The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie

Let me just say this, I adore Flavia de Luce. And The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie is impeccable. I had not even heard of this book before Christmas, when my lovely brother gave a copy of it to me. I quietly sat, taking off the wrapping paper, reading the back, and then, for some reason or another, I got all huffy. 'Why have I never heard of this? It makes no sense! It is completely down my alley!' Which is true. If I actually owned an alley, you can rest assured, this book would be smack on it.

And so, once I finished my other 'Alan' book (The Clothes They Stood Up In & The Lady in the Van, which was magnificent, by the way -- as was The Uncommon Reader), I picked it up. And right off, I began wondering. Must one actually be called Alan in order to be a brilliant writer? It begs to be asked. Because I was only a few pages in when, again, I got all huffy and began demanding to know why I cannot, in fact, write like that. It is very annoying! Anyway, I digress. Let's get back to Flavia, shall we?

The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie takes place in a small village in England during the summer of 1950. Flavia de Luce is eleven years old. She is obsessed with chemistry (poisons in particular) and is shockingly bright. Flavia has two older sisters, Daphne and Ophelia, with whom she is consistently trying to 'get back', as it were. Nothing too terrible, just injecting Poison Ivy into her sister's tube of lipstick and then anxiously watching for the results, for example.

Anyway, without giving too much away, a death occurs late one night at Buckshaw, the old castle where the de Luce family lives, and has for centuries. Shortly thereafter, Flavia's father is taken in to custody. Flavia then sets off (quite literally, as she rides her bike Gladys practically throughout the whole of the English countryside) to get to the bottom of it. It's marvelous. And parts of the book will make you roar with laughter.

I suppose I could sit here all day recounting scene after scene in order to illustrate this point, but alas, this chair is too hard. Besides, I think you should just read the book. That being said, I cannot resist but two scenes in particular.

Mrs. Mullet is a terrible cook, which is unfortunate as that is her job with the de Luce family. She also drives Flavia batty. However, she has been with the family for so long, and so on and so forth... Anyway, while the Inspector interviews Flavia, Mrs. Mullet brings her some seed biscuits and milk. 'Seed biscuits and milk! I hated Mrs. Mullets seed biscuits the way Saint Paul hated sin. Perhaps even more so. I wanted to clamber up onto the table, and with a sausage on the end of my fork as my scepter, shout in my best Laurence Olivier voice, "Will no one rid me of this turbulent pastry cook?"'

And the scene in church (pages 114-115, if you are interested) is beyond perfect. Apparently the de Luce's have been Catholics 'since Chariot races were all the rage.' However, they go to St. Tancred's Anglican Church because it is so much more convenient. Oh, I can't do it justice. After all, my name isn't Alan, so what do you want? Just go and read it yourself. You will nearly cry with laughter. And if you don't then you have no sense of humor.

Anyway, the next Flavia de Luce installment is hot off the press. I very happily discovered my copy in the mailbox today. (The Weed That Strings the Hangman's Bag, with a picture of a 'cary 'keleton on the front, as Miss Milia pointed out.) And I simply cannot wait.