Only Time Will Tell (The Clifton Chronicles) (The Clifton Chronicles, 1)
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This was the first book I read by Jeffrey Archer, but I have every intention of reading many more after this one. From the docks of working-class England to the bustling streets of 1940 New York City, Only Time Will Tell takes readers on a journey through to future volumes, which will bring to life one hundred years of recent history to reveal a family story that neither the reader nor Harry Clifton himself could ever have imagined. Clifton forges ahead to make a name for himself, while living under the shadow of never having met his father. Archer singles himself out by using seven narrators to tell the same story from their own point of view.
The plot revolves around the protagonist Harry Clifton, spanning the time between the end of World War I and the beginning of the Second World War. I was not comfortable with the way the wedding was handled and thought the whole thing was melodramatic. Like I don't know how many times the readers were told that Harry Clifton is smart and poor , smart and poor , I mean we get it in first 5 times but if you keep mentioning it for 50 times , I don't know. The man Harry believes to be his father was a war hero, but it will be 21 years before Harry discovers how he died, and if he was indeed his father. He was facing an even greater dilemma than I was, because seven generations of Bridports had been educated at Eton, and it was looking as if young Percy was going to ruin that rather fine batting average.Jeffrey Archer, whose novels and short stories include Kane and Abel , A Prisoner of Birth and Cat O' Nine Tales , has topped the bestseller lists around the world, with sales of over 270 million copies.
But past encounters with an ex are never far away, and when Harry befriends Giles Barrington, his meddlesome, fraudulent father, Hugo, does his best to deny what happened between Harry’s mother and himself all those years ago. They are all so vividly developed, and I found I could empathise and even relate to some of them quite easily.
It is intriguing to the very last page, and I appreciate the way all of the characters weave in and out each others lives with such ease. It was after I overheard the Frob saying to another beak, ‘If Bridport was any brighter, he’d be a half-wit,’ that I knew I didn’t need to look any further for my accomplice. After lunch with my uncle Stan, one bite of his Marmite sandwich, his discarded apple core and a swig of beer, I would be back at school in time for a game of football; the only activity I considered it worth turning up for.