening confession that “I had always planned to lose my virginity on the works outing . . . just not to that particular man.” It’s the type of opening that grabs the attention – frank, visceral, even carnal – attributes that one hopes for in a good read. But the story develops through a plot that is contrived, over-worn, even kitschy. It’s a disappointment until Archer captures the times with his vivid descriptions of two things in particular that set the classes apart: food and home. That may be an unintended device, but it provides just enough contrariety that sometimes borders on antagonism to keep the plot from plodding.
This article appears in Oct 20-26, 2011.