The French Inheritance

by Anne Stevenson

Genres: Gothic

401 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1975

About the author

Felicity Avery (Anne Stevenson, pen name) was born in Cardiff in 1928, she read History at St. Anne’s at the University of Oxford from 1946 to 1949. After her degree, she worked as historical archivist for the Holland-Martin banking family, before turning to journalism and fiction, which was initially published in the form of short stories and serials in magazines and journals. Composed under the nom de guerre of Anne Stevenson, her first novel, Ralph Dacre, was immediately snapped up by Billy Collins in 1967 and quickly became a best seller. It was followed by eight further novels that spanned various genres from thrillers to historical sagas. She has variously been compared to Mary Stewart and, in her pared-down shorter fiction, to Graham Greene and during her most prolific years in 1960s and 1970s, she gathered a considerable number of loyal readers for her intelligent, well-crafted thrillers.

She was married to the economic journalist and naval historian, Ronald Avery (1915-1996) and spent the last years of her life in Oxford, before losing her fight with breast cancer in 2008. She is survived by her daughter, Anne Louise, and grandson, Inigo. There are plans to republish her works in the next couple of years, following a resurgence of interest in her fiction.

Reviews

[Dean Cummings · Rating 5 out of 5]

When author Felicity Avery (pen name Anne Stevenson) dreamed up her protagonist David, she obviously desired to make it clear from the outset that he was a young man on an identity quest. As the novel opens, David’s mother has just passed away, and his adoptive father, a distant memory, died when he was only five years old. He has no living relations on his father’s side even though he possessed a double nationality. David’s father was primarily noted to be an Englishman, and thus, it turned out, this was the primary reason that the family ended up making their home in England. At the outset of the novel, David is an adult and we learn that his recently deceased mother, Simone Hurst is of French descent. In keeping with the theme of his search to learn about his family history, we read that years before, unbeknownst to his mother, David travels to the French town that both he and his mother were born in. In the end he gains nothing but grief and disillusionment for his efforts, due to the fact that he’s unable to find even one person from his mother’s old hometown who remembers her, even worse, when his mother finds out about his secret sojourn, she sharply criticizes his attempt to learn about their past, “they minded their own business, as you should learn to do” she uttered in reprimand.

At this time of the story, David is in his late 20’s, (born in January 1945, and it appears the story takes place in 1974). All he knows of his past are the few details he squeezed, in bits and pieces, from the memory of his emotionally detached mother. He knows that his father fought for England, as an airman during the war. He learned that his mother and father apparently met during the war, but were parted through some unknown circumstance. After the war, apparently much to his mother’s surprise, her lost lover returned, married her and legally adopted David. As mentioned, he died shortly after, leaving her and David alone. Although of French descent, his mother decides that they should remain where they are, and that he should be raised in England, for no other reason than the fact that this is the place he’d spent the first five years of his life, “England is your country” she’d proclaimed, “it’s bad to have two countries, you never know where you are.”

As I read the first chapter of “The French Inheritance” my mind drifted to the lyrics of Neil Diamond’s 1971 song, “I Am…I Said” in which we hear the desperation of a man who feels nameless, unrecognized and empty. “LA’s fine, but it ain’t home, New York’s home, but it ain’t mine no more” could be the trans-Atlantic rendition of the life of David in the opening chapters of this novel. His seemingly fruitless search could be further summed up by the songs later lyrics, “I am I said…I am I cried.”

I found this to be a highly impactful and emotionally compelling way for Stevenson to start this story, and I found myself engaged and invested right away…wanting above all, to know how, or even if, David finds the answers to his antagonizing questions.

Another important aspect of the story is that David has just learned, for the very first time, that his late mother willed him a house she owned in a French town quite near the one of her birth. Even more incredible, she owned it, but somehow kept it a secret for many years! The opening pages of the novel document his trip to the French town to see the property he’s just inherited. He seems to be reasonably decided that he wants to sell it, which would not necessitate him travelling to France. But once again, curiosity about his past takes him back to the French town, in the faint home of finding out more about who he is. We know that this is his intent, especially when we read that he felt no sense of recognition, or emotion of “coming home”, even though he admitted, “he had somewhat romantically hoped he might.”

While visiting the French town, he meets the lawyer, Jacques Gautier, whose been newly assigned to take care of the sale of the home on behalf of David’s late mother. He also meets Nicole Derain, the mysterious, obviously wealthy young niece of local WW2 resistance leader Marcel Carrier and sister to the handsome, but sneering, spiteful, and ever present Paul. I really enjoyed how Stevenson handled the subtle transition that each of these characters assumed…pleasant, friendly and slightly benign, until David discovers a dead woman lying in the bed of one of the bedrooms of his newly acquired home, causing these same characters to take on a much more ominous, shadowy perspective.

Gautier introduces David to an actress named Helen. I really enjoyed experiencing the dynamic of the relationship that grows between these two. I don’t want to say much more, but in my mind this was a really wonderful part of this story - my favorite part in fact.

Anne Stevenson also does a fantastic job of giving us a sense of “place” and even guides the reader toward a seemingly “fair” assessment of these locations after initially painting a less than complimentary image. The first example of this that stood out for me was the description of the home David just inherited, just as he’s seeing it for the first time.

She begins by having David describe the house as, “a Swiss cuckoo-clock run mad” but later, the narrator offers the place some consolation by saying, “It was a house that improved on acquaintance.”

When describing Marcel Carrier’s chateau, we understand the place to be harshly adherent to a certain overall design scheme, “Room upon room, like a series of exquisite boxes, each perfectly proportioned, each furnished with such a sense of period that to come upon a telephone in a paneled ante-chamber not more than six foot square was to experience a sense of cultural shock.” This led me to wonder how anyone could live in such a house, or almost a museum, until I read later that Marcel admits, “The family insists on a little more laxity in their own rooms. Television, for example, and Nicole’s never-silent record player.”

I enjoyed these changes in aspect and found that I experience this in my real life situations as sometimes a place will seem less than desirable when you first look at it, but then over time, its subtle charms emerge, causing you to view it in a much more favorable light. I really enjoyed this part of Anne Stevenson’s brand of storytelling.

There was amazing foreshadowing in this story as well. One example of this was associated with a number of the details David noted when he first stepped foot in his newly acquired house: “Inside, a tall window in stain glass, like the front door, depicting a knight in armour, confronting a uniquely complexioned damsel in distress.” Even as I first read this, I wondered if this stained glass depiction of gallantry was symbolically foretelling a similar moment for David. This act of chivalry did indeed come to pass, and oh how fulfilling it was for me to have recognized it by way of this early clue!

“The French Inheritance” was the second of Anne Stevenson’s novels for me, (I read “A Relative Stranger” last year). I’m so glad I discovered her work. I look forward to reading her other works in the near future.

This story had me in its hold…from start to finish!

I highly recommend “The French Inheritance” by Anne Stevenson.

[Sophie · Rating 3 out of 5]

Intriguing and well-written. Reminded me a bit of the movie Charade with all the talk of missing war money. I figured out fairly early who was behind it all by applying the Charade principle that it's always the person you don’t suspect. Worked like a charm.

[M.J. Compton · Rating 5 out of 5]

My copy of this book is so tattered, there is no glue left on the spine and all the pages are loose. The book is well-loved. A mystery with romantic elements. Full of twists and turns. Well-written. I wish people still wrote books like this.