I’m listening to this as read by Tim Curry, which is all things awesome. However: if you’re doing the same, you might want to grab a physical copy long enough to look at the last several pages. Snicket includes six “To My Kind Editor” letters, and Curry doesn’t read them. Which is not his fault, because nothing is his fault, because Tim Curry is a rock god and if you don’t understand that you need to leave my house right now.The reason Curry doesn’t read these letters is because he can’t. No, he didn’t contract illiteracy after finishing the main text. He can’t read these letters aloud because he can’t do them justice in an audible-book format. The letters aren’t complete. They’re typed on “Hotel Denouement” letterhead, and they’re torn from top to bottom, with only the left halves surviving. And “half” is too generous a term for the last one. But they’re fun to puzzle over. So be sure to check these fragments out.Let me again express my surprise at how the “Unfortunate Events” books not only defy the general fate of sequels (hint: suckage), but actually improve as the series goes on. The characters deepen. The children grapple with moral as well as physical perils. And the literary references become more subtle and complex.I won’t say much about the plot because first, it’s been expertly summarized in other reviews; second, if you’re familiar with the series you don’t need me to, and if you’re not, you should start with the first book, not the 11th; and third, I still have a bad headache from this lousy month-long cold, and summarizing sounds suspiciously like work. Work that involves my brain, which is in my head, which hurts. Instead, I’d like to mention something I was grateful to find in this book.My niece died when I was a teenager. She was only a few months old. I haven't come to terms with that. I’ve gotten on with my life, of course, but it’s always a shock that someone so small could cast so big a shadow.One thing I’ve often thought about is that a too-early death robs its victim of two lives. The first is the nebulous, hypothetical, artificially bright life they would have had: the future they’ve been deprived of, the work and love they might have engaged in. The second, though, is the life they already had. A chunk of their identity drops away. That piece of their self is every bit as true and important as every other aspect of their personality, but it’s buried first and deepest. I’m talking about their flaws. We are so reluctant to allow our dead to be their own imperfect selves. It’s too painful – and to be fair, it feels too cruel – to acknowledge that the lost loved one was, say, sometimes irritable and occasionally unkind, or had a habit of grabbing the first and the best for themselves.My niece didn’t have time to be anything but an infant, of course. But I’ve found myself trying to acknowledge her humanity by wondering if she would have been a bratty, fashion-conscious teenager who rolled her eyes at my lame apparel. Or maybe she would have been polite enough not to say that the things I enjoy – writing, reading, baking all day – might have been boring to her. We might have gone through some thorny patches, as her mother and I certainly have. She should have had the chance to be an ordinary human being, is what I’m saying. She should have had a life. And in the course of that life, it’s pretty much guaranteed that she would have been bitchy sometimes. Or rude. Mean to people now and then. Maybe stupid enough to text and drive. Also beautiful (her parents are gorgeous) and intelligent (her mother’s brilliant) and probably artistic (I’m the only one she’s related to who fails in that department). She doesn’t get to be a whole person any more. She lost out on the years she should have had; and because she died far too young, she’s been elected to sainthood. Many people have. And that isn’t fair to anyone.This kind of thought is why this passage from The Grim Grotto means a lot to me:Everyone yells, of course, from time to time, but the Baudelaire children did not like to think about their parents yelling, particularly now that they were no longer around to apologize or explain themselves. It is often difficult to admit that someone you love is not perfect, or to consider aspects of a person that are less than admirable. To the Baudelaires it felt almost as if they had drawn a line after their parents died – a secret line in their memories, separating all the wonderful things about the Baudelaire parents from the things that perhaps were not quite so wonderful. Since the fire, whenever they thought of their parents, the Baudelaires never stepped over this secret line, preferring to ponder the best moments the family had together rather than any of the times when they had fought, or been unfair or selfish. But now, suddenly, in the gloom of the Gorgonian Grotto, the siblings had stumbled across that line and found themselves thinking of that angry afternoon in the library, and in moments other angry afternoons and evenings had occurred to them until their brains were lousy with memories of all stripes, a phrase which here means "both good and bad." It gave the siblings a queasy feeling to cross this line in their memories, and admit that their parents were sometimes difficult, and it made them feel all the queasier to realize they could not step back, and pretend they had never remembered these less-than-perfect moments, any more than they could step back in time, and once again find themselves safe in the Baudelaire home, before fire and count Olaf had appeared in their lives.The Grim Grotto, quite aside from being an action-packed story, also gives a lot of troubling thought to the idea that those we love are not always perfect, anymore than we ourselves are. And it ends on a cliffhanger, so have the next book at hand before you finish this one. You’ll want to jump right to it.
Part of the Great ASOUE Re-Read of 2015.I agree with Theresa's review that there are some things that are grating in this book, namely the verbal ticks. Widdershins' dialogue becomes tiresome after a point, as does Fiona's mimicry of it; Carmelita's insistence that she's a "tap-dancing ballerina fairy princess veterinarian" is deliberately wearisome, albeit comically so. ("'M' is for gorgeous!" never gets old, though.) In some ways, GG is doomed merely because it follows one of the most perfect books in the series, and also... well, it's not filler, but it's kind of filler.Look, the end of SS tells us that they need to get to the Last Safe Place for Thursday. They actually arrive at the Last Safe Place at the beginning of PP. Which means this book is more about the journey and character development rather than actual plot things. Boarding the Queequeg with volunteers who know more gives us some much-needed information, mostly because we're reaching the point of the series where we want more answers rather than questions. There are still lots of things left unanswered (come on, this is Lemony Snicket, who are we kidding? To quote Buster Bluth, he "gets off on withholding") but what little information we get is kind of nice. Here, at least, we begin to know that the sugar bowl is not what's important, but what's in the sugar bowl.Perhaps the most interesting storyline in the book belongs to Fiona. (view spoiler)[She's the first person our heroes' age who chooses to defect to villainy for non-villainous reasons. So Fiona discovers once they are aboard the Carmelita that the hook-handed mad is her long-lost brother Fernald. She decides she cannot abandon her brother now that they are reunited, and thus defects to Olaf's side with perhaps one of the most heartbreaking lines in the series: "When you think of me, think of a food you love very much." Ouch. Go ahead, take my tears, Lemony. A different kind of heartbreaking than Violet's being ripped away from Quigley. Fiona's a great example of the whole people-aren't-just-noble-or-villainous thing as she's doing what is right for her, even as we've grown to like her through the course of the book. Violet has her reservations from the get-go while Klaus is smitten and they dorkily flirt over mycology, dear god, it's adorable, but still. I would not fight a bear for Fiona, and perhaps her storyline would be more heartbreaking had we got to know her over the course of multiple books--in some ways, it feels a bit rushed, now that I think about it. Like, if they had made it to the Last Safe Place together and then she defected... whoooh, that would've been something. (hide spoiler)]
What do You think about The Grim Grotto (2004)?
In the eleventh book in “A Series of Unfortunate Events”, we find the three young Baudelaire siblings in a grim bit of trouble, escaping from the nefarious Count Olaf by riding a toboggan down the Stricken Stream, hoping to find a sugar bowl before he does.The Baudelaire siblings don’t know what is so important about the sugar bowl, only that it may mean the end of their troubles.Unsure how to get out of the Stricken Stream without drowning, the three siblings contemplate their fate. Violet, the oldest of the Baudelaires, is the best inventor the world has ever seen; even she can’t figure a way out of the mess they are in. Klaus, the second oldest, is as befuddled as his sister.He hasn’t read anything in any book that would help them escape a river. Sunny, the youngest Baudelaire, can just barely hang on for dear life.Their luck looks like it may be turning, however, when a submarine floats up from underneath them. Climbing aboard the sea vessel, they are introduced to Captain Widdershins and his stepdaughter Fiona.They are part of the mysterious organization of V. F. D., and have been on the look out for the trio of Baudelaires. The papers have been blaming the trio for all of Count Olaf’s devious deeds and Widdershins and Fiona were able to guess the Baudelaires’ location.They are heading towards the last safe place, which they must reach before the V. F. D. meeting commences on Thursday. Count Olaf plans to commit another act of arson. They must also find the sugar bowl before Count Olaf, otherwise, the trouble has only begun….From start to finish, I loved this book. I have been a huge fan of “A Series of Unfortunate Events” from its beginning and this is the best book yet. I’m not just saying that either. This book has everything: a little romance, a lot of adventure, evil villains who have perfected their evil laugh (Tee hee torture!), Tap Dancing Fairy Princess Ballerina Veterinarians, mechanical octopus and enough Ayes to shake a stick at.I couldn’t read this book fast enough. I sucked it back in just about a day and I’m going to read it again; it’s that good. There are so many surprises in this book; there are moments where you will laugh out loud, feel sorry for the Baudelaires as we learn more about their past and learn a fair bit about the three stages of the water cycle. This book has something for everyone.I can’t stress how much I loved this book. Part Harry Potter, part Charles Dickens, these books rock!
—Jamieson
I like the ones narrated by Lemony as well but they're quite different so it's always a bit weird when you listen to one book after another and suddenly there's this completely different voice narrating the story.
—Miss Bookiverse
The Grim Grotto bodes well for the coming climax of the thirteen books in the Series of Unfortunate Events. It introduces some wonderful new characters, especially Captain Widdershins. It reintroduces some minor characters from previous books in the series. But best of all, it introduces new mysteries and the possible solution of old ones, so that the final two coming books will not just be a matter of a fight of good over evil and tying up loose ends. As with many of the other books in the series, The Grim Grotto contains significant moral discussion. One of the central questions it raises is whether it is possible to draw a clear distinction between good and bad. The Baudelaires have already grappled with this question of their own goodness, because they have lied, stolen and committed arson in their adventures. Now they have to confront the question of whether it is wrong to join a nefarious group if it is for the sake of family. Even more touching is when they confront their own memories of their parents and admit to themselves that sometimes their parents were not perfect, and sometimes were angry with the children. Lemony Snicket writes with his familiar love of language filling the story with references to great literature and poetry. The book is both often laugh-out-loud funny, especially with Sunny's short exclamations. The writing is clever and extremely entertaining. It also addresses some of the most profound questions of life, about trust and hope and moral fortitude. It's an irresistible combination. Highly recommended.
—Claire
