Charlotte Kersten

Summary
I feared this was the best of times; I hoped it could not get any worse.

The fairies stole Sydney Carton as a child, and made him a mortal servant of the Faerie Realm. Now, he has a rare opportunity for revenge against the fae and Charles Darnay, the changeling left in his stead.

It will take magic and cunning—cold iron and Realm silver—to hide his intentions from humans and fae and bring his plans to fruition.

Shuttling between London and Paris during the Reign of Terror, generations of violence-begetting-violence lead him to a heartbreaking choice in the shadow of the guillotine.
Review

I know I always mention my high school Dickens obsession phase when I review relevant books nowadays, but I really do think that it’s helpful to know that I’m coming at my Dickens-adjacent analysis from a place of former passionate obsession that has now settled into a kind of fond remembrance. My general feeling about A Tale of Two Cities is that its brilliant parts feel more bogged down by its weaknesses than usual for Dickens because they really are so great that it becomes all the more frustrating to see him doing the usual stupid things he does (oppressively cloying sentimentality, angelic self-sacrificing female characters written about in a creepy way, insane coincidences). We seem to get a new take on Oliver Twist and Great Expectations every few years, but I’ve been waiting for something new to happen with A Tale of Two Cities for years now – and I finally got it with A Far Better Thing!

This retelling builds off of the original story by making Charles Darnay into Sydney Carton’s changeling; Carton spent his childhood in the fae realm and now lives a doomed half-life in the human realm as a servant to the whims of the fae. I think this premise is really smart because of how well it ties together Sydney’s role in the story with the original dynamic of his character envying Charles’ life and seeing Charles as the luckier, happier version of himself.

Carton is one of Dickens’ most enduring characters for a reason, and I think Parry does a great job with his first person perspective here. The essence of his character, with its cynicism, self-aware self-destructiveness, yearning, and dawning nobility is all captured very well. He has a distinct kind of ironic, detached, fatalistic sense of humor about himself and his world that balances out with some more straightforward bouts of self-loathing and despair in a way that ends up feeling both faithful to the original character and authentic for a person in his particular, remarkable plight.

I think some readers might find the amount of misery in his perspective a bit frustrating, but what’s key to keeping my interest with characters like this is that 1) you clearly understand why he thinks and acts the way he does and 2) the depiction enhances the story/storytelling instead of detracting from it. Carton’s writing nails both of these requirements in my opinion, so while ymmv, I personally really enjoyed spending time with him as a character.

I think the other thing that really balances it out is that there is clearly a lot of love, care, and hope left in him as a person despite his bitterness/despair and belief to the contrary. Just like in the original, the story’s power really grows as he starts to realize this and chooses to give it meaning with his selfless actions instead of letting it just be another thing that causes him suffering. With that in mind, the Lucie/Charles/Sydney love triangle ends up being pretty juicy for fans of painful yearning – “I wish I could be a better man for you but there is no hope for me; you deserve someone better who happens to literally be the good version of me; I’ll do anything for your happiness and thus unknowingly prove the worthiness I don’t believe in” etc. etc. etc…sorry but that is just the Good Shit.

Things get more complicated by the fact that Lucie is also a changeling and Carton grew up with the other version of her in the fae realm before she died trying to escape. This ends up deepening the dynamics between all the characters in some interesting ways and creates some truly moving scenes, especially toward the end. But while the dynamics and Carton’s feelings are more complex, and while Lucie’s grating saintliness is definitely toned down from the original book, she still does not necessarily stand on her own as a particularly complex character. Figuring out what to do with the women has got to be the hardest part of any Dickens retelling and I don’t necessarily think Parry did a bad job, but she might have done a bit more.

As you might be able to tell, the magical additions to the plot involving the machinations of fae are fairly convoluted (as befits the fae!). I would ultimately call them pretty clever, both in how competently they unravel throughout the plot and how strongly they tie into the original plot and its classic exploration of revenge and how the fight for justice can twist itself into senseless violence. I loved the ambiguous hope of the ending, with more than one oppressive system breaking apart as humanity is reclaimed.

My only real quibble is that the original characters Parry introduces end up feeling a little obtrusive. They never quite gel as characters on their own or together in their romantic relationship, and their primary importance for helping Carton with the magical side of the story feels awkward and too transparent. This is also true of some of their dialogue, which stands out from the rest of the book’s dialogue especially when it becomes banter-y with Sydney. Overall, though, this is both a great fantasy retelling and a great book in its own right. It’s clear that Parry loves and deeply understands the source material, and she’s built off it in a truly compelling way.