Dig Deep: The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie

Reviewed by Jeanne

Recently, I read a question posted online that asked readers which they preferred, a writer or a storyteller. I didn’t respond, but if I had, I would have said that it depended: if I wanted to escape for a couple of hours, give me a storyteller who would make the time fly by. If I were on a desert island and had but one book, I think I’d prefer a writer, one whose phrases would make me stop and ponder or delight me with wordplay.

For me, The Sweetness in the Bottom of the Pie fulfills both requirements. This first novel by Alan Bradley has memorable characters, an intriguing plot and a fine way with a phrase. I found myself chortling over line after line, hoping that I would remember to use some of these at some point in the future. Perhaps I should have taken notes.

The story is narrated by Flavia de Luce, a precocious eleven year old with a passion for chemistry, especially poisons. She has two insufferable older sisters, Daphne and Ophelia, and an emotionally distant father who spends his days with his stamp collection. They live in Buckshaw, an aging manor house in a village in 1950s England where things are not so much dull as ordinary. The first hint that something is amiss is the discovery of a dead bird on the doorstep, a postage stamp stuck on its bill.

The next morning, Flavia arises early and slips out to the garden only to find a man dying amid the cucumber vines.

Flavia is thrilled.

So begins one of the freshest, wittiest mysteries I’ve read in quite some time. While some reviewers have complained that Flavia is far too sophisticated for a child, I found her to be a delight. She has an impressive vocabulary and wide knowledge of literature and music, but she reacts as a child. Certain subtleties elude her, such as the nuances of romance. She concocts elaborate plots to extract revenge on Feely and Daffy, goes for long and glorious rides on Gladys (her bicycle), and pokes her nose into everybody’s business. She’s a British version of Harriet the Spy, albeit with murder. I don’t know that I’d like Flavia for a relative or a neighbor, but I certainly enjoyed her antics from afar, and I have no doubt she would object to the word “antics.” Most of the other characters are seen through Flavia’s filter, but the author still gives them the room to surprise his heroine. There is also a definite old- fashioned feel to the series; I actually would have thought earlier than the 50s if the author hadn’t given some dates to the contrary.

I hated to see this romp come to its exciting end, and am awaiting my turn to read the sequel, The Weed That Strings the Hangman’s Bag (F BRA Main).