The Twyford Code

Right from the first page you know this is no run-of-the-mill murder mystery and, having finished it, I’m still not quite sure what it is. Influenced not so much by Agatha Christie as by Dan Brown with a sprinkling of Le Carre, there are shades of Lynda La Plante in the scenes set in London’s gangsterland. More surprisingly Enid Blyton features big, her oeuvre hilariously sent up by Hallett. Also in the mix is Kit Williams’s Masquerade, a fantasy book that sparked a quest for a golden hare buried somewhere in the British countryside in the 70s (this really happened, I kid you not). But what makes this novel unique is the telling of the story through audio files transcribed from an iPhone 4 belonging to Steven Smith, a recently released, semi-literate ex-con, who becomes obsessed with solving the Twyford code. 

If this all sounds a bit amorphous (not to say head-wrecking), be assured it definitely is. I have to admit it was touch and go whether I’d keep reading as I found the first few chapters (or batch files) quite difficult. The transcription software often gets things wrong – e.g. “Miss Iles” becomes “missiles”, “must have” is “mustard”, the f word becomes “f(explicit)k”, and every pause and inhalation is recorded - which caused me a fair amount of head-scratching to begin with. However, Hallett kindly provides a key and before long I realised that this odd way of telling the story cleverly adds another dimension to the codes and puzzles around which the novel is constructed. 

This is essentially one big puzzle, studded with codes and symbols, and surrounded by a mystery which the reader is invited to solve – reading this is not a passive experience. The surreal premise is that there is a secret code embedded in a book by Edith Twyford (not so subtly based on Enid Blyton) which Steven found abandoned on a school bus when he was 11. He shows it to his teacher, Miss Iles, who immediately recognises its importance, and so begins the awfully big adventure. What follows is a tale of derring-do built on shifting sands and sleight of hand. Nothing is what it seems and everyone, including our protagonist, proves not to be entirely reliable. The question is: What is real and what is not? 

But fun as all the Enigma-style puzzling and Famous Five adventuring is, there’s a more serious side to this novel. Steven’s loneliness, recollections of a tough childhood and exploitation by a vicious London gang grounds the novel and allows us to become involved at a deeper level than the merely cerebral. Even while not being sure if his memories are real, or whether he’s telling us the full story, we root for him and want him to prevail. And the twist at the end is a doozy – unforeseeable and utterly satisfying.