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About Jaclyn

Reader, writer, bookaholic for life!

Review | The Chronicles of Harris Burdick, Chris Van Allsburg et al

“The story of Harris Burdick is a story everybody knows,” Lemony Snicket writes in his introduction to The Chronicles of Harris Burdick, “though there is hardly anything to be known about him.” Over fifty years ago, a man named Harris Burdick appeared at the office of children’s book publisher Peter Wenders. Burdick brought with him fourteen illustrations with captions and left, promising to return with the full stories the next day. No one ever saw Burdick again.

Truth be told, I wasn’t familiar with the legend of Harris Burdick, and immediately Googled him — surely, there must have been some clue about what happened to him? Turns out, he is a creation from the mind of children’s book author and illustrator Chris van Allsburg (also the genius behind the classic The Polar Express). I was somewhat disappointed at this discovery, but I was also in awe of van Allsburg’s imagination. What a marvellous idea! To learn more about Harris Burdick and see some fantastic stories inspired by him, go to www.whoisharrisburdick.com. There’s also a teacher’s guide at www.mysteriesofharrisburdick.com.

What is real is the amazing rush of imagination Burdick’s captioned illustrations inspire. In his 1984 introduction to the original Mysteries of Harris Burdick, van Allsburg writes, “I told Peter Wenders how difficult it was to look at the drawings and their captions without imagining a story.” Indeed, an idyllic image of children by a lake comes with the intriguing, horrific caption “He threw with all his might, but the third stone came skipping back.” An image of a harp in the woods has the caption “So it’s true, he thought, it’s really true,” which holds the promise of wonder and magic. The seemingly ordinary thriller-type caption “His heart was pounding. He was sure he had seen the doorknob turn” raises all sorts of questions with the accompanying illustration of a room with a door barely two steps high. I would love to take these illustrations to a third grade class and see the kind of stories eight year olds can come up with. I can imagine readers and writers of all ages delighting in the imaginative experience of creating the lost stories of Harris Burdick.

In Chronicles, that task falls to several of the best, most imaginative authors of our time. Included are stories by Stephen King, Lois Lowry, Gregory Maguire, Sherman Alexie, Kate DiCamillo, Cory Doctorow, and the creative genius who began all this in the first place, Chris van Allsburg. Seriously, this line-up alone was enough to make me want this book, even before learning the legend of Harris Burdick.

The book lives up to its promise. Put such talented writers together, provide them such inspiration and let their imaginations fly, and you end up with a wide range of really good stories. I enjoyed reading these stories, and I love how I enjoyed each story for a very different reason. Stories range from sweet to spooky and the subject matter from mundane to extraordinary.

Some stories in the collection did stand out for me, and for very different reasons. Sherman Alexie’s “A Strange Day in July” is one of my favourites. Alexie took the Enid Blyton-esque image of children by a lake and went the Neil Gaiman/Stephen King route, crafting a remarkably chilling tale about a pair of strange (to my mind, almost psychotic) children. As a major bookworm, I really enjoyed Walter Dean Myers’ “Mr. Linden’s Library,” about a book that kept writing itself as you read. It’s more sinister than you would imagine. Jon Scieszka’s “Under the Rug” is an amusing horror story that for some reason reminds me of Roald Dahl, about a grandmother who spouts cliche’d wisdom and a grandchild whose laziness creates a Dust Monster. Scieszka’s ending was unexpected, yet it totally fit, and I love how he poked fun at the grandmother’s bite-sized pieces of advice. Linda Sue Park’s “The Harp” is a traditional fairy tale, but its ending is very touching. I love the scientific angle to Chris van Allsburg’s “Oscar and Alphonse” and the Twilight Zone feel of M.T. Anderson’s “Just Desert.”

Chronicles ends with a blast, literally, with another of my favourites, Stephen King’s “The House of Maple Street.” I love how King weaves unexplained supernatural elements into a story about domestic abuse and child empowerment. The stepfather in this story is a total jerk, I felt for the mother, and I was cheering on the kids the entire time. Though it’s the supernatural elements that resolve the conflict in this story, it’s the true-to-life elements that stuck with me.

Chronicles of Harris Burdick is an absolute treat. It’s a wonderful storybook, and I love reading all the stories these authors came up with. But it’s also a marvellous nudge on the imagination. Van Allsburg is right — it is difficult to see these images, especially with their captions, and not have the imagination spark with all the possibility of storytelling. Personally, I’d be fascinated to see the stories other authors would make from these images, particularly J.K. Rowling, Suzanne Collins and Arthur Slade. In the meantime, I think Lemony Snicket’s introduction sums up the experience of Harris Burdick perfectly: “As you reread the stories, stare at the images, and ponder the mysteries of Harris Burdick, you will find yourself in a mystery that joins so many authors and readers together in breathless wonder.” Breathless wonder, indeed.

Review | Inquisition, Alfredo Colitto

Alfredo Colitto’s Inquisition begins with an intriguing prologue that reminds me of a fairy tale or a fantasy novel. Three Templar Knights receive mysterious letters, cryptically assuring them that they will find “the secret they seek” in Bologna. This secret is that of alchemy, how to change human blood into iron and, from there, possibly into gold.

Some time later, physican Mondino de Liuzzi is approached by Gerardo, whom Mondino knows as a medical student, but who turns out to be a Templar Knight. Gerardo brings with him a corpse he found of a Templar Knight whose heart had been, literally, turned into iron. Thus Gerardo and Mondino get caught up in the mystery — who killed this Knight and why? How did the killer turn the victim’s heart into iron?

Historical mysteries are usually more about the atmosphere and characters than the action (I’m thinking mostly of C.J. Sansom’s Matthew Shardlake series), but Inquisition is definitely action-packed. Many scenes had Mondino and Gerardo having to punch their way out of tight spots, and honestly a lot of that bored me. I was more intrigued about the mystery of how human blood and tissue can be turned into metal, and given how intelligent and logical Mondino was, I was expecting a very scientific answer along the lines of Michael Crichton and James Rollins. The explanation, as given to Mondino by a female alchemist, turned out vague and more magic-based than I would have liked, and I was disappointed.

The book also focused more on the murder mystery than the alchemical one. Mondino and Gerardo travel to the seedy underworld of their city to investigate the victim’s life, and when a second victim shows up, track down leads related to him as well. Normally, I’m up for an action-packed mystery, but in this case, I was disappointed that the alchemical mystery, which had me excited since the prologue, wasn’t explored as much.

I loved some parts of the book, especially when Mondino uses his medical background to bluff his way into a suspect’s room and interrogate him. I also like how Mondino is conflicted about having violated his Hippocratic oath to prevent a pedophile priest from continuing to harm children. I like Mondino as a character; he’s intelligent and takes care of a sick father. I love one incident in particular that defined Mondino for me — offered his freedom as long as he says a Templar knight committed the murders using sorcery, Mondino hesitates, not because he doesn’t want to blame an innocent man (“he could not sacrifice himself and his family to save Gerardo”), but because it meant “swearing a falsehood” and declaring “something that was contrary to science.” He can always gain absolution from the church, but his reputation in the scientific community would be ruined forever. I like that about him.

I did however end up skimming some parts of the book, and to be honest, I’m not sure why. There were parts that I found boring; perhaps some action scenes dragged on too long. I think the intellectual puzzles in this book were so potentially fascinating that when I see a chase scene or a fight scene, I just think, okay, next please. Colitto also includes several detailed scenes of Mondino practicing medicine; in some cases I found it fascinating, and in others, I found my attention wandering. Other things bothered me as well, like a beggar in the 14th century saying “He stole my stuff!” Nit picky, but the word “stuff” stood out against the more formal language in the rest of the scene.

Still, when we do find out who the killer is, and the motive behind the killings, I found myself absolutely engrossed in the story. I hadn’t guessed the killer or the motive at all, and to be honest, had forgotten most of what the letter in the prologue had said. I re-read the prologue after finding out the killer’s identity and had an “Aha” moment. After the big reveal however, it became a matter of wrapping things up, and I found my attention wandering again.

Overall, not a bad book. Some parts were really exciting, like the reveal of who the murderer is and what the motive is behind the killings. Other parts were just okay. Mondino is an interesting character, definitely a scientist before his time.

Review | I Am Half-Sick of Shadows, Alan Bradley

Christmas, Flavia de Luce and movies are three of my favourite things. In I Am Half-Sick of Shadows, Alan Bradley even adds a dash of Romeo and Juliet, and as anyone who’s ever seen my dog-eared, heavily annotated The Norton Shakespeare can attest, I am a sucker for anything Shakespeare. So it’s no wonder I’ve not only had Shadows on my wish list since having finished A Red Herring without Mustard, but I also begged (please, please, please, if at all possible!) Random House Canada for an ARC. Turns out they did have a single ARC left. It has a coffee mug stain on the cover, which is likely from an absent-minded editor, but which I prefer to imagine as the mark of a fellow Flavia fan who, however reluctantly, handed over her copy to make this blogger’s day. So, dear Santa, to whom I promised 20 years of being a good girl, I now hereby promise to make that vow last at least till Christmas. To my neighbours, I apologize for having busted your eardrums when I opened the package from Random House. Finally, to dear, dear Lindsey from Random House, I owe you a big, squishy hug. Thank you!

If you’ve never read a Flavia book, and you’re a fan of Nancy Drew, Agatha Christie and M.C. Beaton, stop reading my blog right now and go treat yourself to any of Flavia’s delightful adventures. Red Herring, for example, is about gypsies, and just came out in paperback. If, like me, you’re an avid Flavia fan, great news — Shadows is the best one yet!

Granted, I may be biased. As I mentioned, Shadows combines many elements practically guaranteed to make me devour a book. If ever a mystery were tailor-made for me, Shadows is it. That being said, even if you’re a Flavia-loving Ebenezer Scrooge, I think you’ll still enjoy this holiday tale.

Shadows begins with Flavia determined to solve the greatest mystery of all time: who is St. Nick? How does he get down chimneys? If, as her sisters Daffy and Feely claim, he doesn’t exist, where do the presents come from? In true Flavia fashion, she sets an elaborate trap, using chemistry, to capture Santa. This may sound like at best an amusing subplot, but Bradley incorporates Flavia’s trap into the main mystery. I love that he managed to make even this seemingly random plot thread significant.

Due to financial problems, Flavia’s father rents the family estate Buckshaw to a film company over the holidays. One of the actors is murdered on a night when practically the entire village is stranded at Buckshaw during a snowstorm. Shadows is the most Agatha Christie-like of Bradley’s mysteries, featuring a classic country house whodunnit where even Flavia’s Aunt Felicity may have had a motive for murder. The mystery itself is an intellectual puzzle, with wonderfully placed clues and red herrings. It’s not quite as complex as an actual Christie, but I can definitely imagine Poirot himself scratching his egg-shaped head over it.

[Nerdy aside: This Flavia title is from Tennyson’s “The Lady of Shallot,” as is the title of Christie’s Miss Marple novel The Mirror Crack’d from Side to Side. I love this subtle nod to Christie, and I also love all the literary references Bradley sprinkles throughout his novels!]

In amateur detective novels, the professional detective character is usually bumbling and arrogant, so I appreciate that Bradley’s Inspector Hewitt is pretty sharp. In Shadows, he and Flavia arrive at the same conclusion through different sets of clues, with Flavia every now and then pointing out a minor but significant detail that he or his officers happened to miss. I love that their relationship is mutually beneficial, even affectionate, rather than adversarial. “What a dear man he was, the Inspector!” Flavia enthuses. Indeed, when the Inspector calls Flavia out on a lie and looks “pained” rather than annoyed, he almost seems more father than mentor.

Even more heartwarming are Flavia’s relationships with her family members, and the holiday setting is perfect for exploring these relationships more in depth. ‘Tis the season, even, for sisterly truces, however brief. I was especially touched by the part about Flavia trying to connect with her stamp-collecting father by telling him about the chemical properties of postage stamps. I even enjoyed the Feely romance subplot, and I don’t usually care for romance in mysteries. I love that two of Feely’s three suitors were a boy who always gives her stale chocolates “lightly frosted with a mold” and an American soldier always “ready to boogie-woogie.” Like Flavia, however, I was Team Dieter all the way, because Dieter is a booklover and intellectual, whose appearance is “disconcerting: It was somewhat like having the god Thor deliver the furniture in person.”

My favourite part has to be Flavia’s parents’ well-loved copy of Romeo and Juliet. With the initials of Colonel de Luce and Harriet inscribed on the title page, the book is an arresting image that reveals a bit of who Harriet was, a glimpse welcome both to Flavia and to us. The scene where Flavia’s father reads from the book literally gave me goosebumps and almost moved me to tears.

Shadows is a wonderful, delightful book. It features Bradley’s signature mix of colourful characters, mysterious puzzles and heartwarming character relationships. Above all, it treats us to another adventure of the always lovable, brilliant Flavia de Luce. To comfort a family friend with PTSD, she offers the following whimsical, scientific, profound observation:

Just think, Dogger, of all those atoms of hydrogen and oxygen, joining hands and dancing ring-around-a-rosy to form a six-sided snowflake. Sometimes they form around a particle of dust […] and because of it the form is misshapen. Hunchbacked snowflakes. Fancy that!

I love that image of hunchbacked snowflakes. And I love Flavia. I cannot thank Random House Canada enough for this early Christmas present. Next up, Flavia fans, is Seeds of Antiquity. The title alone gets me all excited. Also, heads up for all Flavia fans: there’s a Flavia de Luce fan club! In the meantime, here’s the Canadian book trailer for I Am Half-Sick of Shadows to help get you in the mood for a Flavia Christmas:

And just because we can never get enough Flavia, here’s the US trailer as well: