Poor Flavia. As if being banished to Miss Bodycote’s Female Academy in Canada at the end of The Dead in Their Vaulted Arches and then being banished back home again at the end of As Chimney Sweepers Come to Dust weren’t bad enough, her return to Buckshaw is hardly the homecoming she imagined. She’s picked up at the dock with zero fanfare, her father is in the hospital with pneumonia, and her pet chicken, Esmerelda, is deceased. Things are hardly tickety-boo in Flavia’s world. Fortunately, a body turns up in short order to snap her back into her old self! In her own words, “It’s amazing what the discovery of a corpse can do for one’s spirits.”
The mystery in Thrice the Brinded Cat Hath Mew’d surrounds the death of a man named Roger Sambridge, a talented but reclusive craftsman who does restoration work and wood carvings for the church in Bishop’s Lacey. Sent by her good friend and the minister’s wife, Cynthia Richardson, to deliver a message to Sambridge, Flavia discovers him dead, hanging upside down from a wooden contraption on the back of his bedroom door. One might legitimately ask how she happened to stumble upon this scene inside the man’s home. Well, you would only ask this if you didn’t know Flavia. As she says just before she makes the discovery, “There is a certain type of person to whom a closed door is a challenge–a dare, a taunt, a glove thrown down–and I am one of them.” The only other creature in the house is a tortoiseshell cat.
Flavia obviously doesn’t know any torties.
If she did, she would have looked no further for the murderer.
The mystery prompts Flavia to learn more about a long-dead children’s author named Oliver Inchbald, who died under bizarre circumstances that may have involved seagulls. Her investigation soon leads her to various sources/suspects, including the author’s publisher, a Scout with sticky fingers, a local singer of questionable talent, and a self-proclaimed “witch.” She makes ample use of her perceptive powers and deductive reasoning; though, the first clue to send her down the rabbit hole to the publisher is a bit questionable to me. After finding a stack of Oliver Inchbald’s books in Sambridge’s bedroom, Flavia wonders, “Why would a grown man. . . have a set of children’s books at his bedside?”
Me looking at my bookcase, wondering what age has to do with anything.
The mystery is satisfying, but at this point I’m sufficiently invested in Flavia that the unraveling of clues has become secondary. It’s hard to believe I was ever on the fence about her. Though she’s aged only a year since the series began, she has grown significantly as an individual. At 12 years old, she’s been forced to grow up by circumstance: the confirmation of her mother’s death; the ramshackle state of the family’s finances; the tendency of English families to repress feelings. The highlights of this series, and this book in particular, are the warm moments between Flavia and key people in her life. While her family situation remains difficult–her sisters Feely and Daffy make only minor appearances in this novel, but when they do they come off as excessively cruel–Flavia has fostered some treasured relationships with the supporting characters. Dogger is, as usual, Flavia’s emotional rock, though he does “betray” Flavia by helping her annoying cousin Undine in some mischief. (Personally, I can’t stand Undine, but I appreciate the tactic of establishing a younger mischief-maker into Flavia’s life to teach her tolerance and perspective.) Outside of the de Luce household, Cynthia Richardson has become a close friend, and Mildred Bannerman from Miss Bodycote’s Female Academy seems to be sticking around, giving Flavia another adult female to whom she can turn. And, finally, there is the kind but no-nonsense Inspector Hewitt. Flavia and Hewitt have a lovely scene together at the end of the novel that absolutely sends me. Flavia nearly swoons and I think I may have also.
Thrice the Brinded Cat Hath Mew’d ends on a shockingly sad note. Readers may expect it and at the same time feel blindsided, as when you anticipate bad news but are never completely prepared for it. As with the discovery of Harriet’s body and Flavia being sent away to school, Alan Bradley continues to force Flavia into more adult responsibility and emotional turmoil.
Rather than end on such a downer note, here’s another picture of Smudge, my tortie:
I’ve killed before and I’ll do it again.