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Post by Dante on Oct 17, 2019 2:59:27 GMT -5
Welcome back to the fourth and a halfth, and final, installment of 2019's Great 667 Re-Read for Lemony Snicket's All The Wrong Questions. In this thread, we come to the fourth question - Why Is This Night Different From All Other Nights? (And yes, it was too long for the subject line.) This thread will remain an Announcement for the following month. Previous threads: Who Could That Be At This Hour?When Did You See Her Last?File Under: 13 Suspicious IncidentsShouldn't You Be In School?I will shortly be away for a week, so before I begin posting my own observations, I'll post the regrettably resigned Foxy 's entry on this volume from her Commonplace Book: -~< WHY IS THIS NIGHT DIFFERENT FROM ALL OTHER NIGHTS? CHARACTERS: B. & P. Bellerophon (message on the page before the second title page Ghede (first picture) Gifford (first picture): These two people seem sinister. Kit Snicket Lemony Snicket (1) S. Theodora Markson (1) Hangfire (1) Dashiell Qwerty (1) Ellington Feint (1) Prosper Lost (1) Ornette Lost (1) Talkie brothers (1) Alice Lost (1): Prosper’s wife, died in a fire Jake Hix (2) Cleo Knight (2) Harvey Mitchum (2) Mimi Mitchum (2) Polly Partial (2): now works at the train station selling tickets instead of at the grocery store Sharon Haines (2) Lizzie Haines (2) Kellar Haines (2) Sally Murphy (2) the porter (2): Liizie Haines Moxie Mallahan (3) Moxie’s father (3) Moxie’s mother (4) Stew Mitchum (5) The 3 people from the three previous books to whom he sent his files!: Walleye: he is bald(6) Pocket: a woman who said she saw STM shoot Qwerty with a poison dart (6) Eratosthenes: had a beard that went out in two directions, and he is old (6) Ellington’s father (8) Dr. Flammarion (9) Nurse Dander (9) The Duchess of Winnipeg (10) Hector (13): surveying an icy mountain lake Widdershins (13): in a submarine deep underwater Josephine (13): delivering a message to Monty Monty (13) Beatrice (13): going with Olaf to a strange forest; WHAT??? Olaf (13) RIGHT QUESTION: Is it more beastly to be a murderer or to let one go free? (1) Where had the train been before it stopped at Stin’d-by-the-Sea? (3) QUESTIONS FROM THE FLAP: Why are the snacks so terrible? Why are we stopping? What’s the rest of the story? REFERENCES (real and made up): Metamorphosis (1) Corduroy (1) To Kill a Mockingbird (2) The Turn of the Screw (2) Giacomo Casanova (3) Marcel Duchamp (3) Beverly Cleary (3) The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame (5) Eleanor Estes (7) (Lois) Lowry (7) Snyder (7) (Roald) Dahl (7) (Maurice) Sendak) (7) Konigsburg (7) (Marc?) Brown (7) Gorey (7) Grimm (7) story of a wizard ordering a beast around as long as it was well-fed (12) SNICKET DICTIONARY: Ad hoc: we were all alone and making it up as we went along (1) Anticlimactic: nowhere near as exciting (3) Anything and everything: a number of terrible crimes (1) Anxious unison: they did it at the same time and with the same sickly look (6) Axis: a line that goes down the middle of something (8) Canvas the neighborhood: ask questions of everyone nearby (4) Cowered: we closed our eyes and shook and clung to whatever we could with trembling hands (12) Disquieting sight: it made me uneasy and silent (11) Glyptotheca: a place where sculpture is displayed (1) Malevolence: the sort of evil that is dark and shiny (6) Misguided: it wasn’t going to work (2) Nefarious: wicked, and involving stolen honeydew melons and certain equipment from an abandoned aquarium (1) No dice: that is not going to happen (7) Perilous: dangerous (7) Prominent individuals: heroes or villains (12) Provided discreet transportation: they drove the only taxi left in Stain’d-by-the-Sea whenever their father was sick or couldn’t do it for some other reason, which was almost all the time and always (2) Pulse: the throb of blood as it moves through someone’s veins (9) Quagmire: heap of trouble (7) Railroaded: framed for a crime (6) Rendezvous: meet (10) Ridiculously: the man stepped through the door and closed it behind him, catching the woman’s fingers, and she shrieked and the door opened again and she stepped though after him and the door shut again and at last they were gone (4) Rueful: not smiley (11) Rushed to judgment: thought of her as a murderer (4) Simultaneously: they tried to walk through the door at the same tiem and got tangled up (4) Solitude: being all by yourself (13) Stowaway: a person hiding on a ship, so they can travel without paying (3) Took it as well as he could: he looked sad and defeated (7) GEOGRAPHY: Lost Arms (1) Stain’d-by-the-Sea (1) Wade Academy (1) Offshore Island (1) Clusterous Forest (1) Diceys Department Store (1) Hungry’s (2) Partial Foods (2) Black Cat Coffee (2) Stain’d Station (2) Hemlock Tearoom and Stationary Shop (4) Colophon Clinic (9) Winnipeg (10) FOODOLOGY: honeydew melons (1) poppy seed bagels (4) almond pound cake (4) verbena tea (4) root beer floats (4) gingerbread (4) tomato salad (4) Highsmith sandwich: roasted peppers, apricots, walnuts, Stilton cheese, and lettuce (endive or escarole) (4) blueberries (7) apple (7) S: Stop asking (1) Surely there’s an explanation for this. (13) >~-
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Post by Dante on Oct 26, 2019 7:51:16 GMT -5
The Little, Brown & Co. edition and Egmont edition of this book have different sets of questions on the back cover; I suspect the latter is an early draft. Little, Brown & Co.EgmontAnd yes, I’m afraid that ‘abord’ is indeed what’s really printed on the book; they fix it in the paperback edition. Speaking of which, please recall that all four Little, Brown & Co. paperbacks have entirely different blurbs, in which the questions have become multiple choice. For those who’ve never done so properly, I suggest conducting a close comparison of the endpapers – that is, the inside cover pages – from ?1 to ?4 (Egmont paperbacks not included). The local ecology has changed dramatically. Egmont’s editions forgot to exclude File Under from their list of ATWQ volumes in the front of the book, despite the fact that they wouldn’t publish it until years later, digital-only, without the cover they publicly complimented. The address in the dedication is a surprise, though I’m sure we all imagined there would eventually be some twist. The number of items under which to file the report has decreased again, and even lacks an ‘et cetera’ this time. Chapter OneIn every previous volume, the opening paragraph of the story has filled the entire first page; but here it doesn’t quite, and it’s messy and awkward. “Is it more beastly to be a murderer or to let one go free?” (p. 1) In the end, Snicket does both. ‘Hangfire worked in the shadows, scheming to get his hands on a statue of a mythical creature called the Bombinating Beast’ (p. 4) This isn’t untrue, but it’s not as if that’s his sole occupation or even particularly the object of his plans for two books now; you could almost say he’s more scheming not to get his hands on it. ‘We no longer saw each other as much as we used to, but worked in solitude’ (p. 4) Another instance of ‘solitude’, and of this inane plan that’s doomed to fail. ‘You know who else is in the city standing trial, I told myself, but thinking about my sister didn’t make it any easier to get to sleep.’ (p. 5) Yes, we’ll be discussing this later. ‘I decided to count to ten to make sure she was really gone. When I reached fourteen’ (p. 8) On first reading, I probably convinced myself that that choice of number was foreshadowing an epilogue. ‘I killed the lights.’ (p. 10) That, on the other hand, might be foreshadowing, or it might just be playing to the theme. “There are some stories you never get to finish.” (p. 15) Even so, I’m happy with Prosper Lost’s story. He feels very different in his last appearance to most of his early ones, remote and obsequious. ‘I headed toward the train station […] The streets were quiet and I went several blocks, all the way to the town’s last remaining department store, before I saw a single person.’ (pp. 15-16) So Diceys Department Store is on a straight line between the Lost Arms and Stain’d Station, is it? I’ll come back to this. ‘A good skeleton key can open any lock at any time. A bad one can open some locks, some of the time, after much struggle. I looked at it, but only for a second, because I had seen it before. It was likely the only one in town.’ (p. 17) The skeleton key used by Sharon Haines in ?3, presumably given to her by Hangfire. And now it’s in Theodora’s hands. When, where and why was the exchange made, and what did each party feel about it?
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Post by Dante on Oct 27, 2019 12:44:25 GMT -5
Chapter Two
‘with glass bottles waiting on shelves like a laboratory with the mad scientist on vacation.’ (p. 19) Bit harsh, Snicket. You’re friends with a chemist.
‘One of the advantages of the organization to which Theodora and I belonged was that there were no uniforms, unless you count a small tattoo on the ankle.’ (pp. 21-22) I suppose the Disguise Kit doesn’t count, exactly.
According to pages 23 and 24, Diceys Department Store, Hungry’s, Partial Foods, Black Cat Coffee, and Stain’d Station are connected roughly by a straight line. But wait a second – earlier, Snicket came to Diceys after travelling several blocks from the Lost Arms while going to the station; but Hungry’s is on the same road as the Lost Arms! How could Snicket have travelled several blocks in one direction to Diceys and then kept on travelling in the same direction and passed by a place on the same street he started at? Perhaps Theodora is taking a winding route in case she fears being followed, or just has a lousy sense of direction.
‘Most of the train’s cars were cargo cars, with INK INC. stamped on the sides and the tops open, to hold the ink extracted from octopi by enormous mechanized needles. But Ink Inc. was no longer a thriving business, and the octopi were scarcer and scarcer, so the cargo cars sat empty’ (p. 25) So, firstly, Ink Inc. actually shuttered in ?2, and this is confirmed in ?3 on page 15. Secondly, you’re storing liquid in open-topped cargo cars?
‘Behind the cargo cars were some passenger cars’ (p. 25) This arrangement seems unusual. Not just the mixing of passenger and cargo cars, but putting the cargo cars between the passenger cars and the engine.
‘“Total Stranger,” she greeted me in return.’ (p. 27) Polly Partial recognised Snicket almost instantly on sight on ?3 page 258. To be fair, that line is the inconsistency.
“It winds through town, with brief stops and the post office, the museum, the library, and various downtown businesses, including Partial Foods and Ink Inc.” (p. 29) Some of those are rather interesting places for there to be train stops. I wish I’d known that Stain’d-by-the-Sea had a museum back when I was writing The Stain’d Myth Murders, since I happened to include one.
“Unless there are special requests, The Thistle of the Valley makes no scheduled stops in town but travels across the sea and finally reaches the city before continuing on to various villages and tourist attractions.” (p. 29) I’m curious about the route of the engine. As far as we know, there’s only one way for the train to reach town, via the bridge that crosses the sea; as ever, it’s possible that Stain’d-by-the-Sea is connected to the mainland on one side, perhaps by a sort of peninsula, but if so it’s odd that nobody ever mentions travelling that way. Lemony and Theodora drove there, but everyone else either travels by air (Hector and Josephine) or seems to take the train. If the train were to travel through Stain’d-by-the-Sea from somewhere else to the city, that would resolve a massive plot hole later. So, are there stops before Stain’d-by-the-Sea, with the train coming from either another direction into town or crossing the bridge especially before crossing back? Or is Stain’d the end of the line, and that’s why the railway “switches engines” (p. 14)? The train only comes to town once a month, so does it skip Stain’d-by-the-Sea ordinarily, cutting from A to C and skipping Stain’d’s hypothetical B, or is Stain’d A and ordinarily the train only does B onwards? I don’t think it’s possible to say. But it does make a difference.
‘The skeleton key stuck out like a feather in a bad hat. It would be an easy caper to steal it like that.’ (p. 35) Is this implying that Theodora stole it? If nothing else, ?1 Chapter One shows she’s a deft street thief.
“I’m sure he has no idea you lent it to a friend.” (p. 35) Or did Sharon Haines lend it to her? The relationship between Theodora and Sharon is an interesting one. Back on ?3 page 267, Snicket implied that Sharon had been the one to strike Theodora; well, perhaps she was ordered to do so, if so, and felt bad about doing it, because they seemed to be getting on well enough otherwise.
“I’ll never escape from Hangfire” (p. 39) What does Hangfire have on Sally Murphy? She indicated that her family was concerned, back on ?1 page 183, so does she also have a captive family member? Who is it, where are they? It would have been so much simpler, you know, if the Haines family were really the Murphy family. Everything would have made so much more sense. Maybe they are by marriage.
‘Sharon Haines. Sally Murphy. S. Theodora Markson. I knew there was a mystery here, but the mystery mystified me.’ (p. 39) Is the mystery why all their names begin with an S?
“Another train will come along before too long, sonny boy” (p. 40) They come through town once a month!
“I guess we should keep all our actions quiet […] That way Hangfire won’t catch on.” (p. 46) Or your own associates! I increasingly think that Handler put his finger a little too hard on the scales to make the plot of this book work.
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Post by Dante on Oct 28, 2019 16:02:48 GMT -5
Chapter Three
‘And you, I thought to myself, are going to grab on to one of those railings as the train goes past, and then try to open one of the windows and get inside while the train barrels through the countryside.’ (p. 53) Snicket’s most insane, don’t-try-this-at-home plan yet. But it’s also crucial foreshadowing.
‘The railing curved terribly away from the train, like a tree struggling in a hurricane.’ (p. 58) This image arguably suggests that the railing has come loose at one end, rather than having come loose in the middle; the former, to an extent either, is a critical flaw in the solution of the crime.
‘I haven’t even told Kellar Haines what I’m doing tonight, and he’s still living with my father and me at the lighthouse.’ (p. 63) I just can’t stop rolling my eyes at this.
“Where had the train been before it stopped at Stain’d-by-the-Sea?” (p. 66) I think it would take an extremely detailed and thorough answer to this question for the ending to make any sense.
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Post by Dante on Oct 30, 2019 4:39:57 GMT -5
Chapter Four
“That […] was a man named Gifford and a woman named Ghede. They’re both members of my organization.” (p. 75) This is a fairer clue, but who’s going to think it means what it means? They’ve had to travel separately from Kit already, or they wouldn’t need to be disguised as conductors.
‘Hangfire had confiscated her old one’ (p. 76) Is this just a polite way of saying that he destroyed it, or a genuine slip-up? And is it new as in “newly-made,” or just as in “newly-acquired,” since the typewriter Kellar acquired for her from 350 Wayward Way (?3, p. 312) is only one of those?
“it’s black cardboard, from the laudanum boxes at Wade Academy” (p. 80) Established on ?3 p. 235, and we’ll politely not ask how Ornette got hold of that cardboard.
“I managed to get a message to him at Offshore Island this morning” (p. 80) I would ask exactly how she accomplished this, but we all know that the mail at Stain’d-by-the-Sea is extremely reliable.
‘I thought I saw something flicker where the water had once been, or two somethings, really, two little round lights. But then they were gone.’ (p. 83) This will be important later, and then later again. I wonder if it’s the Dilemma or the taxi.
“Penultimate is a word I’ve always liked” (p. 84) In this instance, it may also be foreshadowing the imminent murder of a sub-librarian with a gun.
“I know my progress in this town has been monitored, and I know you’ve been monitoring it.” (p. 87) How did Theodora learn this? Just last book she was convinced that Sharon Haines was the V.F.D. observer. Perhaps somebody with an ulterior motive told her, like Gifford and Ghede, who clearly also have a plan in the works.
“I have the information that can stop Hangfire.” (p. 87) Either he acquired it in prison, or was negligent in not using it sooner.
‘The scenery was slowing, and I felt the clattering of the wheels get slower and slower on the bridge beneath me. The Thistle of the Valley was making its unscheduled stop.’ (p. 89) I wish it had been made clear that the train is only just slowing, or that it may be slowing but it’s not yet pulled into its stop. When I first read this, I misunderstood that there was meant to be a mystery and assumed Hangfire had just shot Qwerty from the end of the platform as the prison car went past, aided by the train’s deceleration. There’s never any emphasis that the crime is meant to be an impossible one, and considering that I’d written two ATWQ impossible crime fanfics and was halfway through a third, I’d have relished being given a canonical one if I’d only understood it was happening.
‘One wall was lined with the doors to the two compartments, and the other with wide, clear windows looking outside.’ (p. 89) So how do you actually board the train? Believe it or not, which side of the train the outside doors are on is an important element to the puzzle.
‘The train screeched to a jolty, awkward halt just as I entered the cell.’ (p. 91) The fact that Lemony was physically inside the cell at the time the train stopped may resolve a later plot hole, though in a sense it creates another.
I wonder how all these Stain’d-by-the-Sea regulars planned to get back to town given that the train only comes through once a month.
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Post by Dante on Oct 31, 2019 5:32:04 GMT -5
Chapter Five
‘We were in the corridor of the prison car […] out the dirty windows the landscape was still halted.’ (p. 94) This implies that the corridor is facing the open former sea, implying that the other side of the carriage, the cells, faces the platform and the Wade Academy; and if the platform is on the compartment side, the outside doors that permit access to the carriages must also be on the compartment side. However, this would render redundant Stew Mitchum’s escape route – he could have re-entered the train through a door, or even just hopped over to the platform when the train stopped – and a later line will indicate that the doors are indeed on the corridor side.
‘My chaperone had been this way since the murder had been discovered. She had no more to say than Qwerty did.’ (p. 96) I’m not sure why Theodora behaves in this fashion. She must know what happened. Does she finally feel responsible and ashamed? Or did the Mitchums simply threaten her?
‘The knock came right then, at the sliding doors […] Mimi reached over my head and opened the doors for her son.’ (p. 98) This creates a plot hole later.
‘His hair was a mess’ (p. 98) More like his hair was a clue.
“Shouldn’t you be in school?” “That’s an old question” (p. 99) I really appreciate this exchange.
“Make all the jokes you want, Snicket. The librarian got dead, and we’re going to make sure your old lady pays for her crime.” (p. 99) Also foreshadowing, really, is that Stew’s only just arrived but knows exactly what’s been happening.
‘“I guess it’s nice you want to help Theodora,” she said. “You’re fond of her, so you can’t believe she’s a criminal.”’ (p. 100) Wow, on rereading, the truth is really obvious, isn’t it? Of course, this applies to many different characters and relationships.
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Post by Dante on Nov 1, 2019 13:49:15 GMT -5
Chapter Six
“Did you hear or see anything suspicious right before the train came to a stop?” (p. 113) It’s really little wonder I thought the murder was specifically committed while the train was slowing down, and that that timing was therefore important. In truth, it didn't matter at all.
“We didn’t witness anything […] and we’re certainly not useful. We’ve been hiding in this compartment since the train left Stain’d Station. Ow!” (p. 114) Stain’d-by-the-Sea’s greatest actress, everyone.
“I’m not a drama critic.” (p. 116) One day, though.
The crime scene diagram on page 119 is appreciated, as crime scene diagrams always are (see my work in The Stain’d Myth Murders), but it has always been bizarre that Seth gave the initials of the librarians as “WDE” rather than “WPE”; and furthermore that nobody caught it. I would have thought it would be a trivial fix digitally.
“Walleye” “Pocket” “I’m Eratosthenes” (p. 121) I don’t know how I expected the dedications to be explained – and after this book was addressed to the Bellerophons, it was obvious they would be explained – but these three just springing out of the blue certainly comes as a surprise, and I wonder if the preceding paragraphs were carefully arranged to put their names at the very head of the page.
“Point your dart gun at someone else” (p. 122) “I saw S. Theodora Markson shoot Dashiell Qwerty with a poison dart.” (p. 125) It wasn’t previously clear how Qwerty had been killed, but it feels true to the Averse’s repeating patterns and themes of cyclicality that it should be a weapon from TPP that murdered the sub-librarian. Would a poison dart, even fired from a dart gun, be powerful enough to shatter a window? We will let this slide. The crime has far bigger problems.
“I’m putting Theodora in Cell Two with the other prisoner.” (p. 127) It’s reasonable to think, at this point, that the other prisoner was Ellington – that she was either always there, or (if you picked up that somebody else was in Cell One with Qwerty and Theodora) that she was merely transferred to a different cell after Qwerty’s murder… very rapidly, of course. It’s true that she must have been permitted to leave very rapidly in any case, to get out before Snicket got there; which makes you wonder why a murderer on the train needed to do anything clever to escape the crime scene other than just ask his parents to let him out. Once we learn that Ellington was permitted to leave, then this statement becomes suspect; but by that time we have forgotten.
‘I stared at them for a second, and then looked the Officers Mitchum right in their eyes.’ (p. 128) Not easy to look two people in four eyes at the same time.
“from the outskirts of town in the hinterlands to the boundary of the Clusterous Forest.” (p. 129) The Mitchums use the same words in ?1, page 89. The mention of the hinterlands is curious, geographically; is Stain’d-by-the-Sea technically within it, and is that what’s on the other side of town, if it’s only coastal and not an island? Unless this statement does actually cover a stretch from one side of the town through past the opposite side, it otherwise implies that the Mitchums’ authority doesn’t actually cover the town itself.
‘He shot a dark look every which way, finally settling on the Mitchums as if he wanted to tear his parents limb from limb.’ (p. 127) Once you know there’s a mystery and that the murderer isn’t simply Hangfire, the culprit is tremendously obvious. But it’s not clear that there’s meant to be a mystery. It would only take a small tweak – for it to be very clear that the train doesn’t start slowing down until after the murderer, doesn’t arrive at the platform until it’s slowing down – for things to work. Though even so, Snicket’s work is full of unlikely physical acts; and indeed the solution is such an act. You can even make an argument, based firmly in the text, that Stew Mitchum cannot be the murderer.
‘The Thistle of the Valley hummed underneath my feet like an escalator or an earthquake, a dark buzzing sound.’ (p. 135) Along with all the talk of derailing, the style of the book contains a great deal of foreshadowing, enough to make you wonder whether Lemony really heard something else.
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Post by Dante on Nov 2, 2019 14:52:43 GMT -5
Chapter Seven
“Remember when we all agreed to work quietly, so Hangfire wouldn’t learn of our plot to defeat him?” (p. 138) I really think this could have been done better. Perhaps if they emphasised the danger of the Department of Truancy coming after them again if they risked being together as a group, and maybe threw in the threat of their mail being intercepted somehow… But even so, Moxie and Kellar were literally living under the same roof! Maybe you could have emphasised how Kellar’s particular guilt made him want to bear his burden alone, to solve a problem he helped to create?
“Those railings would never hold” / “Not for long, anyway” (p. 143) This is a critical flaw not only in the puzzle solution, but also in a later action of Lemony’s.
“Cleo and I saw a masked figure climb aboard, just as the train pulled to a stop.” (p. 143) “Stew Mitchum opened the door for him […] in the very back of the very last car.” (p. 144) But on page 98, Stew Mitchum entered the prison car some minutes after the train stopped, from the direction of the opposite end of the train. For this to be true, he would have to either: 1. If guilty of the crime, slide back along the railings to the Officers’ Lounge, let Hangfire in, and then get back on the railings and slide several compartments in the opposite direction purely to intimidate some librarians. 2. If innocent, let Hangfire in while waiting in the Officers’ Lounge, pass through the corridor of the prison car while Lemony is standing in Cell One, and then turn back and re-enter once Lemony was in the corridor.
‘He keeps watch over Stain’d-by-the-Sea’s library for ten years, and then it ends on a rattly train.’ (p. 147) I don’t recall Snicket learning the exact figure for how long Qwerty had been the librarian. Qwerty was carefully ambiguous on the subject on ?1 page 75.
‘“It’s all a big question mark,” Jake said, with a grim grin’ (p. 152) A grin aimed squarely at the audience. Don’t think I don’t understand that allusion and that alliteration and what they mean together. The trouble with question marks is when you start answering those questions; like Snicket, about whose mysterious life we have an embarrassing wealth of detail, enough quite frankly for two lives, given all the contradictions. Fill in too many blanks, and what you’re left with is an ugly scribble.
‘in one of the chairs was a masked figure, staring out the window and holding a sad-looking apple. The figure made no move as I came in, and said nothing’ (p. 158) It would be easy to believe that this person was Hangfire, as no gender nor description is attributed them until the end of the chapter; but the atmosphere around this end of the chapter is all Ellington Feint.
“Blueberries picked in a field at the height of summer, miles and miles and miles from anywhere this train will go.” (p. 158) A personal reminiscence, I suspect.
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Post by Dante on Nov 3, 2019 16:31:41 GMT -5
Chapter Eight
‘Ellington Feint was a line in my mind running right down the middle of my life, separating the formal training of my childhood and the territory of the rest of my days.’ (p. 162) A demarcation of when life, hope and dreams stopped being simple.
‘a photograph I did not want to see’ (p. 164) Snicket’s decided on the truth.
“Dashiell Qwerty was a fine librarian” “I know he was” (p. 166) It’s a shame we never learn more about exactly what Ellington and Qwerty made of each other.
“Hangfire lurks in the background […] He doesn’t do anything himself.” (p. 167) This isn’t entirely true. He’s shown his hand and taken action on a number of occasions; beating up Theodora in ?1, killing Colonel Colophon…
‘He’s done everything he could to stop Cleo Knight from finishing her formula for invisible ink, a formula that might save Stain’d-by-the-Sea once and for all.’ (p. 169) Oh, is that what we’re pretending ?2 was about now? It almost works; but it doesn’t work.
“And maybe you’re wrong about who Hangfire is.” (p. 170) And has Ellington also guessed the truth; or at least, guessed what Lemony believes to be the truth?
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Post by Dante on Nov 4, 2019 17:02:26 GMT -5
Chapter Nine
‘His voice sounded like nothing. It was perhaps a little tired, as if he had imitated so many other voices that he could no longer remember what he really sounded like.’ (p. 179) This is an extension of ?3, where beyond Chapter Two Hangfire never bothered to speak at all. Come to that, Hangfire only really uses his ability of perfect vocal mimicry in ?1; he disguised himself as Colonel Colophon in ?2, sure, but it’s not as if he used that disguise on anyone who’d ever met Colonel Colophon, so he could have used whatever voice he liked. Hangfire as mimic is a plot point which is more or less replaced with Hangfire as shadow, anonymous.
‘He had terrible posture, I noticed. Something had hunched him over, like a storm can ravage a tree.’ (p. 181) This is also touched on in ?2, page 227: ‘His posture was bad, probably from his injuries.’
“Do you think the birds are the victims of a terrible plot? Are the stems of the seaweed villainous? Are the tiny fish to blame for this grave situation, because they never learned to live without water? Of course not, Snicket. Each creature is simply trying to get what it wants, and to make its way through a difficult world.” (p. 183) Hangfire’s amoral perspective here is a little different from the vengeful one implied in ?2.
“Would good people chop down a tree that was hundreds of years old, to erect a statue in honor of bloodshed? Would good people drain the sea, just so they could force ink out of the last few octopi?” (p. 184) Here, though, we get a flash of that vengefulness.
“You’ve tricked people into helping this town destroy itself, haven’t you?” (p. 185) But here Lemony denies again that vengefulness, and implies that the likes of Flammarion and Dander were not quite the willing accomplices of Hangfire that they seemed; that revenge on Stain’d-by-the-Sea was incidental, in a way.
“When your plan is completed, we’ll all be denizens of the natural, lawless world. Is that about right?” (p. 185) I’m not entirely sure where Snicket gets this from. After several volumes of Hangfire and the Inhumane Society trying to take revenge on Stain’d-by-the-Sea, suddenly Snicket says that Hangfire’s real plan was to destroy society. It’s hard to reconcile this with either Hangfire’s vengeful persona or even his amoral one of a couple of pages ago, if Hangfire’s plan is not simply to get what he wants, but to change the entire world for everyone else.
“You hid at Colophon Clinic” (pp. 186-187) I think this is the only time in the series where we see “Colophon Clinic” without a “the”.
‘Hangfire asked the question that is printed on the cover of this book.’ (p. 187) This line is strange. It’s curiously inconsequential and unadorned. It’s not even clear why Hangfire would bother to ask it.
“But V.F.D. stands for the true human tradition of justice and literature” (pp. 187-188) Hangfire seems to know an awful lot about V.F.D., including things like this which you’d expect only insiders to really be aware of. I’ve felt since ?3 that he was a disillusioned former member, but ATWQ doesn’t give us any information to this effect. It’s a detail I expanded on myself, instead, in The Stain’d Myth Murders.
“I noticed some black cardboard went missing” (p. 189) Hangfire sure pays attention to the tiny details. How did Ornette get that cardboard, again?
“I didn’t want to kill her, you know” (p. 192) This is the one line which makes me think that Hangfire did sincerely mean to kill Ellington here, and simply take the Bombinating Beast. However far behind he’d left his original personality, I find that hard to credit.
‘“You can get up now,” I said, and Ellington opened her eyes.’ (p. 193) This whole chapter is a silly sequence of trick and counter-trick. Hangfire wouldn’t have fired at her, and Lemony took Ellington’s pulse; in consequence, both Lemony and Hangfire know that Ellington isn’t dead, and what’s more, they almost certainly all know that everyone else knows it. What was the purpose of this charade? Just to make Lemony unsuspicious and get him out of the way of Hangfire and Ellington’s true rendezvous?
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Post by Dante on Nov 6, 2019 8:27:52 GMT -5
Chapter Ten
“Hangfire tricks people into helping with his plan and then gets rid of them when he’s done.” (p. 197) Well, that’s what he did with Sally Murphy, though he did it in a way which also made it extremely likely that she would be rescued… but since then? He’s never gotten rid of anyone. Lemony and his associates were the ones to capture Flammarion and Dander, and Sharon Haines and Stew Mitchum are still on Hangfire’s side! This is another way in which Lemony’s characterisation of Hangfire in this book doesn’t seem to fit with the series up to now.
“He sent Dr. Flammarion and Nurse Dander to jail. He threw Colonel Colophon out a window, and he drowned that actress in the basement.” (p. 197) This is an amazingly misleading statement that’s false on more or less all three counts; Hangfire didn’t send Flammarion and Dander to jail, Colophon was never his associate, and he failed to drown “that actress”, who has literally appeared multiple times in this very book. With that said, the real reason this sequence is here is to force Ellington to confront the possibility that her father is dead, and in a way, she’s right; and I can appreciate that.
‘“I’m not sure,” I lied.’ (p. 198) In relation to which, this line is clever.
‘“With all due respect,” I said, adopting an expression she’d used that would always make me think of her’ (p. 201) This is one way of contextualising ATWQ within the ASoUE we later know – that stray E in BB to LS #2 corresponding to ‘some villainess or other’ is another, though that one’s a very lucky coincidence. It does feel like a bit of an afterthought, though, given that Ellington only used this expression once, three pages ago.
‘She unzipped it and then there was a small object in her slender fingers.’ (p. 203) When did Ellington get the skeleton key? Last we saw it, Sharon Haines had it; which is in fact a clue to the fact that Sharon too is on board. Did this pair meet in the Officers’ Lounge, and Sharon gave Ellington the key? Why? It would actually make far more sense for Theodora to have held onto it – and used it to get into the cell, where Ellington would have been in prime position to have obtained it.
‘But Qwerty was not in the compartment.’ (p. 204) Strictly speaking, that doesn’t preclude him being alive, although of course he isn’t. It’s almost a shame; it would have been an amazing twist in a very different book.
“All of us rushed into the compartment and found Qwerty murdered, but nobody thought to look out the window.” (p. 205) Here’s where the puzzle solution starts to fall apart. Who is “all of us”, for instance; because the only person who rushed in was Lemony Snicket – and I suppose the Mitchums count, but they were just standing outside. However, in this same period of time, they’ve supposedly already let Ellington slip away in exchange for her silence. Why couldn’t the killer have left the same way? Was it not part of the plan that Stew’s parents would find out the truth about him, and Ellington betrayed him for her own benefit? That seems in-character, but unlikely, given that part of Hangfire’s plan must have involved letting Ellington loose as well.
“That railing looks decorative […] It won’t support my weight.” “It supported mine” (p. 205) That is a complete lie, another stretch of railing was coming away from the side of the carriage under Snicket’s weight and he nearly died. He himself acknowledged on pages 143 that the railings wouldn’t hold for long! It’s hard to say what Ellington’s weight is in comparison to Lemony’s, but it’s hard to imagine that Stew Mitchum weighs much less. Stew also had to go past that broken section, too.
‘I wrapped the belt crisscross around her’ (p. 206) How long is Snicket’s belt.
“We will attend masked balls at her castle” (p. 209) The Duchess of Winnipeg’s home was described as a mansion in the U.A.
‘You could burn down a whole glyptotheca and not find the statue you wanted to steal.’ (p. 211) This is an interesting insertion into the backstory, a suggestion that Hangfire was responsible for the fire in the Far West Wing, but it’s not clear that it makes sense. Burning down a building the Bombinating Beast statue was in was only likely to have destroyed the statue itself; and furthermore, Hangfire was still based in Killdeer Fields when he was investigating the correct possibility that the Mallahans possessed the statue, so it’s unlikely he’d have taken an interest in a glypotheca, especially since it was intended as a tourist attraction he could simply walk into and look around.
‘It is a relief, Snicket, how frightened she is. It means she’s never done it before.’ (p. 211) Ellington as the culprit was never possible because the culprit attacked from outside the cell, as the direction of the broken glass indicates. But it would have given her time to get away.
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Post by Dante on Nov 8, 2019 13:15:32 GMT -5
Chapter Eleven
“Ornette had Pip and Squeak taxi her to Offshore Island […] and she snuck aboard when the train stopped.” (p. 215) She was very lucky to have both time and opportunity to request their services in time to accomplish this; and she shouldn’t even have known that the train was going to make an unscheduled stop at Offshore Island, since Lemony didn’t find out until he went aboard, or he’d have done the same thing. Maybe she was going out there for something else – it’s likely she’d made the trip before, to steal some black cardboard – and got lucky. But it’s also difficult to credit that she missed Cleo and Jake doing the same thing – and they had to really race in the best car in the world to get there on time. The logistics of this book are problematic.
“We’re all responsible […] If my formula was done, we wouldn’t worry about Hangfire’s mess.” (p. 216) Firstly, that’s not really the problem here. Secondly, how is Jake responsible?
‘“I managed to distract them,” said Ornette, whose powers of distraction had helped us before’ (p. 216) The one time Ornette’s distracted people before, it was by using herself as a distraction from the actions of other people; which isn’t the same as distracting other people away from herself.
“I saw a masked figure enter the Café Compartment, before the bell even rang. I figured it was Hangfire.” (p. 216) The masks only cover a person’s face, not their hair and certainly not their build; but perhaps Ornette really only saw the mask.
“It wasn’t much of a cell […] not with the window shattered.” (p. 217) The implication here is directly contradictory to the statement that Ellington had never escaped along the side of the train before.
“Ellington Feint and Dashiell Qwerty shared Cell One […] She must have killed him.” (p. 217) Of course Moxie would moot this theory.
“Maybe the killer ran out of the compartment before anyone else arrived” / “The Mitchums were coming from the Officers’ Lounge […] and I was coming from the opposite direction. Somebody would have seen the murderer.” (p. 218) But of course the Mitchums saw Ellington, and she must have told the Mitchums who the murderer was anyway. If she had time to escape and the result was that the Mitchums knew their son was the culprit, then Stew’s escape method seems not only impossible but redundant.
“An adult would have been too heavy to hang on to the outside of the train. The killer was a child.” (p. 220) A child was too heavy to hang on to the outside of the train… until Chapter Four, apparently.
“Ellington didn’t commit the crime, but she witnessed it. When the Mitchums arrived on the scene, she traded her freedom for her silence about the killer. The officers granted her freedom, and hid her in the Officers’ Lounge while they covered up for the crime.” (p. 220) And another thing. If the Mitchums didn’t know in advance that Stew was going to commit this crime – which they can’t have, or he wouldn’t have needed to attack in secrecy – then why on Earth would they believe what Ellington had to say?
“It was Stew Mitchum who clung to the railings of The Thistle of the Valley, shot Dashiell Qwerty with a poison dart, and then escaped into a compartment full of librarians scared into hiding the truth.” (p. 221)
If you spell it out broadly, here’s everything that’s meant to have happened around the time the crime took place: Stew Mitchum, clinging onto the railings, shot Qwerty through the window; the Mitchums arrived immediately and Ellington trade her silence for her freedom; the Mitchums hid Ellington in the Officers’ Lounge while remaining stationed in the corridor; Stew slid along to the librarians’ compartment and burst in; he passed back along the train through the corridor and entered the Officers’ Lounge; he let Hangfire in. However, the physics and timings of this solution are irreparably broken.
Let’s break this solution to pieces.
1. It has been established that the railings will break under the weight of a child. (p. 143) 2. It has been established that the section of railing on Lemony’s carriage was bent away from the wall. (p. 58) 3. It has been established that the train stopped at the moment Lemony Snicket entered Cell One. (p. 91) 4. It has been established that Stew Mitchum was in the Officers’ Lounge at the moment the train stopped. (p. 144)
Conclusion: It was impossible for Stew Mitchum to have committed the crime. To do so, he would have to be a weightless, flying ghost who could be in two places at the same time! Now there’s an impossible crime problem for you.
But wait, there’s more. Consider the following problem: Even if we accept that the railings will hold, despite this being directly contradicted by Lemony’s own account, how did Stew Mitchum get onto the railings in the first place? Did he leap onto the railings from the outside the same way Snicket did? He can’t have been hanging on since the station, since he’d have been seen, but while it’s not clear how long it took for the train to leave town and start passing over the bridge, it’s hard to credit that he had opportunity to do so only shortly before the crime. Or if he climbed out of the window of one of the compartments – any compartment – then why didn’t he return the same way, rather than bursting in on the librarians? He can’t have left from the Officers’ Lounge, because his parents were in the Officers’ Lounge, and they can’t have been meant to know about the crime or he wouldn’t have had to act secretly; but his parents believed Ellington immediately and so they must have known.
How can Stew Mitchum have been in the Officers’ Lounge at the instant the train stopped, moments after the crime, when he only returned to the prison car from intimidating the librarians some minutes after the train had stopped? Additionally, Lemony was in the prison car within seconds – he was ‘moving to the door’ of his compartment immediately (p. 88), ‘hurried out’ into the corridor and ‘rushed to the end’ to open the sliding doors to the prison car (p. 89) – so how were the Mitchums so far ahead of him that Ellington had time to bargain for her freedom and escape into the Officers’ Lounge? There can’t even have been a minute between the crime being committed and Lemony entering the prison car, and more likely not even half that. And furthermore – if Stew Mitchum let Hangfire into the Officers’ Lounge the moment the train stopped, and the Mitchums had just hidden Ellington in the Officers’ Lounge – why didn’t the climax of this book happen in Chapter Four?
The solution to this mystery is broken. To be fair, it wouldn’t take much fixing – just a few lines here and there need tweaking – but as it stands, everything Snicket’s theorised is either impossible or irrational. No wonder I thought Hangfire had just stood on the end of the platform and shot Qwerty while the train was slowing down, since that also lines up with the given direction of the corridor windows at the time.
“I’ve never been this far […] not since they built this part of the railway line.” (p. 224) This is an interesting and rather bizarre remark. Does this suggest that the railway bridge over to the city was only built in the past few years – even though it’s clearly a vital commercial route for Stain’d-by-the-Sea? And how does this relate to my earlier speculation on the train routes connecting to the city; was there always a small train route running exclusively through town to Offshore Island, or is there indeed a train route on the other side of town, and thus another connection between Stain’d and the mainland?
“We must be on the edge of the Clusterous Forest.” (p. 225) So… does the bridge suddenly descend to below what would once have been sea level, or did the Clusterous Forest always grow at least in part on land, or does the bridge postdate the draining of the sea and descend into the valley at some point despite most of it being a bridge? None of these options make sense. I hope it’s merely that the seaweed of the Clusterous Forest has grown taller than it did while the sea was still there.
“My parents are only the law from the outskirts of Stain’d-by-the-Sea in the hinterlands to the boundary of the Clusterous Forest. We’ve passed that boundary now.” (p. 228) We’re literally in the forest? Or does that boundary extend outwards from the edge of the forest, for some reason?
“Sally Murphy worked for us, until Hangfire took care of her.” (p. 229) Do the Inhumane Society seriously not realise that Sally Murphy is still alive? Sure, she spent two books lying low, but she’s appeared unmasked in the open in this book; and she has one of Hangfire’s prisoners with her. How can this situation have come about?
“Hangfire has respect for the old superstitions” (p. 230) He respects them, but not because they’re superstitions. He respects them because they’re either useful – or true.
‘in an unlit corner was a masked figure seated in a chair with carved wooden legs. In the dim lounge I could see little more than the shiny mask and the curved claws that held up the chair.’ (p. 231) Not another black wood artefact! And why here?
“He tricked everyone with a story of a mythical monster he’s been keeping in a pond. With a little caviar sprinkled here and there, a few hungry tadpoles splashing in fishbowls, a heap of stolen melons, and an octopus or two scuffling in and out of a fire pond, you can have people believing anything.” (p. 232) Don’t hang an explained-supernatural rationalisation in front of me and then just jerk it away. It’s rude. But it’s interesting to see an alternative rational take, considering I was also mooting one in The Stain’d Myth Murders.
“I’ll unlock Cell Two once I have the statue in my hands.” “Unlock it with what?” (pp. 232-233) The whole point of this encounter was that Hangfire and Stew can make the Officers Mitchum do anything, so why this need for a skeleton key now?
‘The mask fell to the floor, and there stood Sharon Haines’ (p. 234) I had honestly forgotten about this plot twist. That explains how Ellington got the skeleton key. Are people seriously that indistinguishable in only a mask, though?
“You promised that if I boarded the train and pretended to be Hangfire” (p. 235) For all of this scene? When was she playing Hangfire before? She wasn’t Hangfire in Chapter Nine; and she can’t have been the Hangfire who entered the Officers’ Lounge when the train stopped, because she was at Stain’d Station while the train was in – unless we add a third car zooming across the drained valley towards Offshore Island without being noticed by the other two.
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Post by Dante on Nov 9, 2019 16:43:06 GMT -5
Chapter Twelve
‘Please come find me.’ (p. 237) Kit’s secret proximity is leveraged for a certain amount of dramatic irony.
‘They’d helped each other before. He had fired a dart, and she had lain on the floor pretending to be dead, in order to trick someone.’ (p. 238) A formal collaboration, or an ad hoc one? It’s difficult to imagine that any meeting between Ellington and Hangfire before now would have concluded without both of them getting what they wanted. Still, why bother tricking Snicket before when Hangfire could just have killed him?
“at last I can find the justice I’m looking for” (p. 240) And we’re back to the revenge motive, versus the destroying society motive.
“Your mother, Mallahan, was a journalist searching for the truth, but she didn’t have the courage to face what she found. Your parents, Hix, are too scared to come back to town, even to fetch their son.” (p. 242) This confirms what must be true for Hangfire’s backstory, that he knows the town and its residents to some degree. But what was the truth that Moxie’s mother learnt, and what scared the Hixes off? Speaking of them and being too afraid to return for their son, there is such a thing as mail or telephone.
“I’ve done everything you asked me to do, over and over again, but I won’t hand over the statue until I see him.” (p. 243) So they have indeed met and collaborated in the past without the statue changing hands? This is also useful for confirming Ellington’s allegiance in regards to the plans in ?3.
‘Maybe you’re as peaceful as you were before all this began.’ (p. 245) It’s interesting to think of something being able to restore Hangfire’s inner peace in this manner. It even seems to happen.
“What’s that behind you?” (p. 245) What a cheap trick for the final confrontation to turn on. It works, though – dramatically and thematically, I mean.
‘I held the statue to my mouth, and then I simply breathed and kept still.’ (p. 247) People called from ?1 that the Bombinating Beast statue would be able to summon the real thing, though it was presented as more of a magical affair. I didn’t believe it then, and I’m not particularly happy about it now.
‘It travelled in some other way, some way that science has not yet discovered.’ (p. 248) I at least appreciate the concession that it wasn’t just magic.
‘It rushed unbound and unsupervised across the dark countryside the town had ruined.’ (p. 249) At a heck of a speed to catch up to the train so quickly after it’s travelled so far in such a long time, but perhaps the Beast itself travelled in some way that science had not yet discovered, too.
‘There was a tremendous clang as it hit the train, and The Thistle of the Valley tumbled off the tracks and fell into the crackling seaweed of the Clusterous Forest.’ (p. 250) The seaweed breaking the train’s fall from the height of the bridge, I hope.
‘He looked content, as if something at last was his, as peaceful as he did in Ellington’s photograph of him.’ (p. 252) Another motive which nobody ever considered: Scientific curiosity. In the end, that’s what really satisfied Armstrong Feint. He could live with this result.
‘I stood up and did something Hangfire had done all over town. / I gave him a push in the right direction.’ (p. 254) I actually anticipated ending The Stain’d Myth Murders this way. I didn’t think Handler would do it; for that matter, I actually thought Hangfire’s death was going to be the premise of ?4. I was wrong; and I changed my own plot accordingly, twice. My original premise might have been better, but I like my ending as much, too.
Consider the following theory, though: There was never a mythical monster literally on the scene. The Bombinating Beast is a symbol and a metaphor, as its equivalent was before. The monster was only the murderous rage summoned in Lemony Snicket’s heart as he pushed a man out of the window of a moving train; and this is why it moves in sympathy with him…
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Post by Dante on Nov 10, 2019 16:59:18 GMT -5
Chapter Thirteen‘Her expression was grim, and her eyes looked dark and haunted, like the dead windows of so many other buildings in town. I looked from her to the others, and everywhere it was the same. Friend or enemy, associate or stranger, they all shrank from me’ (p. 258) As a murderer, Lemony now bears the mark of Cain and is an object of fear and horror to all who look upon him. ‘I stepped out of the compartment into the corridor and disembarked from the train.’ (p. 258) Ambiguously suggests that the train doors are indeed on the corridor side, as they must be (but are never outright stated to be). ‘Some of the cargo cars were overturned, and a few splashes of ink had spilled onto the ground in dark stains.’ (p. 259) Back on page 25 these were open-topped and empty. ‘a battered yellow taxi rattled into view. The Bellerophon brothers’ taxicab looked like it’d had a very hard time following The Thistle of the Valley’ (p. 260) But… but why? They were fine just letting Ornette off at Offshore Island to sneak aboard on her own. Maybe she didn’t originally head over to the island intending to catch the train, as I speculated, and the Bellerophons changed their own plans after seeing what she ended up doing, perhaps after running across the parked Dilemma, and so on. “You should probably stop listening to me” (p. 261) An acknowledgement, I think, that from now on Lemony’s advice can no longer be considered reliable, and as a person he can no longer be considered a suitable compatriot. “Adults moved out of town and left their children behind.” (p. 264) This makes everything about Stain’d-by-the-Sea’s backstory read as extremely recent, well within the recent lifetimes of Jake, Moxie et al. Other clues here and there make it seem as if it all happened years ago. That was the interpretation I found more interesting, personally, and followed in The Stain’d Myth Murders. “A naturalist was distressed over what had been done to the sea and its creatures, and took inspiration from the wild and lawless ways of the untamed world, and from the old myths and superstitions that were around before Stain’d-by-the-Sea even existed. He gathered whatever associates he could find into an ad hoc organization.” (p. 265) This passage attempts to present a continuity between the old Armstrong Feint who was good and kind, and the ruthless Hangfire; almost a deliberate change of policy, rather than a slow erosion of personality or years spent hiding from his true self. Also, I see the other members of the Inhumane Society are associates again now rather than mere tools being tricked by Hangfire. “As a brilliant scientist, he could have saved the town, but instead he fed on the loneliness and discontent of the fading town, and pushed people in the direction he thought was right.” (p. 267) I raise my eyebrows at the idea that it was in Armstrong Feint’s power to save Stain’d-by-the-Sea. In any case, from his perspective, what was there to save? He was a naturalist, and the wildlife had already lost. He cared about the wildlife around the town, so why should he care about the people who’d destroyed it? “So the villain spread a frightening rumour, that a mythological creature was returning to Stain’d-by-the-Sea, a wild, lawless thing that could destroy the town once and for all.” (p. 267) Not really he didn’t. He seems to have done everything in his power to stop the truth from getting out; that’s what the plot of ?3 was for. “It’s been around for a very long time, and so naturally there are wild and fantastic stories. But it’s just an animal, trying to get what it wants, and to make its way through a difficult world. The underwater plants that hid the creature found a way to survive when the sea was drained away, but the Bombinating Beast needed a new home. Hangfire provided that home. He harvested the eggs in whatever damp places he could find. When they hatched, he kept the creature in fishbowls and then in bigger and bigger bodies of water.” […] “The beast was molting […] shedding its skin, and growing.” […] “Eventually the creatures would get old enough to feed on the children themselves.” […] “Perhaps it has many siblings.” (pp. 267-269) This long segment is seriously ambiguous as to whether the Bombinating Beast is literally the ancient monster itself, or merely one of a new breed whose eggs Hangfire rehoused and nurtured. It starts off being just the ancient parent, but then becomes one sibling of a potential many. For my part, it seems clear to me that the Bombinating Beasts being new and reborn, rather than an old one having survived all this time, is the option that makes more sense. “It’s a fragmentary plot, so I can’t send my complete report to one place. That way the history of these times can’t be destroyed in one blow.” (p. 272) Evidently we reach Stain’d-by-the-Sea before the invention of the photocopier, or the concept of writing out multiple copies. “You’ve been tricking me since the night we met, in order to push me in the right direction. You knew all along, didn’t you? You knew Hangfire was my father.” (p. 276) There was a clue from their very first meeting. Certainly, some of us knew. “You could have told me what you had” (p. 277) Be fair, Snicket. She was only lying about it for half the series. “All the volunteers are doing their jobs—all of us except you. You threw a wrench in the works, Snicket. Instead of drinking your tea like a good boy, you left your sister to do a two-person caper all alone, and now you’ve mucked up our job of making sure no one interfered with the volunteers on board.” (p. 281) Gifford and Ghede here confirm what’s been in the air a while, that despite what Snicket himself believed, they were drugging him in order to help him go about his plan with Kit; and to prevent him from being taken out of the city with Theodora. And they had to drug him, presumably, because he wouldn’t have taken their word for it; or perhaps they just weren’t in a position to communicate the truth to him, in public, say. We know they aren’t very good at their job, though, so it’s reasonable to think that they just thought drugging him would be easier. But this firmly confirms, it seems to me, that Gifford and Ghede always supported the Snickets’ plan – though whether V.F.D. formally did isn’t so certain. Similarly, whatever happened to the mysterious item the Snickets were after, and even why it was so important, is lost to the winds. It’s the second coming of the sugar bowl (or the zeroth, I suppose). To put it another way, the item reads to me as very positively an attempt to retroactively introduce a worthy answer to the question of what’s in the sugar bowl. We know the item is mysterious, influential, difficult to get hold of and easy to lose; and rather than becoming an empty, dead plot hook, then saying that it becomes the contents of the sugar bowl actually gives it a resolution and a role in continuity. If it’s what’s in the sugar bowl, it matters; and because its true characteristics are unknown, it cannot truly contradict any of the established clues in ASoUE. It’s perfect. ‘This was the right cell, where Theodora had been, and she hadn’t been here alone. I had been told this. I had been told there were more volunteers on the train, but it hadn’t meant anything to me until this moment, holding the statue and letting Ellington go.’ (pp. 283-284) Here it is, the big twist, the one you’re meant to kick yourself over and wonder how you could have missed it. How you could have missed it is that it doesn’t make sense. Every reference to Kit Snicket, not just in every previous book but in this one, states that she’s in the city; she was working in the city, committed her theft in the city, was arrested, put on trial, jailed in the city. Kit Snicket is in the city. So why would she now be on a train going to the city? A train which it’s very reasonable to read the book as indicating actually meets the end of the line in Stain’d-by-the-Sea? Why would Kit have been shipped out somewhere else only to be brought back again? And more importantly – why would anyone reading this book ever assume that to be the case? We don’t have the clues to anticipate this, and we don’t have the information to understand this. So this twist, and the implication that it’s the sort of thing we should have seen coming, falls entirely flat. (Also, I don’t think Lemony was ever told there were more volunteers on the train until just now.) “Your apprentice’s foolishness has derailed our plan […] We need to get this whole thing back on track.” (p. 286) What is their plan? To take Kit back to the city and put her in prison again? Everything about this would make more sense if the train was going away from the city. ‘It was not necessary for the denizens of Stain’d-by-the-Sea to help me, just as it was not necessary for me to tell them all I knew. I knew that Moxie’s mother would never send for her, just as I knew Pip and Squeak’s father was gone forever.’ (p. 288) This is an interesting use of ‘knew’; has Lemony actually inferred all of this information, or is he indicating that he actually investigated and dug up the truth at some point? It’s not as if we haven’t come to similar conclusions. ‘The sky was getting lighter and I was whistling the tune Ellington had played me, first on a Hangfire phonograph and then on a music box her father had given her. She had not told me the name of the tune. It was a mystery, like what the S stood for in Theodora’s name. I kept walking, with nothing but solitude for company. “Solitude” is a fancy name for being all by yourself. It’s not a bad name, I thought.’ (p. 289) The confirmation, one of in the end many, that the tune Ellington’s been playing is Duke Ellington’s ‘Solitude’. But this doesn’t have anything to do with Theodora. She doesn’t have anything to do with this tune, or with solitude. There are no clues indicating this to be her name, and if this is meant to confirm it, it comes out of nowhere and hardly feels appropriate. So I hereby declare this a red herring and proudly present: The “What does the S stand for?” Index“Stop asking the wrong questions” (?1, p. 13) “Someplace else” (?1, p. 21) “Standing next to me is my apprentice” (?1, p. 39) “Silly boy” (?1, p. 65) ‘a very rude gesture’ [Note I: Antenora proposes a reading of “shut up”] [Note II: Assumes Theodora understood Snicket’s gestured question] (?1, p. 122) “Silence” (?2, p. 18) “Such a tone!” [Note: Question technically “Tell me what the S stands for” in this instance] (?2, p. 268) “Snide answers aren’t proper” [Note: Question technically “tell me exactly what the S stands for in your name”] ( File Under, p. 2) “What?” [Note: Didn’t hear the question] “ See you Sunday!” [Note II: Question technically “ What does the S stand for in your name?”] ( File Under, p. 59) “Smart” “You’re a smart boy, Snicket, but you need to apply yourself.” (?3, p. 24) “Slide in, Snicket.” (?3, p. 45) “Stop asking” [Note: ‘I occasionally asked her what the S stood for in her name’] (?4, p. 3) “Surely there’s an explanation for this” (?4, p. 283) Grammatically correct interpretations which involve Theodora giving Lemony an accurate answer: “ Standing. Next to me is my apprentice.” “ Silly, boy.” “Silence.” “Shirley. There’s an explanation for this.” I regrettably discount “Smart,” which is a red herring that’s immediately contradicted; and “Sunday,” which would have fitted very nicely into a pattern established in ASoUE but which doesn’t fit the grammar. My grand conclusion on the truth behind what the S stands for is, therefore, “Silence,” perhaps sometimes abbreviated to “Silly”. It’s the only possible answer that she actually gives solely as a statement in itself, she only reveals it in a moment of frustration, and she wouldn’t ordinarily reveal it as her answer would be understood as a rebuke. The potential abbreviation is both logical and given by Theodora specifically in the context of female individuals with ridiculous names. Daniel Handler has stated that the truth of the S is “ right there in the text”, and this fulfils that requirement in the words of S. Theodora Markson herself. As all the clues point to this solution, I hereby declare it provisionally canon, and all rival answers must demonstrate a more convincing textual foundation than this one.
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Post by Carrie E. Abelabudite on Dec 4, 2019 23:43:01 GMT -5
General Notes
Overall, I’d say this is the best book out of the series. I think it brings all of the events of the previous books to a climax in a really enjoyable way. With that said, the setting can feel a bit constraining at points, especially since the whole story takes place over such a short space of time. I like the colour scheme for the illustrations and the cover, though Lemony's hand and foot do look somewhat out of proportion.
Chapter One
‘“Is it more beastly to be a murderer or to let one go free?”’ Of course, by the end of the book, Lemony has done both.
‘We no longer saw each other as much as we used to,’ How long is it after the events of SYBIS? I wouldn’t have thought it could be more than a few weeks, but this suggests that it might be longer.
‘“Ornette was the one who smelled the smoke, which runs in the family too.”’ Seems like the Lost family should have been targeted by VFD – or maybe they have been.
‘“There are some stories you never get to finish.”’ This book for the most part feels very similar to TPP, but here we get an echo of TE.
Chapter Two
‘“The lawyer does his best at the trial, but the town finds Tom guilty just the same.”’ Maybe that’s why Lemony doesn’t like the book.
It’s interesting that Lemony thinks that no one has need of old newspapers, when we know that in ASOUE several characters are able to access valuable information by reading them.
‘“The most interesting things happen when we’re supposed to be in bed.”’ Isn’t there a quote in ASOUE about bedtime arriving just when things are getting really interesting? Or maybe it’s just in Horseradish.
Chapter Three
‘You’ve already had a very interesting childhood, Lemony Snicket.’ I’m not sure ‘interesting’ is the first word I’d use to describe it. Reading Lemony’s description of the archery training trip, it’s hard to tell if he genuinely does think it was exciting, or if he’s being somewhat critical of VFD and their training methods.
‘It was a mark in her skin that would last forever,’ A chilling reminder of just how much most of these children have sacrificed for VFD.
Chapter Four
‘“You can get anything printed on a card like this,” the man said. “It’s the easiest disguise in the world.”’ I wonder how many of Lemony’s life lessons he imparts in ASOUE were based on things he learnt in VFD as a child.
Also, Gifford and Ghede seem really, really incompetent here. I’m surprised their plan worked as well as it has.
‘“Gifford and Ghede are not at all like me.”’ This could just be Lemony railing against the leadership in the older generation of VFD. But it could also imply they are on the other side of the schism. I mean, I don’t know if there is really enough evidence to support this, but the disagreement between Gifford/Ghede and Theodora/Qwerty is the closest thing we see to different factions of the organisation working against each other in this series.
Again, I find the thread of the whereabouts of the Bombinating Beast sculpture very confusing, and the existence of the decoy only adds to this.
‘“villainy is like a bad guest. If it accepts your invitation, it leaves its terrible mess everywhere you look.”’ This has a lot of resonance throughout the series and in ASOUE.
Chapter Five
Starting the chapter with Lemony’s statement to the Officers Mitchum is really powerful.
‘“Stew Mitchum,” I said. “Shouldn’t you be in school?” “That’s an old question,” Stew said.’ Ha!
‘It would have been a good time for truth, and for justice.’ This line in particular reminds me of the trial scene in TPP, especially the part when Olaf says that justice isn’t being served.
‘One of the truths of the world is that the world often snorts at the truth.’ Stew here reminds me of Olaf in TWW, when Lemony says that only a terrible person wouldn’t care for the truth. Here, his view seems more bleak.
Chapter Six
‘Criminals were afoot and so was I,’ I really like this line, especially since the lines between these two categories become more blurred by the end of the book.
Sally Murphy really isn’t a very good actress. Or, at least, she isn’t very good at thinking on her feet and staying calm under duress, which I guess isn’t exactly the same thing, but you’d think such a famous local legend would be able to pull off a more convincing performance.
Walleye, Pocket and Eratosthenes sort of remind me of Ishmael, they way they want to keep the peace at any cost.
This is really a pretty dark ending for Mimi and Harvey. I mean, they’ve never exactly been admirable characters, but now they seem downright malicious, even if they’re also ashamed of their actions to a degree. I guess this parallels Lemony’s arc, too.
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