A Beautiful Blue Death by Charles Finch
Connor rates it: 3.5/5

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a lady in possession of a fondness for mystery novels must always be in search of another series. 

Or at least, that's the truth I've discovered after fifteen or so years in pursuit of, to turn a phrase, novel mysteries. Agatha Christie became one of my favorite authors after my brilliant book club leader decided the group of seventh grade girls she was leading should read Death on the Nile. (I owe a lot to that book club--my love of Jane Austen and The Lord of the Rings included--but I will always be especially grateful to our leader for deciding we needed to appreciate Hercule Poirot.)

The thing is, a girl in her early teens with a mind bent on reading Agatha Christie can accomplish that quite quickly. There are, after all, several Agatha Christie novels and detectives to enjoy, and obtaining them is not particularly difficult: the title of "best selling novelist" isn't an honorary one. But there comes a time in every mystery lover's life when she must turn away from the Queen of Crime and pick up the works of other mystery novelists. This was the point where my mother introduced me to what quickly became my next downfall: historical mysteries.

And that is how, after discovering Ellis Peters, Dorothy Sayers, Victoria Thompson, Elizabeth Peters, Peter Tremayne, and, most recently, Charles Todd--it came to pass that I needed a new mystery series.

Or, you know, nine. Ten, even. But at least two or three, and quite probably more.

I did what I always do in moments of literary trouble: I looked my problem dead in the eye, and I tackled it with all the force of a twenty-four year old bookworm with access to the internet. It wavered. It dissolved. It split at the seams. It tumbled into oblivion. It fell down upon the mountainside in ruins. It faded into nothingness. It trembled. It crashed. In short, it crumbled beneath the combined weight of Goodreads, the Free Library of Philadelphia, and my own curiosity, and I emerged with a list of not one, not two, but twelve mystery series to investigate. 

One of the books that emerged from this was A Beautiful Blue Death by Charles Finch. While not the most technically deft mystery I've ever read, I nevertheless enjoyed it quite a bit. The book cover described the novel as something of a combination of Sherlock Holmes, Gosford Park, and P. G. Wodehouse. For once, this was a surprisingly accurate description. I would argue that the Sherlockian tidbits were unnecessary and felt a bit forced, but on the whole the novel does have a Wodehouse/Gosford Park vibe to it.

Which is to say: the prose has an airy, refreshing lightness despite the pages' content, and the mystery seems less important than the characters involved.

The breezy writing is well anchored in Finch's main character, Charles Lenox. It is Lenox's cheery outlook (and occasionally his dour moods) that keep the story moving along, and it is Lenox's relationships that interested me most: that with his best friend, his brother, and his butler. The butler is Lenox's most dependable compatriot in any investigation, from ferreting out information to providing background knowledge and an extra set of hands. Lenox's brother has a much quieter brilliance than Lenox himself, but their clear affection for each other and willingness to help with the other's difficulties or career is admirable. His best friend, though, is a woman he has known since childhood, the widow Lady Jane Grey.

I have often found that novels professing "life long friendships" leave me wondering how on earth the author expected me to believe these characters were lifelong friends--they never understand each other and, in fact, scarcely seem to care for each other at all. Finch is a pleasant exception to my experience, and A Beautiful Blue Death showcases a quiet, mutual affection between Lady Jane and Lenox that is both believable and lovely to read. 

These three relationships--butler, brother, friend--keep Finch's prose from veering too far into the lightheartedness of Wodehouse while also providing enough counterweight to keep Lenox from veering into despair as he works to solve the case. The murder itself proves a curious one, with enough twists to keep me guessing and a resolution that managed to live up to them, and I look forward to reading Charles Lenox's next case. 

Sorcery and Cecelia, or: The Enchanted Chocolate Pot
by Patricia C. Wrede and Caroline Stevermer
Basia rates it: 5/5
Connor rates it: 5/5

Well, we've done it! Our first-ever book drop has taken place at Dunn Brothers Coffee in Addison, Texas (3725 Belt Line Rd). You can find this copy of one of our favorites, Pride and Prejudice, lurking on their bookshelf! If you pick it up, don't forget to tweet at us and/or tag a photo on Instagram!

​Jane Steele​ by Lindsay Faye
​Basia rates it: 4.5/5

The Watchmaker of Filigree Street​ by Natasha Pulley
​Basia rates it: 3.75/5
​
I did a write-up for Filigree​ (as Connor and I have been referring to it when talking about posts) while I was still reading it, but I thought I would circle back around now that I've finished and give a more comprehensive review.

This was a strange book, and I came out of reading it much the same way that I did the movie ​Krampus​​: it definitely wasn't bad, and I would also say that it was good​, but it also exists in a weird tenuous space between the two.

​My struggle with Filigree is that I kept forgetting​ to read it. Normally, when I'm reading a book, even if it's a book I don't feel compelled to devour, I have the urge to finish, because I hate leaving things undone. I'll make time to curl up in my favorite armchair with the book on my knees for at least a few minutes, just enough to get in a chapter or two while I have my tea. But I found I wasn't doing that with Filigree​.

It is, as I said before, a quiet sort of book, but while that was part of its charm, I feel like it also might have worked against it in some ways. I'd think about reading, would have to think​ about what I was currently reading, and then I would remember ​Filigree​ and that I had yet to finish it. Sometimes I would pick it up, and other times I wouldn't. I always had to make a conscious effort to remember to read it.

​Another reason I think the overall tone might have worked against the book was I was finally at the book's climax, but I felt no urgency. I am sure I was meant to--the events unfolding were crazy and tumultuous--but I couldn't muster the appropriate feelings. This is not to say that I didn't care about the characters, because I did. But I also found I cared more about the secondary characters than the three protagonists; in some ways, I felt that they had a bit more substance to them, like I knew their personalities better.

I didn't feel relief when I was finished with the book, because the overall story was an interesting one and I truly did​ want to know what happened, but I also didn't experience any of the usual things I feel when I finish a book. It was simply over, and I could finally move on to something else.

Filigree​ was a good book, but a strange one. I am glad I read it, but I can't see myself ever picking it up for a reread. It is certainly not a book for everyone. But if you're willing to give it a try, I hope that you, like myself, are at least charmed by the little clockwork octopus that has a penchant for stealing socks and hiding in drawers.

I found The Watchmaker of Filigree Street​ by Natasha Pulley totally by accident, lurking in the mystery section of my local library. I was browsing the stacks, mostly checking what Agatha Christie they had (the selection was pitiful), when I spotted a book tucked into a strange corner between bookshelves. There was a bright green octopus on the spine. Never one to ignore a cephalopod, I squeezed my arm into the space and pulled it out. I’m not sure if this book was meant to be in the mystery section or if it was placed there by another patron. I don’t even know how long it had been sitting there; if I was the only one who had happened to peer into the space between the shelves, it could have been there, undetected, for ages. So I read the back cover, decided it looked interesting, tucked it under my arm, and went to check out.

I let it sit around for a bit but finally got to starting it just recently, and I’m fascinated. Unexpectedly, the book has magic, although I suppose that the use of the adjective “magical” on the back synopsis should have clued me in, but I assumed it was just one of those buzzwords back-jacket writers like to throw around to make the work sound sweeping and grand. But no! There is, in fact, actual magic, which sells me on almost anything. There is also a male protagonist who is charming in his social awkwardness, a female protagonist whom I realized I loved immediately because she reminded me of Lila from V. E. Schwab’s Shades of Magic series, a Japanese watchmaker who is perplexing and intriguing and very lovely, and, because it must be said, a clockwork octopus.

I’m only about halfway through, and I’m unwilling to give away too much about a book, particularly one I haven’t yet finished, but I’m really enjoying it so far. It’s a skinny book, by my usual standards, but it’s not a book that I’ve found myself speeding through. Usually this might spell disaster, as a book I find I am unable to read quickly is usually a book that is boring or obtuse, but that’s not the case here. I simply get caught up in all of it--Grace’s scientific experiments, even though I am not very scientifically inclined; Thaniel’s poor attempts at espionage; Keita Mori’s quiet but powerful presence; and Katsu, the clockwork octopus with a personality all his own. I want to know what happens, but in a quiet way. This is a mystery novel, in a sense, but it is not the pulse-pounding, what happens next what happens next I have to know sort of mystery that I’ve grown used to reading. This is a quieter mystery, where the plot takes a backseat to the characters. So if you love character-driven narratives with a little magic, a little mystery, and a little absurdity, this would be a book worth picking up.