Flavia de Luce

Flavia in her chemistry lab

Alan Bradley, author of the Flavia de Luce detective stories, was formerly an electronics engineer - so there's hope for me yet... He is Canadian by birth and now lives on the Isle of Man but the books are set in 1950's England, reminiscent of my own childhood. Flavia is the youngest of three daughters of widowed Haviland de Luce and in Alan's words she is just your ordinary precocious 11-year-old girl with a passion for poisons. Oh, yes, and she has violet eyes. An 11-year-old is on the cusp: neither girl nor woman; man nor boy. It is a magical age, when, given the gift of wonder, anything – anything! – is possible. And she has pigtails, is a sleuth extraordinaire and rides a bike called Gladys. 

Gladys

The plots are intriguing but what I like most of all is the tenderness that Alan bestows to Flavia's narration together with her vivid descriptions. The following example finds her rushing back home from some prank and meeting her grieving and rather distant father: 

What are we going to do with you?” he asked suddenly.

“I don’t know, sir,” I replied.

The “sir” came out of nowhere. I had never addressed my father in that way before, but it seemed perfectly the right thing to do.

“It’s just that sometimes … sometimes—I think that I am very like my mother.”

There! I had said it!

I could only wait now to see what damage I had done.

“You are not like your mother, Flavia.”

I gulped at the blow.

“You are your mother.”

My mind was a swarm—a beehive, a tornado, a tropical storm. Were my ears actually hearing this? For the past several years my sisters had increasingly tried to convince me that I was adopted; a changeling; a lump of coal left by a cruel Father Christmas in their stockings.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this for some time,” Father said, fidgeting as if he were looking for something lost in the pockets of his dressing gown. “I may as well come straight to the point.”

My chin was trembling. What was going to happen? What was he going to say?

Was he about to tear a strip off me for ruining my best coat?

“I am aware that your life has not always been—” he began unexpectedly. “That is to say, I know that you sometimes …”

He looked at me in misery, his face flickering in the candlelight. “Damn it all,” he said.

He began again. “As was your mother, you have been given the fatal gift of genius. Because of it, your life will not be an easy one—nor must you expect it to be. You must remember always that great gifts come at great cost. Are there any questions?”

with her sisters

There are occasional glitches that show his Canadian start, like the colour coding of mains wiring as brown for live and blue for neutral. Back then it would have been red and black. Or a reference to "clapboards" which are weatherboards over here. But such hiccups are a small price to pay for the joy of living inside Flavia.

This video clip, shot years ago, is of another genius: someone I know rather well who reminds me a bit of Flavia, or should I say Flavia reminds me a bit of her.

So far there are eleven books in the series, possibly still counting, and I am currently on No. 5, so I've got a fair bit of enjoyment ahead of me. If you like stories involving intrigue, coming of age, that are well written and with characters that are vibrant but which you can relate to, I can heartily recommend this series.

1. The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie 
2. The Weed That Strings the Hangman’s Bag
3. A Red Herring Without Mustard
4. I Am Half Sick of Shadows
5. Speaking from Among the Bones
6. The Dead in Their Vaulted Arches
7. The Curious Case of the Copper Corpse
8. As Chimney Sweepers Come to Dust
9. Thrice the Brinded Cat Hath Mew’d
10. The Grave’s a Fine Place
11. The Golden Tresses of the Dead