From The Mixed-Up Files Of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler (2003) - Plot & Excerpts
For his autumnal yet incandescent family tragicomedy, The Royal Tenenbaums, Wes Anderson drew inspiration from a handful of literary works remarkably possessed of whimsy and insightful wit. Chief among these is the late J. D. Salinger’s short but utterly perceptive book, Franny and Zooey, whose title characters are members of the Glass family, the basis for the dysfunctional Tenenbaums in Anderson’s film. The eccentric director, drawing further attention to his enchantment with Salinger’s fictional family, even went so far as to pattern a quirk of one of the central characters in The Royal Tenenbaums after a scene in Franny and Zooey, where Zooey, the male protagonist, spends an inordinate stretch of time in a bathtub. Anderson did the same, that is, cutting out a scene from a beloved book and stitching it into his film, to the 1968 Newbery Medal-winning novel by E. L. Konigsburg, From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. In a brief episode of childhood rebellion in Anderson’s film, two of the Tenenbaum siblings run away from home and live in, of all places, a museum. They must have read Konigsburg’s novel--Anderson has, certainly--for that’s exactly what Claudia and Jamie Kincaid, the leads in From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, did. From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler (hereafter referred to simply as Mixed-Up Files, despite the book’s delightful roller-coaster of a title) is narrated with a quaint sense of humor by a wealthy old lady named Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. Mrs. Frankweiler’s purportedly true story sets off when Claudia, fed up with being unfairly treated in the Kincaid household in Greenwich, Connecticut, and tired of "the monotony of everything" decides to teach her parents “a lesson in Claudia appreciation” by running away from home. Considering her very low tolerance for discomfort, she chooses the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City as her hideaway, and considering her very low supply of money, she persuades her penny-pinching brother, Jamie, to join her. With the snazzy art museum as their home-cum-playground, sister and brother make the most out of their newfound freedom, and Konigsburg, via Mrs. Frankweiler, seems to make the experience of being away from the safety and convenience afforded by home a tad too easy and pleasant for her protagonists, who attempt to live on less than twenty-five dollars and a few sets of clothes for God knows how long in the Met, an otherwise comfortable dwelling place. They hide in the bathrooms at opening and closing time to evade the museum personnel, sleep in ancient canopy beds while pretending to be 16th-century monarchs, bathe in the restaurant fountain while picking up wish coins to add to their dwindling funds, and mingle with visitors for their daily dose of art history. But these aren’t small plot conveniences so much as products of the complementary nature of Claudia and Jamie’s individual strengths: most notably, she’s excellent at planning while he’s good at (not) spending. And so, even as they bicker mildly about mostly trivial matters, they become thick as thieves. “The greatest adventure of our mutual lives,” as Claudia enticingly described their stint as truants and runaways when she was just trying to enlist Jamie, becomes just that when they stumble upon a mystery surrounding the museum’s latest acquisition, a statue of an angel believed to be the handiwork of none other than Michelangelo Buonarroti. Claudia and Jamie, as inquisitive and ingenious as any kids of their age (he’s nine years old; she’s “one month away from being 12”) would dare to be, and seeing that they’re right where the object mired in mystery is, sets out to uncover the angel’s secret, if any. This is no The Da Vinci Code or Angels and Demons for kids, thank you very much. In this little book where most of the events, big and small, also happen in a famous museum and an Italian Renaissance man also gets plunged into the story, there’s no room for bloated conspiracy theories and cheap thrills. In the first place, they’re not what you’d expect from a sophisticated narrator like Mrs. Frankweiler, who at old age has amassed great wisdom and a great deal of items for her art collection besides, as a newspaper article Claude and Jamie chance upon states and as the proud octogenarian herself boasts around the time she finally enters the story as a supporting but not insignificant character (while retaining her role as narrator, of course). What we’re treated to instead is a charming and smartly plotted novel that at first blush seems focused on the excitement of being a defiant and carefree youth and later appears entangled in the revelations, impressive in spite of their scant amount, hatched by the pair in their investigation about the true maker of an antique sculpture. But as they go about their kid detective work they, Claudia especially, unknowingly encounter a path towards self-discovery, and Mixed-Up Files ultimately becomes fixed on an eye-opening search for what makes a person different and beautiful inside--a living work of art, in other words. Mixed-Up Files is structurally a written account addressed to Mrs. Frankweiler’s lawyer. In her letter prefacing her main narrative, she discloses that “I’ve written it to explain certain changes to my last will and testament. You’ll understand those changes (and a lot of other things) much better after reading it.” There's no doubt that her lawyer did understand. “I don’t come in until much later," she continues, "but never mind. You’ll find enough to interest you until you do.” Wes Anderson sure did, and anyone who has ever been a child and who goes on to read (and re-read) Mixed-Up Files does, sure enough. --Originally posted here.
So, what exactly would be the category for lingering behind and taking up residence in the Metropolitan Museum of Art? I'll go with criminal trespass till I learn otherwise. So - when I commit criminal trespass, should I blame Thomas Hoving, or E.L. Konigsburg? I recently finished False Impressions, and just finished From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, so I'm already making plans. Enough time has gone by since the publication of the book - 1967 - that the guards must have gotten out of the habit of checking the bathroom stalls quite so thoroughly, so there's no reason I can't use the same ruse to stay in the museum overnight. Let's see ... They say in the preface to the book that the fountain that used to be in the restaurant (which I believe has been moved) is now in Georgia, but there is one called the Pan Fountain - oh, and the reflecting pool around the Temple of Dendur, of course, of which seventy-five cents of the change in the water is mine anyway. Oh, and in place of the fictional Angel of the book which may or may not have been "sculptured" by Michelangelo, there is Young Archer, which may or may not have been sculpted by Michelangelo. It's karma.I will run away - taking the train; I'll pop for a taxi, and use the method Claudia and Jamie did to infiltrate and entrench myself into the museum. I don't know about sleeping in one of the antique beds, though; that seems a little squicky. And fragile. (And why would it be made up with sheets and all?) There must be an employee lunch room or something, or an administrative office with a couch or something. I'll figure it out.So let's see. I don't have an instrument case like the kids who run away hid their socks and underwear in - but I have a pretty big pocketbook. And I don't have to check it. Hm. The laptop is probably not viable; I could charge it, but unless they have WiFi - well, I could use the time to finish the book.The Mixed-Up Files is wonderful. I may not (may not) go through with this plan, but it's a really fun fantasy. It hit me hard because of all my reading about the Met lately - Hoving talks a lot about living with the art, about handling and having personal experience of it, and - - it's just mean. It's something I crave, and something I'll never have (unless I implement Plan E.L. Konigsberg) - the idea of having the whole of the Met to myself for the better part of every day is ... heady. Especially the part shown on the cover of this edition - the Arms and Armor hall. I love that place. Except for those pesky alarms and sensors and such. The sixties were such a sweetly innocent time. And the kids in this book are sweetly innocent, and so very smart; it's a pleasure to be in on the planning and execution of such a great plan. The pen and ink illustrations in the edition I read were horrible - muddy, almost more inkblots than illustrations; they have to have been copies of copies of larger images. But the writing was great fun, despite the point of view of an adult added to a couple of years of watching Criminal Minds and Without a Trace making the kids' parents' terror a little more important to me than to the kids, but that's okay. The detailed money calculations were ... startling. I don't know why I never read the book when I was a kid, but I'm glad I did now.And I really, really want to go hang out with the Young Archer.
What do You think about From The Mixed-Up Files Of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler (2003)?
From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler By E.L. Konigsburg This is a delightful story for children of all ages. I'm wondering why I never discovered this book when I was a kid? Claudia is planning to run away. She wants a different life, than that of the oldest child, with so many responsibilities. Her brother Jamie doesn't know it yet, but she has chosen him to be her companion. One reason she has chosen Jamie, is because he is good with money. Claudia usually spends her money on hot fudge sundaes, but Jamie has saved over twenty dollars. Claudia plans for them to take a train to New York City, and stay in the Metropolitan Museum of Fine Arts. Hiding out, being hungry most of the time, and walking in order to save money, the two children experience the adventure of a lifetime. They also get involved in the mystery of an angel statue, which was sold to the museum by Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. Could the angel statue be a real Michelangelo? Only Mrs. Frankweiler knows for sure. Will Claudia and Jamie get caught in the museum? Will they run out of money, and need to go home, before solving the mystery? Does their family really miss them? Can they find Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler? Will she be willing to help them, if they do find her? I recently spent the night in The Museum of Ancient History, in Draper Utah, with two of my granddaughters. They call it Dino-snores. We slept right under the tail of a huge dinosaur. There is definitely something intriguing about sleeping in a museum, especially when the lights go out. Jill Ammon Vanderwood Author: Through the Rug Through The Rug 2: Follow That Dog (Through the Rug)Stowaway: The San Francisco Adventures of Sara, the Pineapple Cat
—Jill
I just got done reading this book to my son. I wasn't really sure if he would like it because he likes books with a lot of action in them, but he said that he would give it 4 stars! This is what I liked about it: I liked the mystery surrounding the statue, the dialogue between Claudia and Jamie (Jamie totally cracked me up!), the whole idea of running away to the Metropolitan Museum of Art is ingenious!There were really only two things that I didn't like about it, 1) I think that I would have liked the book better had it not been written in Mrs. Frankweiler's point of view, those little side comments to her lawyer, Saxonberg were a bit annoying, and 2) the children didn't seem to show any remorse for running away and causing their parents so much pain and heartache.All in all a good read and I'm sure that I'll be reading it again before my children are grown and gone.
—Annette
I never read this book as a child, I had no idea it even existed. At the urging of several GR friends I picked it up last night and spent a very enjoyable few hours. What could be more enchanting than the story of two kids who run away from home and hide out in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City? A brother and sister with bulging pockets of pennies and nickels, sleep in a 400 year old curtained bed by night, bathe in the museum’s fountain and eat in the cafeteria by day. When the museum acquires an enchanting sculpture of an angel with uncertain origin, the kids decide to get to the bottom of the mystery. Delightful!
—Lee
