Monday, September 1, 2014
Speaking from Among the Bones (2013) Alan Bradley
Meanwhile, the vicar is excavating the bones of Saint Tancred, on the 500th anniversary of his martyrdom. But as much as some people want the bones excavated, others–including the bishop–do not. Which means everyone in the village is in turmoil.
As always, the book is full of delightful tidbits that Flavia as picked up and dispenses as she pleases.
Once out of sight, I trudged upward, recalling that ancient stairs in castles and churches wind in a clockwise direction as you ascend, so that an attacker, climbing the stairs, is forced to hold his sword in his left hand, while the defender, fighting downward, is able to use his right, and usually superior, hand.
You could feel the thaw. In an instant, the temperature in the church went up by at least 10 degrees Celsius (or 283 degrees Kelvin).
But mostly, Flavia is Flavia.
I flipped on the switch marked “Shuddering Sobs,” but nothing came. Damnation! I used to be a dab hand at water on demand. What on earth was happening to me? Was I becoming hardened? Was this what being twelve was going to be like?
This was no ordinary household skeleton key, but one of the patent Yale variety. Whoever had this lock installed had meant to keep people out. Odd, though, that they should leave the key so handily under a broken flowerpot.
That is, of course, something I’ve never understood myself.
The book ended on a bit of a cliff-hanger, which I never love, but you’ll have that, I suppose.
Published by Delacorte Press