The Bad Beginning is the Perfect Beginning

I was a little late to the game in reading the A Series of Unfortunate Events series. I had been meaning to read them since my freshman year in college but somehow my repeated readings of Harry Potter kept getting in the way. But last week I came across a thundery morning with nothing to do. Just a few hours of rainy free time during which I was free to pursue whatever, well, pursuits I fancied. And so I finally pulled The Bad Beginning off the shelf.

The Bad Beginning is made up of what can only be termed the zenith of proper children’s literary writing. The truly, horrendously unfortunate circumstances that the Baudelaire children are thrown into manage to be humorous and sad at the same time. The writing style was simple, but not in a plain sort of way. Instead it was simply frank, straightforward, and matter of fact. It harkened back to Lewis’s writing in the Narnia series—very British, very to the point, and very, very entertaining.

The children themselves are wondrously crafted characters. Intelligent, polite, and quirky, they embody everything adults could want from children (both in reality and in fiction) and provide eccentric friends for young readers to visit and sympathize with. And any reader of any age will not be able to help sympathizing with them. Despite the hyperbolic comedy of the events of the book, i.e. the children being sent to live with an odious relative who has nothing but misery planned for them, or Violet being the victim of a nefarious plot to force her to marry her guardian.

The genius of this plotting is that children reading the book will be caught up in the adventure and scandal of the truly monstrous events, but an adult will be able to appreciate the severity of the circumstances and recognize that this sort of thing did happen. The plot is gothic in nature, alluding to the novels of two hundred years ago, when unsuspecting young women were plucked from the safety of their families and forced into marriage to all manner of brutes, only to be rescued at the last minute (or not, depending on the author). But in the case of Lemony Snicket, Violet is just barely rescued, and the saddish ending provided the perfect segue into the next installment of the series. The villain escaped, the children were taken to temporary safety, and we, the readers, are left wondering what will become of them. It is an excellent impetus for continuing to read the series.

The book is also perfectly formed for young readers. Not only has Lemony Snicket provided quality role models in the Baudelaire orphans, but he incorporates vocabulary lessons and context clues that will help young children expand their knowledge. He presents large, complicated words and explains what they mean without breaking the rhythm of the story—because his definitions fit in the context of what is happening at the time. For example, near the end of the novel, when things are starting to get really dire, the word “relinquished” comes into play. The novel explains this word by saying, “…a word which here means ‘gave to Count Olaf even though he didn’t want to’”. These seamless incorporations of important vocabulary words make the book educational as well as entertaining.

There is no doubt that if I were a parent I would almost demand that my children read this book. It is perfect for kids around the age of ten, and would be a joy to read together. Every expectation I had going into this book was fulfilled—nay, surpassed, and I look forward to continuing exploring the series and finding out what new horrors life has in store for the enchanting characters and their Series of Unfortunate Events.