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As Chimney Sweepers Come to Dust

A Flavia de Luce Novel

Flavia de Luce-"part Harriet the Spy, part Violet Baudelaire from Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events" (The New York Times Book Review)-takes her remarkable sleuthing prowess to the unexpectedly unsavory world of Canadian boarding schools in the captivating new mystery from internationally bestselling author Alan Bradley.

Banished! is how twelve-year-old Flavia de Luce laments her predicament, when her father and Aunt Felicity ship her off to Miss Bodycote's Female Academy, the boarding school that her mother, Harriet, once attended across the sea in Canada. The sun has not yet risen on Flavia's first day in captivity when a gift lands at her feet. Flavia being Flavia, a budding chemist and sleuth, that gift is a charred and mummified body, which tumbles out of a bedroom chimney. Now, while attending classes, making friends (and enemies), and assessing the school's stern headmistress and faculty (one of whom is an acquitted murderess), Flavia is on the hunt for the victim's identity and time of death, as well as suspects, motives, and means. Rumors swirl that Miss Bodycote's is haunted, and that several girls have disappeared without a trace. When it comes to solving multiple mysteries, Flavia is up to the task-but her true destiny has yet to be revealed.

Acclaim for Alan Bradley's beloved Flavia de Luce novels, winners of the Crime Writers' Association Debut Dagger Award, Barry Award, Agatha Award, Macavity Award, Dilys Winn Award, and Arthur Ellis Award

"If ever there were a sleuth who's bold, brilliant, and, yes, adorable, it's Flavia de Luce."-USA Today

"This idiosyncratic young heroine continues to charm."-The Wall Street Journal

"Delightful . . . a combination of Eloise and Sherlock Holmes."-The Boston Globe
Rezension
Praise for As Chimney Sweepers Come to Dust

"Flavia de Luce [is] perhaps contemporary crime fiction's most original character-to say she is Pippi Longstocking with a Ph.D. in chemistry (speciality: poisons) barely begins to describe her."-Maclean's

"Another treat for readers of all ages . . . [As Chimney Sweepers Come to Dust] maintains the high standards [Alan] Bradley set from the start."-Booklist

"Exceptional . . . [The] intriguing setup only gets better, and Bradley makes Miss Bodycote's a suitably Gothic setting for Flavia's sleuthing. Through it all, her morbid narrative voice continues to charm."-Publishers Weekly (starred review)

"Even after all these years, Flavia de Luce is still the world's greatest adolescent British chemist/busybody/sleuth."-The Seattle Times

"Plot twists come faster than Canadian snowfall. . . . Bradley's sense of observation is as keen as gung-ho scientist Flavia's. . . . The results so far are seven sparkling Flavia de Luce mysteries."-Library Journal

"A rattling good 'girls' own adventure' yarn with an extensive cast of characters and suspects . . . When all is revealed, the links, misunderstandings and secrecy have a satisfying click."-Winnipeg Free Press

"A delightful installment in the series!"-LibraryReads

Acclaim for Alan Bradley's beloved Flavia de Luce novels, winners of the Crime Writers' Association Debut Dagger Award, Barry Award, Agatha Award, Macavity Award, Dilys Winn Award, and Arthur Ellis Award

"If ever there were a sleuth who's bold, brilliant, and, yes, adorable, it's Flavia de Luce."-USA Today

"Part Harriet the Spy, part Violet Baudelaire from Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events, Flavia is a pert and macabre pragmatist."-The New York Times Book Review

"This idiosyncratic young heroine continues to charm."-The Wall Street Journal

"Delightful . . . a combination of Eloise and Sherlock Holmes."-The Boston Globe

From the Hardcover edition.
Portrait
Alan Bradley is the New York Times bestselling author of many short stories, children's stories, newspaper columns, and the memoir The Shoebox Bible. His first Flavia de Luce novel, The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, received the Crime Writers' Association Debut Dagger Award, the Dilys Award, the Arthur Ellis Award, the Agatha Award, the Macavity Award, and the Barry Award, and was nominated for the Anthony Award. His other Flavia de Luce novels are The Weed That Strings the Hangman's Bag, A Red Herring Without Mustard, I Am Half-Sick of Shadows, Speaking from Among the Bones, The Dead in Their Vaulted Arches, As Chimney Sweepers Come to Dust, Thrice the Brinded Cat Hath Mew'd, and The Grave's a Fine and Private Place, as well as the ebook short story "The Curious Case of the Copper Corpse."
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  • ONE

    "Banished!" the wild wind shrieked as it tore at my face.
    "Banished!" the savage waves roared as they drenched me with freezing water.
    "Banished!" they howled. "Banished!"
    There is no sadder word in the English language. The very sound of it--like echoing iron gates crashing closed behind you; like steel bolts being shot shut--makes your hair stand on end, doesn't it?
    "Banished!"
    I shouted the word into the tearing wind, and the wind spat it back into my face.
    "Banished!"
    I was standing at the heaving prow of the R.M.S. Scythia, my jaws wide open to the gale, hoping that the salt spray would wash the bad taste out of my mouth: the taste that was my life so far.
    Somewhere, a thousand miles behind us over the eastern horizon, lay the village of Bishop's Lacey and Buckshaw, my former home, where my father, Colonel Haviland de Luce, and my sisters, Ophelia and Daphne, were most likely, at this very moment, getting on nicely with their lives as if I had never existed.
    They had already forgotten me. I was sure of it.
    Only the faithful family retainers, Dogger and Mrs. Mullet, would have shed a furtive tear at my departure, but even so, they, too, in time, would have only foggy memories of Flavia.
    Out here on the wild Atlantic, the Scythia's bow was hauling itself up . . . and up . . . and up out of the sea, climbing sickeningly toward the sky, then crashing down with a horrendous hollow booming, throwing out great white wings of water to port and starboard. It was like riding bareback on an enormous steel angel doing the breaststroke.
    Although it was still early September, the sea was madness. We had encountered the remnants of a tropical hurricane, and now, for more than two days, had been tossed about like a cast--off cork.
    Everyone except the captain and I--or so it seemed--had dragged themselves off to their bunks, so that the only sounds to be heard as one reeled along the pitching, rolling corridors to dinner were the groan of stressed steel and, behind closed doors on either side, the evacuation of scores of stomachs. With nearly nine hundred passengers on board, it was a sobering sound.
    As for me, I seem to be blessed with a natural immunity to the tossing seas: the result, I supposed, of seafaring ancestors such as Thaddeus de Luce, who, although only a lad at the Battle of Trafalgar, was said to have brought lemonade to the dying Admiral Nelson, and to have held his cold and clammy hand.
    Nelson's last words, actually, were not the widely reported "Kiss me, Hardy," addressed to Captain Thomas Hardy of the Victory, but rather, "Drink, drink . . . fan, fan . . . rub, rub," whispered feverishly to the wide--eyed young Thaddeus, who, although reduced to tears at the sight of his mortally wounded hero, was doing his best to keep the great man's circulation from crystallizing.
    The wind ripped at my hair and tore at my thin autumn coat. I inhaled the salt air as deeply as I dared, the sea spray running in torrents down my face.
    A hand seized my arm roughly.
    "What the devil do you think you're doing?"
    I spun round, startled, trying to wriggle free.
    It was, of course, Ryerson Rainsmith.
    "What the devil do you think you're doing?" he repeated. He was one of those people who thought that the secret of gaining the upper hand was to ask every question twice.
    The best way of dealing with them is not to answer.
    "I've been looking everywhere for you. Dorsey is beside herself with worry."
    "Does that mean there are now two of her to put up with?" I wanted to ask, but I didn't.
    With a name like Dorsey it was no wonder he called her "Dodo"--or at least he did whenever he thought they were alone.
    "We were afraid you'd fallen overboard. Now come below at once. Go to your cabin and put on some dry clothing. You look like a drowned rat."
    That did it. It was the last straw.
    Ryers
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Beschreibung

Produktdetails

Einband Taschenbuch
Seitenzahl 416
Erscheinungsdatum 04.08.2015
Sprache Englisch
ISBN 978-0-8129-9923-5
Reihe Flavia de Luce (englisch)
Verlag Random House LCC US
Maße (L/B/H) 17,7/10,8/3,7 cm
Gewicht 200 g
Verkaufsrang 23553
Buch (Taschenbuch, Englisch)
Buch (Taschenbuch, Englisch)
6,59
6,59
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Flavia im Internat
von einer Kundin/einem Kunden aus Leer (Ostfriesland) am 09.10.2015

Im 7. Band um die junge Detektivin Flavia de Luce folgen wir ihr von Buckshaw nach Kanada, wo sie Miss Bodycote’s Internat besuchen wird. Sie hat nicht so viel Lust dahin zu gehen, denn sie wird Buckshaw, ihre Familie und Freunde bestimmt schrecklich vermissen. Aber kaum ist sie im Internat angekommen, fällt ihr sozusagen scho... Im 7. Band um die junge Detektivin Flavia de Luce folgen wir ihr von Buckshaw nach Kanada, wo sie Miss Bodycote’s Internat besuchen wird. Sie hat nicht so viel Lust dahin zu gehen, denn sie wird Buckshaw, ihre Familie und Freunde bestimmt schrecklich vermissen. Aber kaum ist sie im Internat angekommen, fällt ihr sozusagen schon eine Leiche auf den Kopf. Sofort wird das ganze viel interessanter, denn natürlich muss Flavia herausfinden, was passiert ist. Ich bin ein großer Fan von Alan Bradleys Reihe um Flavia de Luce. Diesmal ein anderes Setting, aber auch dieses Buch hat mir wiederum sehr gut gefallen. Für alle Fans ein Muss!