The Weed That Strings the Hangman’s Bag: A novel

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The Weed That Strings the Hangmans Bag: A novel

Product Description
Eleven-year-ancient Flavia de Luce didn’t intend to investigate another murder — but then, Rupert Porson didn’t intend to die. When the master puppeteer’s van breaks down in the village of Bishop’s Lacey, Flavia is front and centre to help Rupert and his charming assistant, Nialla, place together a performance in the local church to help pay the repair bill. But even as the newcomers set up camp and set the stage for Jack and the Beanstalk, there are signs that something just isn’t right: Nialla’s weird bruises and solitary cries in the churchyard, Rupert’s unexplained disappearances and a violent argument with his BBC producer, the disturbing atmosphere at Culverhouse Farm, and the peculiar goings-on in nearby Scaffold Wood — where young Robin Ingleby was establish hanging just five years before.

It’s enough to set Flavia’s detective instincts tingling and her chemistry lab humming. What are Rupert and Nialla trying to hide? Why are Grace and Gordon Ingleby, Robin’s still-grieving parents, acting so strangely? And what does Mad Meg mean when she says the Devil has come back to Scaffold Wood? Then it’s showtime for Porson’s Puppets at St. Tancred’s — but as Nialla plays Mother Goose, Rupert’s goose gets cooked as the victim of an electrocution that is too perfectly plotted to be an manufacturing accident. A name had set the stage for murder.

Putting down her sister-punishing experiments and alternative up her trusty bicycle, Gladys, Flavia uncovers long-buried secrets of Bishop’s Lacey, the seemingly idyllic village that is nevertheless home to a madwoman living in its woods, a prisoner-of-war with a soft spot for the English countryside, and two childless parents with a devastating secret. While the local police do their best to keep up with Flavia in solving Rupert’s murder, his killer may pull Flavia in way over her head, to a startling discovery that reveals the compound composition of vengeance.Amazon.com Review
Amazon Exclusive: An Essay by Alan Bradley

The Weed That Strings the Hangmans Bag: A novel

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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