What Time the Sexton’s Spade doth Rust: A Flavia de Luce Novel by Alan Bradley

A Turning Point in the Beloved Series

There’s been ongoing debate in the mystery community about what constitutes a “cozy” mystery. Recently, I encountered someone describing the Flavia de Luce novels as belonging to this subgenre, which gave me pause. When I think of cozies – those mysteries I regularly shelve at the library – I picture titles with punny references to baking disasters or amateur sleuths who run cat cafés. The Flavia series has always felt different, occupying a unique space between the light-hearted charm of cozies and something darker.

This distinction has never been more apparent than in What Time the Sexton’s Spade doth Rust. To put it in perspective, I’m currently reading Ramona Emerson’s “Exposure,” which opens with the devastating murder of six children, including an infant – a book I frequently need to step away from due to its brutal realism. While Flavia’s latest adventure doesn’t venture into such explicitly dark territory, it marks a significant departure from the series’ earlier tone.

For the first time in my journey with these books, I found myself setting this one aside halfway through, not returning to it for weeks. The issue wasn’t graphic content or disturbing themes, but rather a growing dissonance that I could no longer ignore. The willing suspension of disbelief that allowed me to accept Flavia as a 13-year-old sleuth who commands adult respect finally crumbled. No matter how brilliant or precocious she may be, the cognitive dissonance of her age versus her role in these investigations has become increasingly difficult to reconcile.

Bradley’s signature elements are all present: the clever dialogue, the fascinating chemistry details, and the richly drawn world of Buckshaw and its surroundings. The previous installment had left me hopeful, with promising developments including:

• The establishment of Dogger and Flavia’s detective agency
• The blossoming relationship between Flavia and Undine
• Potential for healing in Flavia’s complicated relationship with Inspector Hewitt

However, this latest entry seems to have taken a darker turn that overshadows these positive developments. While the series has never shied away from serious themes, something about this installment feels different – as if we’ve reached a crossroads where the charming eccentricity of earlier books has given way to something more sobering.

The book’s title, drawn from old folklore about death omens, proves sadly appropriate. It marks what may be my departure point from a series I’ve long cherished. The previous book had left me with a sense of optimism about Flavia’s future adventures. This one, however, opens what feels like a portal to a darker version of her world – one I’m not certain I wish to explore further.

Long-time readers of the series will find familiar pleasures in Bradley’s prose and his young protagonist’s sharp wit. However, they may also notice, as I did, that something fundamental has shifted. It’s not that the book is poorly written or that the mystery itself fails to engage. Rather, it’s that the delicate balance between youthful adventure and adult themes that characterized the earlier books has tipped, perhaps irretrievably, toward the latter.

Final Thoughts

While “What Time the Sexton’s Spade doth Rust” maintains the technical proficiency we’ve come to expect from Bradley, it may represent a turning point for many readers. The question becomes not whether the book is well-crafted, but whether this new direction serves the series’ strengths. For this reader, at least, it may be time to bid farewell to Flavia while I can still cherish the memories of her earlier adventures.

Rating: ★★★☆☆

Not because of any failure in craft, but because sometimes growing up means growing apart.

This blog post was written with assistance from Claude, an AI created by Anthropic. While the ideas and content are my own, I used Claude to help with writing, editing, and refining the text.