Eleven-year-old Flavia is off to solve another murder mystery once again. After she accidentally burns down the tent of the Gypsy fortune-teller Fenella, a series of events follow, that includes finding a dead body hanging from the trench of a sculpture of Poseidon. With nothing but her bicycle Gladys in tow, Flavia sleuths around her interesting neighborhood of Bishop's Lacey, asks endless questions, and once again cracks the investigation with absolute charm. In this third book of the Flavia de Luce Mystery series, the author gives a poignant glimpse of Flavia's mother Hariet, who died soon after she was born.
'"You frighten me," the Gypsy said. "Never have I seen my crystal ball so filled with darkness.'(opening lines)
'I had already learned that sisterhood, like Loch Ness, has things that lurk unseen beneath the surface, but I think it was only now that I realized that of all the the invisible strings that tied the three of us together, the dark ones were the strongest.'(41)
'Once, when we were lying on the south lawn looking up into the blue vault of a perfect summer sky, I had suggested to Feely that Father's quest for imperfections was not limited to stamps, but was sometimes expanded to include his daughters.'(45)
'I'd learned quite early in life that the mind loves nothing better than to spook itself with outlandish stories, as if the various coils of the brain were no more than a troop of roly-poly Girl Guides huddled over a campfire in the darkness of the skull.'(69)
'Alone at last! Whenever I'm with other people, part of me shrinks a little. Only when I am alone can I fully enjoy my own company.'(102)
'I have no fear of the dead. Indeed, in my own limited experience I have found them to produce in me a feeling that is quite the opposite of fear. A dead body is much more fascinating than a live one, and I have learned that more corpses tell better stories.'(114)
'Love's not some bug river that flows on and on forever, and if you believe it is, you're a bloody fool. It can be clammed up until nothing's left but a trickle..."(155)
'I had long ago discovered that when a word or formula refused to come to mind, the best thing for it was to think of something else: tigers, for instance, or oatmeal. Then, when the fugitive word was least expecting it, I would suddenly turn the full blaze of my attention back onto it, catching the culprit in the beam of my mental torch before it could sneak off again into the darkness.... "Thought-stalking," I called the technique, and I was proud of myself for having invented it.'(180)
'Spring water, I knew, was a remarkable chemical soup: calcium, magnesium, potassium, iron, and assorted salts and sulphates. I grabbed the battered old iron tin cup that hung from a chain, scooped it full of the burbling water, and drank until I thought I could feel my bones strengthening.'(250)
'Our September breakfast menu had been in force for almost two weeks now, and the base of my tongue shrank back a little as Mrs. Mullet brought to the table what I thought of as our daily ration of T.O.A.D.
Toast
Oatmeal
Apple Juice
Dates
The dates stewed and served with cold clotted cream, were another of Mrs. Mullet's culinary atrocities. They looked and tasted like something that had been stolen from a coffin in a midnight churchyard.'(263)
'I think there must be a kind of courage that comes from not being able to make up your mind.'(273)
a Delacorte Press Hardcover Edition
399 pages
Book borrowed from the library
Book qualifies for:100+ Reading Challenge
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