Lemony Snicket Goes to the Orchestra in The Composer Is Dead

About a decade ago, my aunt introduced me to A Series of Unfortunate Events, Lemony Snicket’s 13-volume series of books involving the industrious Baudelaire orphans, who face a relentless barrage of misery after the death of their parents. The books are macabre and a bit repetitive, and most of the characters feel over-the-top and not very layered. However, there’s something deliciously fun about them, especially Snicket’s snarky, overly involved narrative style. I was sad when the series came to an end in 2006, so whenever Snicket releases something new, I’m pleased to hear about it.

My brother Nathan knows of and shares my appreciation for Snicket, whose real name is Daniel Handler, so last Christmas, he gave me his latest book, The Composer Is Dead. As a bonus, Carson Ellis, who has done album artwork for the Decemberists, one of Nathan’s favorite musical groups, illustrated this picture book, a good fit since the band, like Snicket, is known for delving into some pretty grotesque topics. What’s more, the story is a multi-media experience, since it includes an 18-track CD featuring narration by Snicket and music composed by Nathaniel Stookey and performed by the San Francisco Symphony.

Snicket’s distinct narrative style is fairly apparent here, though not as pronounced as it might be since the book is quite heavy on dialogue, particularly from the verbose Inspector. Still, some of the trademarks, such as self-reference and defining words, remain. Additionally, he has a lot of fun with personifying the musical instruments, all of whom are suspects in the investigation that follows the death of the Composer. I think perhaps my favorite description is of the Cellos and Basses, who are “often weary from dragging their large bodies around.” When it comes to dialogue, meanwhile, I love the sly Clarinets, who butter the vain Inspector up by showering him with compliments on his suit jacket.

You can read through the book without the benefit of the CD, and you’ll most likely finish it much more quickly, as it takes Snicket about half an hour to get through the story, what with breaks for music and the occasional off-script babbling, such as when Snicket wonders if he might be able to grab a sandwich before he continues with his reading. You’ll still have the benefit of Ellis’s pictures, which have a drab look to them, rarely venturing much beyond black, white and shades of brown. I love the picture of the composer slumped over his desk, quill in hand, as sheet music slides onto the floor. While most of the illustrations are detailed, each of the instruments is shown in silhouette form at the time of introduction, which creates a stark effect comparable to a mug shot.

Still, listening to the CD while looking at the pictures is really the best way to enjoy this book. Snicket doesn’t exactly have the sort of narrative voice I would expect to go with his gothic style; it’s really just a very ordinary American voice, but he makes up different voices for each of the characters, and that’s what we hear the most of anyway. I would estimate that for probably about half the time in the first nine tracks, he doesn’t speak at all, instead letting the instruments shine in their natural form. When my mom heard me playing this, she said, “So is this like Peter and the Wolf, Lemony Snicket style?” Not exactly, but the instruments definitely have particular personalities, and the music they play is consistent with their verbal characterization. Meanwhile, the last nine tracks are fun to listen to by themselves as long as you don’t mind a bit of dead air from time to time. Aside from some brass blasts, it would make pretty relaxing ambient music.

As a strict mystery, the book is a bit of a cheat. Snicket is more interested in spoofing the genre and making a point about the value of listening to orchestral music than he is in putting together an actual mystery. Hence, some might be disappointed with the unconventional ending. However, the book serves as a great introduction to various types of instruments and also includes a rather epic list of composers that kids intrigued by instrumental music may want to investigate further. From Beethoven and Mozart to Copeland and Shostakovich, many of the greats are included, which might prompt discussions with parents about their favorite composers. It’s a wonderful way to generate excitement about the orchestra, so while the Composer is dead, this book is alive with the sound of music.

Trenton Lee Stewart Introduces Another Great Series with The Mysterious Benedict Society

In 2006, I turned the last page in A Series of Unfortunate Events. In 2007, I bid a reluctant farewell to Harry Potter. This year, I opened the first volume of The Mysterious Benedict Society. Perhaps I have found a worthy successor to those most excellent series.

This hefty middle grade novel by Trenton Lee Stewart reminded me of both. Instead of three orphaned children with unusual talents, it features four Well, not all are strictly orphaned, but as Reynie, the leader of the little group, observes, each child is, in some sense, alone. They respond to a curious ad in the paper promising "special opportunities" to those who pass a series of unusual tests. After they meet each other, it becomes clear that each has passed the tests using very different methods. It's their complementary ways of looking at the world that make them such ideal teammates.

Reynie Muldoon is the first character we meet, and Stewart allows us into his head more than the others'. A good-natured lad who is very intelligent but despises school, Reynie's specialty is puzzling things out. If some sort of trickery is afoot, Reynie is likely to pick up on it. As a lifelong loner, he loves the fact that he now has friends but is mystified by the way they look to him for leadership in all of their decisions. George Washington, a nervous, bespectacled boy who prefers to be called Sticky, is incredibly well-read, and his memory is impeccable. While he is plagued with insecurities, Sticky's extensive knowledge, particularly of Morse Code, is invaluable to the group.

Cheerful Kate Wetherall is a bundle of energy. Undaunted by whatever challenges lie in her path, she goes tumbling headfirst into danger, always concocting a clever, physically taxing scheme to achieve her ends. Petite Constance Contraire is the last to join the group, and though the others find it difficult to bond with her, since she always seems to be cranky, and question what unique abilities qualify her for their impending mission, they trust Mr. Benedict's assurances that her value will soon become apparent.

Mr. Benedict is the eccentric old man who organized the tests, and he gives the foursome a sense of stability that the Baudelaire orphans lack. He might well be compared to Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter's sage headmaster. Like the famed wizard, he offers guidance but also leaves his young charges to figure out many things on their own. His special task involves sending them to a prestigious institute as uninviting as the one featured in The Austere Academy. There, they must try to excel and thereby learn as many of founder Ledroptha Curtain's secrets as they can without getting sucked into his web of illusions.

The Institute has an oppressive aura about it, like something out of 1984; most of the students seem to have been brainwashed, and it's doubtful whether any one of the children could resist the subtle seductions of Mr. Curtain and his machinery for long if they didn't have each other. Though they know Mr. Benedict and his friends are keeping an eye on them, they have no allies within the Institute itself, with the possible exception of S. Q. Pedalian, a bumbling Executive (a glorified hall monitor, among other things) who always treats them kindly but remains loyal to Mr. Curtain. This dim-witted young man who reminds me a bit of Stan Shunpike, conductor of the Knight Bus in the Harry Potter series, is my favorite of the minor characters, and I'm anxious to see in what direction the sequel will take him.

Part of the book's fun is trying to figure out the solutions to riddles and the meanings of clues before the main characters do. The most interesting revelations are character-related, and I confess that most of them took me by surprise, though a forehead-slapping "Of course!" soon followed. Stewart does an especially good job of resolving certain character traits and back stories as the novel draws to a close. The book is on the long side at nearly 500 pages, but there are almost 40 chapters, so the narrative is broken up into nice, manageable chunks.

It's too early for me to decide just where The Mysterious Benedict Society fits in with some of the intermediate series I've most enjoyed, but I certainly like it enough to pick up the second book and follow Reynie, Sticky, Kate and Constance through their next great adventure.