“A Red Herring Without Mustard”, by Alan Bradley

 

416 pages, Bantam Books, ISBN-13: 978-0385343466

What else can I say about Flavia de Luce? How many more praises can I sing to everyone’s favorite 11-year-old aspiring chemist/amateur detective/precocious hellion? In A Red Herring Without Mustard, Alan Bradley’s third mystery starring the aforementioned chemist/detective/hellion, Flavia is once again called upon to solve a Murder Most Foul in her sleepy little corner of England. After attending the annual fête at Bishop’s Lacey – and nearly killing the fortune teller – Flavia invites the gypsy to stay at a small corner of her ancestral home, Buckshaw, as penance, only to learn more than she bargained for about her family…and to find yet another corpse.

Herring continues in the vein of the previous two books; indeed, it is rather a return to form as the murder occurs sooner rather than later and Flavia returns to her alchemical and investigatory ways. She is also humanized more, as her long-running feud with her two older sisters, Ophelia (Feely) and Daphne (Daffy) is brought ever-more into the forefront, although the reason for it remains opaque (the sister’s insistence that Flavia is a Changeling – a fairy that had been left in place of a human stolen by other fairies – notwithstanding). And Flavia’s feelings towards Inspector Hewitt are expanded upon as he (I think) begins to take on the role of a substitute father in her eyes.

Oh, Herring has its problems, make no mistake, problems involving a Canadian author misstating New World terms for Old; thus, Flavia talks about “drapes” instead of “curtains”, or “faucets” instead of “taps” (but he does still get “Chesterfield” for “couch” correct but, seeing as he’s Canadian, that is to be expected). Also, Dr. Kissing is reintroduced in the book who just happened to witness an act from three years previous that just happens to blow the case open for Flavia. While I am willing to forgive the odd leap of faith for the sake of moving the story along, this particular jump would have one clearing the Grand Canyon in one go.

Well, enough gushing. I enjoyed A Red Herring Without Mustard as much as I enjoyed The Weed That Strings the Hangman’s Bag and The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, for all of its faults and mistakes. Would that all of the books I read had such engaging characters and interesting settings that made me want to read night after night – but not too quickly, mind you, for as of now, there are only seven books remaining featuring the divine Flavia de Luce. I sincerely hope that Alan Bradley continues to write these books for the foreseeable future, for I will be sad indeed to have to say farewell to my new favorite detective.

“Dracula: The Un-Dead”, by Dacre Stoker and Ian Holt

 

432 pages, Dutton, ISBN-13: 978-0525951292

I’ve probably mentioned this before, but I sure do miss Borders. Going there was a one-stop shopping experience for me, where there were books, CDs, DVDs and even food to be had in abundance. When it went belly-up in 2011 a little piece of me died. Oh, I still go to Barnes & Noble, although the vibe isn’t quite the same, and while 2^nd & Charles has gone a long ways towards filling that Borders gap in my soul, it’s still missed. Which is why when I was searching my bookshelves for something to read and I stumbled upon Dracula: The Un-Dead by Dacre (Dacre?) Stoker and Ian Holt and saw an old Borders clearance sticker on the front I got a little verklempt. Just a little, mind you (it also showed me how many books I still have to get to; one day, Dear Reader; I’ll get to them all one day). Looking for a little brain candy, I thought I’d finally crack the spine on this one.

Taking place 25 years after Dracula by Bram Stoker (reviewed on July 6^th, 2024), Dracula: The Un-Dead brings the old gang back together – Jonathan Harker, Mina Murray Harker, Jack Seward, Arthur Holmwood and even Abraham Van Helsing – along with some new faces – Quincey Harker, Jonathan and Mina’s son, Basarab, a Romanian actor who is taking Europe by storm, Countess Elizabeth Báthory de Ecsed, an immortal vampire (and evil, of course) and even Bram Stoker, himself (very meta, that). As I read on, I became more impressed with the writing, especially the characterizations. All of the people who survived the first book are present here, but changed and not a little scarred – especially the Harkers: Jonathan is an alcoholic who drinks to forget the torture he suffered at the hands of Dracula’s minions, while Mina appears not to have aged at all, a side effect from having almost been turned by Dracula, one that Jonathan resents.

Not everyone will like the differences between the heroes of Dracula and their iteration in this book, but to me they seemed to be realistic; they were, after all, mere mortals taking on an otherworldly evil and were left permanently damaged by it (their relative fates, meanwhile, may anger fans of the original book even more so). Other changes that Stoker and Holt have made is moving the action of the original book back from 1893 to 1888, in order to correspond with the Jack the Ripper murders in Whitechapel and, thus, add another element to their story. As to Stoker’s (Bram) appearance and how in the hell he wrote a work of fiction that just happened to accurately reflect “real-world” events, the author’s explanation was a neat, to say nothing of unexpected, twist on the original story (Stoker’s dying as he should, in 1912, neatly brings an end to this most meta of literary cameos).

There are issues with the book, as parts have a kind of “B Movie” vibe (for you losers: a low-budget film with subpar acting, writing, directing and so on, good enough to entertain but in no way a work of art). As an example of what I mean, vampires are safest in the shadows, better off making people believe that they are myths and, thus, in no way threats. And yet here we have Báthory strutting around in men’s clothing (in 1912, mind you) with her two vampiric gal-pals and riding in a driverless carriage, when they’re not attacking men in public with bared fangs and flashing swords. These sequences are so over the top as to be ridiculous. Or when…somebody is found impaled in Piccadilly Circus, as unsubtle a murder as one could imagine – and as difficult to pass off without anybody noticing, yet they manage it. Oh, and there’s sex, especially lesbian sex. Not a complaint; just an observation.

Furthermore, the entirety of the original book has, in Stoker and Holt’s hands, undergone the revisionist treatment, as the original motivations for Dracula are turned upside down in this sequel. Now, if someone had told me that this classic of gothic horror was essentially rewritten I would have thrown it into the trash in disdain. But I kept right on reading and found, overall, that I enjoyed the book, with all of my earlier provisos intact. Oh, and the vampires: one glaring fault is how one vampire in particular just keeps coming back in spite of the grievous injuries done to them repeatedly. No explanation given, no time given to rest and heal; they appear when they need to and fight as they have to. And the ending…two main characters meet their ultimate fates which I found to be unsatisfying to say the least, while the last chapter…well, I don’t know what the last chapter is for. I guess to definitively show that there will be no more sequels?

But as much as I feel that I should disdain this book…I don’t. There are fights and blood and guts and lesbo sex and riddles wrapped in mysteries inside enigmas – all-in-all a piece of entertaining escapism, which is just what I was looking for.

“Tudor: Passion. Manipulation. Murder. The Story of England’s Most Notorious Royal Family”, by Leanda de Lisle

 

576 pages, PublicAffairs, ISBN-13: 978-1610395458

This is one long-winded title, make no mistake, but Leanda de Lisle shows in Tudor: Passion. Manipulation. Murder. The Story of England’s Most Notorious Royal Family that every word is necessary in order to convey her point. A word of warning: if you’re looking for a book that goes into the infighting and interpersonal relationships of the Tudor royals and key members of their inner circles, then this book certainly delivers, but if you’re seeking a history of not only that, but their overall achievements and failures, then you'll need to look elsewhere, for de Lisle is heavily focused on the family and factional dynamics in and around the House of Tudor and on spotlighting the achievements of the respective Tudor reigns.

And when de Lisle says “Tudor” she means it: after recounting how this minor Welsh landowning family lost everything in 1399 when they backed Richard II against the usurping Henry IV – the first Lancastrian king of England – she tells the tale of Owen Tudor and his seduction of Henry V’s widow, Queen Catherine, thus setting the House of Tudor definitively on its onward and upward societal ascent. Many of the works I have read on the Tudors skip these details, but de Lisle reminds us of just how high this unlikely royal dynasty climbed and, subsequently, just how far they fell – good job, Elizabeth (hell, she even resurrects David Tudor, Owen Tudor’s last child, from obscurity; I had never heard of him before this book).

Naturally, when you attempt to discuss all of the Tudors at once you are left with a lot that is unsaid. This book is an overview of the Tudor era, and so much must be sacrificed; any hope of in-depth examinations of policies or philosophies must be jettisoned and left to other, more detailed works (there are a plethora of biographies on any of the personages mentioned in this book). But that’s okay: seeing the lives and reigns of one Tudor monarch flow into the next gave a sense of continuity that can be lacking in studies that focus on one monarch at a time and showed just how and why change came over the course of 16^th Century England. Nothing happens in a vacuum and showing the flow of history really solidified my understanding of the era.

Except for de Lisle’s using two very flimsy excuses from this period of history to lend us her personal opinion on two very modern, very polarizing issues, Tudor is history as it should be: engaging, complete and even entertaining – oh, and don’t skip the Appendices at the back.

“Encyclopedia Brown” by Donald J. Sobol

 

Bantam Skylark

Endless Quest, Choose Your Own Adventure, The Three Investigators…just some of the series of books that formed my adolescent library, but before all of those, there was Encyclopedia Brown by Donald J. Sobol. These were a series of mysteries featuring the adventures of boy detective Leroy Brown – or “Encyclopedia”, due to his phenomenal intelligence and wide-ranging knowledge. As to what drew me to these books, it was probably a combination of testing myself to see if I could figure out the mystery before E.B. did, combined with the joy of watching a young boy my own age showing up all the adults around him; I mean, what kid wouldn’t like to see that? Anyway, of the 29 books in the series (the first of which was published in 1963 while the last was published posthumously in 2012) the ones I read where:

 

Encyclopedia Brown, Boy Detective

Encyclopedia Brown Strikes Again

Encyclopedia Brown Finds the Clues

Encyclopedia Brown Gets His Man

Encyclopedia Brown Solves Them All

Encyclopedia Brown Keeps the Peace

Encyclopedia Brown Saves the Day

Encyclopedia Brown Tracks Them Down

Encyclopedia Brown Shows the Way

Encyclopedia Brown Takes the Case

Encyclopedia Brown Lends a Hand

Encyclopedia Brown and the Case of the Dead Eagles

Encyclopedia Brown and the Case of the Midnight Visitor

Encyclopedia Brown Carries On

Encyclopedia Brown Sets the Pace

 

Most of these stories I found in various omnibus editions that were printed and reprinted through the years, so I am uncertain as to the exact editions I read. But no matter; a simple Google search will bring up all sorts of volumes that are floating around out there. I wonder if modern kids would find interest in these books, seeing as they were written (most of them) in a different age in which technology hadn’t taken over our lives and brains still mattered. Perhaps; one can only hope. I just know that, whenever I solved one of the stories on my own I was thrilled and had to tell somebody of my achievement, that they of course celebrated in the most respectful manner. Yeah. Of course, the Encyclopedia Brown books were principally yet more bricks in the foundation of my education, and so have earned their place in my intellectual vault of gratitude.

“Charlotte’s Web”, by E. B. White, illustrated by Garth Williams

 

184 pages, Harper & Brothers, ISBN-13: 978-0545001889

I cannot for the life of me remember which Charlotte’s Web I encountered first: the book in Mrs. Roberts’ 4^th Grade class at Einstein Elementary or the cartoon adaptation by Hanna-Barbera. Anyway…Charlotte’s Web is, of course, a modern-day classic of children’s literature by E. B. White, a writer as well as a contributing editor to The New Yorker magazine. Everyone in class loved the book (I think), even me, a certified arachnophobe; if a guy who squishes spiders on sight can like a book in which a spider is the heroine then you know we are dealing with a writer of rare skill, indeed. So then, on with the review…

While getting ready for school one day, Fern Arable discovers that her father has set out to kill the runt of a new litter of piglets. Fern is determined that he should live and reasons with her father to spare the little pig, and he allows it on condition that Fern take care of it herself so it can grow strong (her father also hopes that Fern will learn how much work it is to take care of something so small). Fern names the little pig Wilbur, whom she adores and loves taking care of. Wilbur soon gets too big and must be sold to a neighboring farm and Fern visits Wilbur as often as she can, but he sometimes gets lonely, and none of the other animals will have much to do with him. That is until he makes a new friend at the farm in Charlotte, the spider whose web is in Wilbur’s pen. Wilbur soon discovers the farmer’s plans for him and that he may not live past winter time, but Charlotte promises to help Wilbur in his plight.

Who wouldn’t love a story about an adorable pig and one girl’s will to keep him alive? Charlotte’s Web is a fun and enjoyable read about the love one creature and have towards others and how this love can save a life – in this case, a pig’s life. E.B. White created many memorable characters (that just happen to be animals) but who are clearly drawn and recognizable. The story shows how growth and maturity can come from one’s actions throughout life, and how a strong sense of giving and community can be seen in the actions of all those involved. Selflessness is a reoccurring theme throughout the book, along with love and caring. The concept of the life cycle is brought up, as well, and the grade level is an appropriate one to cover various life cycle routines. Although everyone in class cried over Charlotte’s ultimate fate, White handled it in such a delicate way as to make it understandable and even a necessary part of living.

A mature story about life and love and sacrifice and what’s important in life, that’s actually aimed at kids, Charlotte’s Web is a work of literature that will stay with you throughout your life.

“Ragtime”, by E.L. Doctorow

 

336 pages, Random House, ISBN-13: 978-0812978186

Ragtime by E.L. Doctorow is…peculiar. Not bad. Just…peculiar. Allow me to elaborate. The novel features several real-life individuals who lived during the time the novel is set, in New York City between about 1902 through 1912, but centers especially on a (nameless) family living in New Rochelle, New York, referred to as Father, Mother, Mother’s Younger Brother, Grandfather and “the little boy”, Father and Mother’s young son. The family is wealthy because their business makes American flags and fireworks, an easy source of wealth due to the national enthusiasm for patriotic displays at this time.

The peculiarity comes in the way the novel is structured, in which a nameless narrator guides the reader through a series of events – some historical, some invented – that happens to and around this nameless family, but in a rambling, steam-of-consciousness fashion in which one sentence runs on into another and thoughts butt-up together without letup. I imagined our mysterious narrator to be an elderly person, sitting in a sun-lit room at the top of an old Queen Anne house – built sometime when these events occurred – rambling on about the glorious events that happened when he was still in knickers (probably Father and Mother’s young son from the book).

Doctorow’s style of writing in this book is rather journalistic: straightforward, direct and fluid, but with only sketchy character development, which is not surprising as the characters aren’t meant to be people but rather archetypes that represent ideals rather than persons. Overall, the book reads as if a progressive writer/reporter chose to highlight the eccentricities of the rich and famous (never mind their contributions to America) and romanticize the down-and-out, struggling underclass as victims of the rich, greedy, and mean-spirited. Tiresome and typical. Oh, and Doctorow evidently loves long paragraphs, seeing as there are so many of them.

So then, is Ragtime a bad book? Well…No, it’s just that, to reiterate, the structure is peculiar. To readjust my prior descriptions, it rather resembles a piece of ragtime music, which is syncopated; that is, a variety of rhythms are played together to make a piece of music, making part or all the music off-beat or “ragged”. And so in Ragtime, we have a series of fictional and historical scenarios and vignettes interweaved together to the rough, relentless beat of history – to the drive of the music; the book twists and jives from one event, one thought, one happening to another, never concerning itself where one ends and another begins, so long as the beat goes on.

“The Weed that Strings the Hangman’s Bag” by Alan Bradley

 

384 pages, Bantam Books, ISBN-13: 978-0385343459

The Weed that Strings the Hangman’s Bag by Alan Bradley is the sequel to The Sweetness At the Bottom of the Pie (reviewed last month) and once again stars everyone’s favorite precocious 11-year-old hellion, Flavia de Luce. As in Sweetness, Flavia is found running wild in her village of Bishop’s Lacey when beloved BBC puppeteer Rupert Porson (and his “companion” Nialla) arrive and set up shop – and all hell breaks loose. Once again finding herself not-so-reluctantly investigating not one murder, but two, our dangerously clever chemist-in-training endeavors to discover just what happened not only in her present day, but five years previously, when another seemingly unrelated tragedy rocked this most-English of villages.

While Sweetness started right out the gate with a murder in Chapter 2, Hangman’s takes more time to get going, with Flavia peddling ‘round on Gladys and giving exposition on the new visitors and the village, the happenings of several years prior and other character’s lives, both old and new. It isn’t boring, per se, and Flavia is never nothing if not interesting – although this time around her obvious need of adult supervision and discipline is more glaring and a smidge less charming (but only a smidge). When the vile act at last occurs and, thence, leads to the rediscovery of the death of a little boy five years previous – a little boy who, had he lived, would have been Flavia’s age – our favorite English answer to Nancy Drew comes alive and we are off to the races.

Hangman’s is a decent enough mystery, steeped in the sunny atmosphere of rural England after the War, but what makes it exceptional is, of course, Flavia. She is a wonderfully wrought character: dauntless, clever, manipulative and eccentric in the great English minor gentry tradition. She is fascinated by and skilled in making poisons, knows how to get people to tell things they would never otherwise reveal and relentless in her quest to find out who did what and why, if not to see justice done – no Crusader she – but to solve a problem as if it were a chemical equation. That she does so without the assistance of the police – indeed, independent of them – makes her all the more fascinating (and at times, I must admit, just a little…far-fetched. But just a little).

All of which makes her rather intimidating, which Flavia knows all too well; at one point, when she shows too much insight into the affairs of Nialla, the young woman she is helping, she says to her “You are terrifying…You really are. Do you know that?”, to which Flavia responds “Yes…[i]t was true – and there was no use denying it”. And, during the denouement, when Flavia reveals a crucial piece of information to Inspector Hewitt, he turns to his team and demands to know why they hadn’t discovered this, Sergeant Woolmer’s response is “With respect, sir…it could be because we’re not Miss De Luce”. Too true, Sarge, too true. If only all police forces had a Flavia on them crime would dry up in no time flat.

But Flavia is still a well-drawn character, as, for all of her ferocious intellect and startling preciosity, she is only an 11-year-old girl; observant enough to uncover an affair but innocent enough not to be entirely sure what is involved in such an undertaking. She is also a lonely girl without enough love in her life: her elder sisters treat her badly; her father is distant, repressed and as obsessed with stamps as Flavia is with poisons; her mother is dead and her only connection to her is to sit in the Rolls she owned or to ride the bike she used, which she has rechristened Gladys and treats as if it were sentient; there is also family jack-of-all-trades, Dogger, but he suffers from PTSD and isn’t always there, in every definition.

Flavia is not a girl who is trying to be anything other than what she is; above all she seems to be trying just to be herself which she does with great self-assurance. When she turns up late (again) and her father describes her as “Utterly unreliable” she thinks to herself: “Of course I was! It was one of the things I loved most about myself. Eleven-year-olds are supposed to be unreliable”. Quite. And she is willing to overstep the bounds of politeness and perhaps even decency to get the information she wants but is perfectly reconciled to that aspect of herself, saying, after out-right lying to someone to ferret out what she wants to know: “Sometimes I hated myself. But not for long”. No, never for long.