Book Review—Enola Holmes and the Black Barouche

Enola is the younger sister of Sherlock, and though the book does not give her exact age, she seems to be an older teenager. Being unusually tall, she can carefully choose dresses or frocks and exude enough of an air of confidence that she can pass as an adult. Mostly.

When Sherlock is too moody to listen to a woman who begs for his help, Enola takes her on as a client. The young woman shows her a rather terse letter she received the day before that announced the death of her twin sister. She had been married to an Earl for only two years. Now the young woman only has the letter and an urn of the cremated remains.

The earl has a nice reputation, but Enola has her own suspicions based on the letter. The young woman says that twins share a special bond, so she knows her sister is not dead. And when Sherlock stirs himself from his gloomy mood to examine the ashes, he declares …

Let us just say the game is afoot.

Enola Holmes and the Black Barouche by Nancy Springer is the seventh book in the Enola Holmes series. How “real” is Enola? Let’s just say she is as real as her older brother Sherlock and their older brother Mycroft.

Did I like the plot? Well, not so much. Since this is not a negative blog, why am I reviewing it? First, as to the plot, Enola does not use incredible deductive reasoning the way Sherlock does. She mainly relies on social connections and blind luck. But the story zips along, especially the part where she is in an out-of-control gig pulled by a wild mare. More importantly to me, it is rich in Victorian vocabulary. Don’t know what a barouche is? Do not bother to look it up; it will become clear with the context. The same with reticule and so many other words. And there are many, many details on how Enola and other women dress, which female readers tend to be fascinated with.

A serious drawback for me is that Enola views Dr. Watson as “dense.” For shame. That is not how Watson is described in the original Sherlock Holmes stories. Still, this book is a keeper.

P.S. The prologue is written from Sherlock’s viewpoint. I skipped it and understood the story quite well.

4th of July—Bellevue Park

As usual, I went to the Bellevue Downtown Park, on the south side of Bellevue Square (a suburb of Seattle). It was very subdued this year: not many food trucks, not much music playing, no portable climbing wall so young people could show their astonishing skills.

The ducks were still there.

Where are they going?

Very skillful. They perch on the edge of the waterfall.

For context, this is what the waterfall looks like. (The white railing at top is waist high.)

As a nice touch, the trees were festooned with Japanese lanterns.

I didn't stay to see the fireworks or hear the music afterwards, since it's a school night, as the saying goes.