Brief Notes

So, it has taken me many, many moons to get my hands on the library's copy of The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, by Alan Bradley.

I kept waiting for the list to go down, but it only kept getting bigger (at least, it was always longer whenever I remembered to check). I finally put myself on it after I saw a used copy at the Harvard Bookstore at lunch, went back to work, saw I'd be #8 in the list or something like that (and everyone gets 10-14 days at that point, I think), went back after work, and the d*mn thing was gone.

And then it was completely sold out at the Dallas airport bookstore a week or so later (I had almost picked up the used copy, despite knowing I had access via the library, because I wanted paperbacks for the plane), which the saleswoman wandering around knew immediately, as soon as I got half the name out.

And now I need to give the library copy back, so I need to jot down some thoughts.

1) Meh. There were some funny bits, but overall, not sure why this is so highly regarded. The main premise, an eleven-year old girl in post-war (WWII) England is a genius chemist and solves a murder) is certainly clever and original. And, as I say, some amusing characters, lines, and moments. But it's not fantastic writing, or the most original story (I know I just said it was, but...it is and it isn't. The trappings - not to be dismissive - are, but the mystery itself isn't anything special).

2) I marked a page, seemingly to follow up on if there is a "Prince Knick-Knack of Ali-Kazaam" and, if so, what he is...  There's also a funny bit about "the exchange of a wife for a pair of gates" here (p. 74*), but I don't think that's what I was noting.

3) This is funny and very true (the girl part, that is), and points to the male author for getting it, I guess:
"I detected instantly that she didn't like me. It's a fact of life that a girl can tell in a flash if another girl likes her. Feely says that there is a broken telephone connection between men and women, and we can never know which of us rang off. With a boy you never know whether he's smitten or gagging, but with a girl you can tell in the first three seconds. Between girls there is a silent and unending flow of invisible signals, like the high-frequency wireless messages between the shore and the ships at sea, and this secret flow of dots and dashes was signaling that Mary didn't like me" (85).

4) Flavia, the main character, describes the smell of insulin: "as if someone had dropped vinegar on the back of a sticking plaster: an acrid protein smell, like an alcoholic's hair burning in the next room" (90).
Now, Bradley apparently has never met a simile, or a metaphor for that matter, that he doesn't like - and want to use. You could say that the book is as studded with super-descriptive similes (meaning that there is lots of description, not so much that they are very descriptive/evocative) as a raisin-stuffed Christmas pudding. If you were a total, nerdy d-bag. But anyhow. LOTS of similes, metaphors, extraordinarily wordy descriptions; too much, to my mind.
However, I did appreciate when they referred to the smell/appearance/taste/general "ness" of chemical reactions, solutions, etc. Then it gave flavor to the book, and gave us a view into Flavia's brain and world. The word-pictures of the setting, not so effective. This insulin description, specifically, really struck me: I've never smelled insulin (it goes straight from the rubber-stoppered vial into my body, via a syringe of some kind), but it makes sense to me. Even if it doesn't "really" smell like that, it sounds/feel real, which may not be all that matters, but it matters. And it sounds great.

5) Flavia recounts: "There were far too many books to search, so I tried to think of which of them would be least likely to be into. Of course! The Bible!" (146). Yeah. Trying too hard, Bradley. This quote may not make any sense out of context, but it's very representative of the general tone he's going for, and while the tone does make sense given the time period and the book generally, he lays it on rather thickly throughout. This is just a good example - it's funny, but...he needs to relax and give his writing some space. I think that's actually true of the whole book, in many aspects. There's good stuff there, but he kind of forces it.

6) What exactly is ormulu? Other than something clock-y?

7) Is The Awful Disclosures of Maria Monk a real book? If so, what is it?

8) Is "Wormwood Scrubs" a real place/thing? If so, etc.

9) "It is not unknown for fathers with a brace of daughters to reel off their names in order of birth when summoning the youngest, and I had long ago become accustomed to being called 'Ophelia Daphne Flavia, damn it' (200). Okay, this made me laugh. Mostly because I remember Mom, when she was distracted/busy/stressed, when we were little, frequently calling for (or chastising) "Matt, Nate, whoever you are" or, my favorite, adding the dog's name in: "Matt, Nate, Quentin - whoever you are!"

10) Quod erat demonstradum. Q.E.D.

11) Black Hole of Calcutta

Overall, I will probably read at least one more book in the series, but I am not especially captivated.

*read the Delacorte Press, May 2009, hardcover (ISBN 978-0-385-34230-8)