"the sweetness at the bottom of the pie" -- book in review
summary: In his wickedly brilliant first novel, Debut Dagger Award winner Alan Bradley introduces one of the most singular and engaging heroines in recent fiction: eleven-year-old Flavia de Luce, an aspiring chemist with a passion for poison. It is the summer of 1950-- and a series of inexplicable events has struck Buckshaw, the decaying English mansion that Flavia's family calls home. A dead bird is found on the doorstep, a postage stamp bizarrely pinned to its beak. Hours later, Flavia finds a man lying in the cucumber patch and watches him as he takes his dying breath. For Flavia, who is both appalled and delighted, life begins in earnest when murder comes to Buckshaw. (as found on back of book)
author: Alan Bradley
published: 2009
pagecount: 370
i was drawn to this book initially for it's title. "the sweetness at the bottom of the pie". doesn't that just tickle the brain? so in my quest for my 2011 reads, i tracked down this book on barnes and noble and read the summary. ooh, a murder mystery? an eleven-year-old sleuth, with a love of chemistry? the inner child who will cling forever to nancy drew and the hardy boys cried out in joy. what a find! so i immediately added it to my long queue at the local library. now, i've come a long way since my seven-year-old self and it has been an equally long time since i've opened a mystery; these days it's been mostly romances and fairy tales, vampires and beasties -- oh lord what i have become! needless to say it was high time i returned to my roots -- which meant taking a detour from bayport and river heights and heading to england, where a charming little girl literally stumbles upon a murder mystery and more out of pure curiosity (and perhaps a little bit of spite at being dismissed so quickly by official detectives) decides to solve the case of the dead man. all said and done, i am glad i took the trip.
excerpt:
"I pretended I was the boy Father must have always wanted: a son he could take to Scotland for salmon fishing and grouse shooting on the moors; a son he could send out to Canada to take up ice hockey. Not that Father did any of these things, but if he'd had a son, I liked to think he might have done.
My middle name should have been Laurence, like his, and when we were alone together he'd have called me Larry. How keenly disappointed he must have been when all of us had come out girls.
Had I been too cruel to that horror, Miss Mountjoy? Too vindictive? Wasn't she, after all, just a harmless and lonely old spinster? Would a Larry de Luce have been more understanding?
'Hell, no!' I shouted into the wind..."
story/plot: (5/5)
this is a mystery to beat the band. well-crafted interactions and clues, folded in carefully and with the skill of a master, produce a most delicious read. while some important parts and people are slow to be revealed, its not an agonizing or miss-timed wait -- and its not without reward. it was very easy to understand the exhilaration and sometimes exasperation of flavia, because i too was right there beside her, flying down the country roads as she searched out a lead or idea. tossed to and fro from culprit and clue (ofttimes battling time or frustratingly-nosy neighbors) we finally reach the truth, and end which is both surprising (although solvable, if you have any mind for these things) and filling. as flavia solves the mystery, i feel as though i solved it too.
notability: (originality, believability, characters, world... etc) (5/5)
i think to say that the driving force of this novel is anything but flavia de luce would be a lie. i hate to fall in with the general masses but i cannot disagree with their description of her. at eleven-years-old, she is still everything i, at 23, would love to be. spunky, bright, brilliant, endearing, cheeky... all these things and more. her knowledge of chemistry (specifically her absolute love for all things poisonous) had me both in awe and sometimes, in complete bafflement. knowing only what i have already forgotten from my high school course, i blundered my way through it... wishing i had the internet to explain to me the epic workings of her prized laboratory. however, this was not a deterrent; if anything, her passionate ramblings and parallels of evaluation to her true love had me captivated and if i sought more understanding, it was only to be closer to her. it was almost as if i could see her standing there, talking animatedly, with that devilish spark in her eye. in truth: when i grow up, i want to be flavia de luce.
the other characters, namely flavia's father, the colonel, her two sisters, ophelia and daphne, and her father's utterly loyal gardener/everything man, dogger, were just as well-established and deserve honorable mention. although given significantly less page-time than flavia, they are as much a part of her as anything else. dogger especially won my heart with his occasional memory loss (due to the unmentionable happenings of the war) and heartwarming camaraderie with flavia.
the world of 1950's england is absolutely lovely if it is even half as wonderful as described in alan bradley's novel. a land caught in the aftermath of world war 2, centering around a slightly dysfunctional family, told through the voice of a splendid girl drew me in and never let go. the author's masterful mix of history and fiction has me completely unsure what is or is not truth but not really caring either way. in addition to chemistry, there are in-depth discussions of stamps (the fervent obsession of flavia's father), classic novels (a vice of daphne), the art of self-absorbtion (yes, dear ophelia), and the secret longing for a long-gone mother. all are handled with ease and emotion by alan, a man who has obviously done his research... or perhaps he simply loves stamps as well.
writing/format: (5/5)
alan bradley is a master. i still have a very hard time believing that he wrote this tale only two years ago. his exceptional style and detail have a much heartier bite than most of his peers. many times i was reminded of classic greats: sir conan doyle (if sherlock was an eleven-year-old girl...) and charles dickens... there is not a line in this book that didn't satisfy my book-worm-ness. his describings evoke images and scenes, his storytelling is rich and captivating, his dialogue full and witty. there isn't a part of this that wasn't masterfully-crafted. i am willing to admit that he has, in the course of one book, become one of my top favorite authors.
if i could say there was a challenge for me with 'the sweetness at the bottom of the pie' it was that my view of the british are either as everyday, ordinary, 21st century humans... or as bodice-wearing, horse-drawn carriage riding, jane austen-esque victorians. its almost like a culture shock to my mind to find anything in-between. of course, britian (like every other country) did not magically skip a few centuries, they lived through them -all the years and whatever came with them- like everyone else. of course there was a 1950's england, and flavia de luce lived there. yet when things like rolls royces and telephones popped up, i would have to take a moment and remember the setting and then continue onward. this is no testament to the author -in truth he mastered this entire novel with more wit and history and brillance than can even be said- but perhaps only to my complete americanism. i am ashamed.
in final:
this is a splendid little read. all the elements of it work together brilliantly. if i get the chance (and i suspect i shall) i will visit flavia de luce again... a girl such as her would never consent to being locked away in some author's head without having a little more to say.
<< next read >>
"i am number four" by pittacus lore
author: Alan Bradley
published: 2009
pagecount: 370
i was drawn to this book initially for it's title. "the sweetness at the bottom of the pie". doesn't that just tickle the brain? so in my quest for my 2011 reads, i tracked down this book on barnes and noble and read the summary. ooh, a murder mystery? an eleven-year-old sleuth, with a love of chemistry? the inner child who will cling forever to nancy drew and the hardy boys cried out in joy. what a find! so i immediately added it to my long queue at the local library. now, i've come a long way since my seven-year-old self and it has been an equally long time since i've opened a mystery; these days it's been mostly romances and fairy tales, vampires and beasties -- oh lord what i have become! needless to say it was high time i returned to my roots -- which meant taking a detour from bayport and river heights and heading to england, where a charming little girl literally stumbles upon a murder mystery and more out of pure curiosity (and perhaps a little bit of spite at being dismissed so quickly by official detectives) decides to solve the case of the dead man. all said and done, i am glad i took the trip.
excerpt:
"I pretended I was the boy Father must have always wanted: a son he could take to Scotland for salmon fishing and grouse shooting on the moors; a son he could send out to Canada to take up ice hockey. Not that Father did any of these things, but if he'd had a son, I liked to think he might have done.
My middle name should have been Laurence, like his, and when we were alone together he'd have called me Larry. How keenly disappointed he must have been when all of us had come out girls.
Had I been too cruel to that horror, Miss Mountjoy? Too vindictive? Wasn't she, after all, just a harmless and lonely old spinster? Would a Larry de Luce have been more understanding?
'Hell, no!' I shouted into the wind..."
story/plot: (5/5)
this is a mystery to beat the band. well-crafted interactions and clues, folded in carefully and with the skill of a master, produce a most delicious read. while some important parts and people are slow to be revealed, its not an agonizing or miss-timed wait -- and its not without reward. it was very easy to understand the exhilaration and sometimes exasperation of flavia, because i too was right there beside her, flying down the country roads as she searched out a lead or idea. tossed to and fro from culprit and clue (ofttimes battling time or frustratingly-nosy neighbors) we finally reach the truth, and end which is both surprising (although solvable, if you have any mind for these things) and filling. as flavia solves the mystery, i feel as though i solved it too.
notability: (originality, believability, characters, world... etc) (5/5)
i think to say that the driving force of this novel is anything but flavia de luce would be a lie. i hate to fall in with the general masses but i cannot disagree with their description of her. at eleven-years-old, she is still everything i, at 23, would love to be. spunky, bright, brilliant, endearing, cheeky... all these things and more. her knowledge of chemistry (specifically her absolute love for all things poisonous) had me both in awe and sometimes, in complete bafflement. knowing only what i have already forgotten from my high school course, i blundered my way through it... wishing i had the internet to explain to me the epic workings of her prized laboratory. however, this was not a deterrent; if anything, her passionate ramblings and parallels of evaluation to her true love had me captivated and if i sought more understanding, it was only to be closer to her. it was almost as if i could see her standing there, talking animatedly, with that devilish spark in her eye. in truth: when i grow up, i want to be flavia de luce.
the other characters, namely flavia's father, the colonel, her two sisters, ophelia and daphne, and her father's utterly loyal gardener/everything man, dogger, were just as well-established and deserve honorable mention. although given significantly less page-time than flavia, they are as much a part of her as anything else. dogger especially won my heart with his occasional memory loss (due to the unmentionable happenings of the war) and heartwarming camaraderie with flavia.
the world of 1950's england is absolutely lovely if it is even half as wonderful as described in alan bradley's novel. a land caught in the aftermath of world war 2, centering around a slightly dysfunctional family, told through the voice of a splendid girl drew me in and never let go. the author's masterful mix of history and fiction has me completely unsure what is or is not truth but not really caring either way. in addition to chemistry, there are in-depth discussions of stamps (the fervent obsession of flavia's father), classic novels (a vice of daphne), the art of self-absorbtion (yes, dear ophelia), and the secret longing for a long-gone mother. all are handled with ease and emotion by alan, a man who has obviously done his research... or perhaps he simply loves stamps as well.
writing/format: (5/5)
alan bradley is a master. i still have a very hard time believing that he wrote this tale only two years ago. his exceptional style and detail have a much heartier bite than most of his peers. many times i was reminded of classic greats: sir conan doyle (if sherlock was an eleven-year-old girl...) and charles dickens... there is not a line in this book that didn't satisfy my book-worm-ness. his describings evoke images and scenes, his storytelling is rich and captivating, his dialogue full and witty. there isn't a part of this that wasn't masterfully-crafted. i am willing to admit that he has, in the course of one book, become one of my top favorite authors.
if i could say there was a challenge for me with 'the sweetness at the bottom of the pie' it was that my view of the british are either as everyday, ordinary, 21st century humans... or as bodice-wearing, horse-drawn carriage riding, jane austen-esque victorians. its almost like a culture shock to my mind to find anything in-between. of course, britian (like every other country) did not magically skip a few centuries, they lived through them -all the years and whatever came with them- like everyone else. of course there was a 1950's england, and flavia de luce lived there. yet when things like rolls royces and telephones popped up, i would have to take a moment and remember the setting and then continue onward. this is no testament to the author -in truth he mastered this entire novel with more wit and history and brillance than can even be said- but perhaps only to my complete americanism. i am ashamed.
in final:
this is a splendid little read. all the elements of it work together brilliantly. if i get the chance (and i suspect i shall) i will visit flavia de luce again... a girl such as her would never consent to being locked away in some author's head without having a little more to say.
<< next read >>
"i am number four" by pittacus lore