The Weed That Strings the Hangman’s Bag: A Flavia de Luce Mystery
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- ISBN13: 9780385342315
- Condition: NEW
- Notes: Brand New from Publisher. No Remainder Mark.
Product Description
From Dagger Award–winning and internationally bestselling leader Alan Bradley comes this utterly beguiling mystery starring one of fiction’s most remarkable sleuths: Flavia de Luce, a dangerously brilliant eleven-year-ancient with a passion for chemistry and a genius for solving murders. This time, Flavia finds herself untangling two deaths—separated by time but linked by the unlikeliest of threads.
Flavia thinks that her days of crime-solving in the bucolic English hamlet of Bishop’s Lacy are over—and then Rupert Porson has an unfortunate rendezvous with electricity. The beloved puppeteer has had his own strings sizzled, but who’d do such a thing and why? For Flavia, the questions are intriguing enough to make her place aside her chemistry experiments and schemes of vengeance against her insufferable huge sisters. Astride Gladys, her trusty bicycle, Flavia sets out from the de Luces’ crumbling family tree mansion in search of Bishop’s Lacey’s deadliest secrets.
Does the madwoman who lives in Scaffold Wood know more than she’s letting on? What of the vicar’s odd ministrations to the catatonic woman in the dovecote? Then there’s a German pilot obsessed with the Brontë sisters, a reproachful spinster aunt, and even a box of poisoned chocolates. Most troubling of all is Porson’s assistant, the charming but erratic Nialla. All clues point toward a suspicious death years earlier and a case the local constables can’t solve—lacking Flavia’s help. But in getting so close to who’s secretly pulling the strings of this dance of death, has our precocious heroine finally gotten in way over her head?
Amazon.com Review
Amazon Exclusive: An Essay by Alan Bradley
Flavia de Luce walked into my life one winter day, parked herself on a campstool, and refused to be budged.
It took me reasonably a while to realize that she wasn’t even faintly interested in the mystery novel I was attempting to write at the time: the one into which she had wandered. I establish out quickly enough that Flavia wanted her own book–and that was that.
And it was just the beginning. There were still more problems to come.
The first was this: Flavia lived in 1950, while I was writing about her in 2006 and 2007.
As an leader, it’s not as simple as you might reflect projecting–and keeping–your mind in a different century from your body–not lacking forever being yanked back into the present by everyday annoyances such as frozen water pipes, expiring license plates, relentlessly barking dogs, and the need to shop for food.
Another problem was this: I lived on Canada’s west coast, where the clocks are set to Pacific Time, while Flavia lived in Bishop’s Lacey, England, which is on Greenwich Mean Time–a difference of nine hours. In practical terms, this meant that Flavia was raring to go every day just as I was getting ready for bed. Because there was no point in either of us being tired and cranky, we finally managed to work out a compromise in which I started awakening at 4:00 a.m. to write, while Flavia (rather impatiently) hung around until after lunch, waiting for me to show up.
As The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie progressed, I soon learned that Flavia wouldn’t be pushed around–especially by me. Because she had so many of her own thoughts, she had small patience with mine. Occasionally, if I were tired, I’d find myself trying to place words in her mouth: to push her, as it were. But Flavia would have none of it.
“Blot that,” she seemed to be adage. “Let’s back up and start again.”
And of course we did.
Then there was the problem of the chemistry. While Flavia knew everything about chemistry that could be known, my own knowledge of the theme could be place into a thimble with room left over for a finger. If I protested that I was in doubt about the precise details of one of her more bizarre compound experiments, Flavia would snap her metaphorical fingers and say, “Well, you can look it up in your spare time.”
Nearly from the outset I realized that the tale Flavia had to tell could never be contained in a single book. And that’s how the series was born. Fortunately, my editors were in total agreement!
We liked the thought of each book revolving around some now-vanished English custom, or way of life, and of being able, gradually, to get to know the de Luce family tree, giving each of them the time and the space to–eventually–tell his or her own tale.
Of course, to convey authentic 1950s voices, the pacing would have to be slower than we are used to in the 21st century. On the additional hand, a more relaxed narrative would allow for an additional overall fruitfulness of description that might not be establish in a more breakneck series of thrillers.
But I needn’t have apprehensive: Flavia had her own voice and insisted on being listened to.
It was I who had to do the learning. –Alan Bradley
(Photo © Shirley Bradley)
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The might of this series is the absolutely delightful character of 11 year ancient detective Flavia de Luce. Everything about Flavia is amusing and engaging– her like of poisons, her tenaciousness, her battle of wits with sisters, her longing to know more about her mother, and her precocious self-confidence and spunk.
This second installment of Flavia’s adventures is even better than the first (The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie: A Flavia de Luce Mystery. Characters are more fully developed, the setting comes alive with new characters and dilemmas (including the effort to save the family tree’s home), and the mystery at the center of the plot is clever and appealing.
But the real pleasure of this book is charming, unexpected, and original Flavia. I can’t wait for her next adventure.
Reader’s Rating: 5 / 5
I judge this is Alan Bradley’s second mystery with Flavia de Luce as the
star mystery-solver. I did not read the first book, and that was not a
problem at all with getting satisfyingly into this one. I expect it would be
fantastic to read, though.
Flavia’s age 11 would place her in the pre-teenage group, rather a
fascinating age. I don’t recall ever reading a mystery before with the main sleuth this age. It makes for an appealing point of view, especially with her
intricate and pretty excellent lifestyle.
Set in England at the time television was a new thing, this book takes us
to a different place. That’s a excellent thing in a book, especially when going
to a place like this one.
The plot has twists and turns, and Flavia is reasonably an practiced on poisons.
Her age shows in how she thinks up poisoning schemes, and her excellent character
shows in how she doesn’t harm people with them. Well, not much, anyway…
I reflect I would classify this as a cozy. It’s a fantastic one, truly fantastic.
Reader’s Rating: 5 / 5
i’m reading this book on my kindle and i’m nearly one-fifth of the way through it and i’m still waiting for something to take place. i loved “sweetness at the bottom of the pie” very much but, so far, i’m extremely bored with this sequel. i’ll keep reading in the hope that a plot may finally appear.
Reader’s Rating: 3 / 5
It’s permanently so refreshing to read a book that is not the predictable cookie-cutter stuff. One with a main character who is just unadorned, ancient-fashioned fun and a tale that keeps you guessing. As with his first novel, “The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie”, Alan Bradley has such a tale here.
The second book in a (reported) six-book series, “The Weed That Strings the Hangman’s Bag” carries on a fleeting while after Sweetness. Flavia de Luce is 11, still extremely precocious, and still (if not more so) mucking about with her precious chemistry. Of course, if said chemistry involves poison of *any* sort, then that makes for an even better time. As before, Flavia stumbles into a murder mystery, though this one is a bit more intricate than the last. But, as a brilliant 11-year-ancient girl, she is able to go places that even the Inspector cannot. This time, the death involves a legendary puppeteer, who dies mid-performance after his van breaks down in Flavia’s village. With her fascination for death, and her child’s talent for being in the middle of absolutely everything, Flavia decides she must find out who killed Rupert Porson and why.
I keenly awaited this sequel, having painstakingly loved my first visit with Flavia. My anticipation was heartily rewarded. The tale was quick-moving and entertaining, and reading a tale about Flavia is like spending time with a particularly vexing friend. The ending was not something I anticipated, and left me reading (far past my bedtime!) with my mouth hanging open to end the last bit (explanations, you know).
I can honestly say that I don’t recommend many books I read to many people – there are far too few that truly touch me. But, I can honestly say that I’ve recommended the first book (and will carry on with this one) to several people. With so much going on in the real world, and so many lukewarm or heavy-handed books, I reasonably delight in just sitting down and having a bit of fun with a girl who makes a fantastic companion for the journey.
Reader’s Rating: 5 / 5
I waited to start reading “Weed” till I’d finished the first of the series, “Sweetness in the bottom of the pie.” This volume seems better. It’s more tightly written with a more perceptible whodunit plot that will satisfy more mystery readers.
As additional reviewers pointed out, Bradley offers a meticulous glimpse of England in the early 1950s. It’s like Brideshead Revisited once more, as we realize memories of the war are still very fresh. Even a few prisoners of war are hanging about…well, at least one very charming one.
This delightful romp starts when a puppeteer comes to town. The vicar encourages them to place on a puppet show to earn money to repair their broken van. It turns out that the puppeteer really is a legendary BBC performer with a checkered past. His arrival in the village may be more than coincidence…and may hold the key to some unsolved mysteries.
Flavia De Luce, riding her trusty bicycle Gladys, takes the reader through the entire village as she learns more about the newcomers. She starts detecting in earnest when a name is killed and she immediately senses it’s a murder, not an manufacturing accident. For background we meet Flavia’s family tree, which seems odd rather than dysfunctional. Flavia’s sisters either snub her or torture her, mentally or physically. She bounces back with her knowledge of chemistry.
Ultimately the success of this book depends on how the reader perceives Flavia De Luce, now eleven years ancient, a precocious budding chemist who makes her own joy by solving mysteries and mixing substances in her fortuitously located chemistry lab. She’s an Eloise turned loose in an English village…larger than life and you don’t want to reflect about realism and probability.
I particular admire Flavia’s nearly improbable thick skin. She lives with a father who’s distant at best and two sisters who despise her for reasons she herself doesn’t know. She has no friends her own age. The family tree housekeeper serves unappetizing meals. She’s permanently on her toes, knowing how to ingratiate herself with everyone in the Village. She picks up “female only” messages. Yet somehow she says she doesn’t know what we used to call the facts of life.
Reader’s Rating: 5 / 5