Things in Jars

“He has a whole library of books about the things that swim in the water and the things that crawl out of it, ma'am.” Agnes wrinkles her nose. “There are things in jars.”

Ahhhh, this is the book I was waiting for from Jess Kidd! When I read her two previous novels (Himself and Mr. Flood's Last Resort), I peevishly complained that while I loved her comic voice, Gothic sensibility, and gorgeous sentences, I didn't think that Kidd pulled off satisfactory story arcs. But with Things in Jars, I delighted in the writing, big and small, rereading single lines and forcing myself to put the book down in between chapters so it wouldn't be done too soon – but then couldn't stop myself from picking it right back up because I needed to know what was going to happen next. I tend to be strict about awarding five stars, and while this isn't groundbreaking literature that shook my worldview, this novel is an absolute gem and perfect for what it is. I was thrilled, touched, and amused throughout: I couldn't ask for more (maybe I could ask for half stars so I could put this at 4.5, but I'm rounding up for the sheer entertainment value).

“I would strongly advise you to keep the nature of this discovery to yourselves, Mr. Cridge,” says Bridie. “London has a taste for aberrations.”

The widow Bridie Devine – with fiery red curls tucked messily beneath London's ugliest black bonnet – is a “domestic investigator”, often called upon by the constabulary to use her trained observational skills to (unofficially) determine the causes of death for those poor souls the city is forever churning out. When Bridie is hired by Sir Edmund Athelstan Berwick to discreetly recover his kidnapped daughter, Bridie will encounter some of Victorian London's most colourful characters – murderers and brigands, scientists and showmen – and will be forced to confront her own past as well. The plot is Sherlock Holmes by way of Dickens, overlaid with Gothic strangeness, and to say any more about it would be an unkindness to future readers.

A cloth covers the jar that Bridie took from the bookcase in the nursery, and Ruby is thankful for this. For the contents have the ability to rearrange even a dead man’s sense of reality. As with all terrible, wondrous sights, there is a jolt of shock, then a hypnotic fascination, then the uneasy queasiness, then the whole thing starts again; the desire to look and the desire never to have looked in the first place.

The narrative rotates between two mysteries: Bridie's present investigation and the unravelling of a significant time in her childhood. In the present, Bridie is aided in her efforts by Cora (a seven foot tall housemaid with a baritone voice and a five-o'clock-shadow), Ruby (a recently risen ghost with animated tattoos who says he knew Bridie in the past; Bridie does not believe in ghosts but enjoys Ruby's company), Prudhoe (an expert on death-by-poison, producer of fine opiates, friend of ravens), and Inspector Valentine Rose (a longtime friend who just may be sweet on the widowed Mrs Devine). Orphaned early and raised as a ward to a series of scientific gentlemen, the story revealed of Bridie's upbringing will eventually explain her particular concern for imperiled children, the genesis of her medical knowledge, and the true nature of the danger she now finds herself in. Each part of the story is paced and plotted perfectly, and Kidd's writing delighted me on every page:

• The slums are as they have always been: as warm and lively as a blanket full of lice.

• A muculent man, of the type who tends to snort, his nose having the bulbous quality of a seasoned imbiber of strong spirits, various.

• All around you: sky. The raven turns in her element and the world turns, too, confirming what she already knows: she is the center of everything.

I found everything about the strange situation (which I haven't even described here) to be fascinating, the climax to be thrilling, and the ending very nearly made me cry. My only quibble: An opening was left to make this an ongoing series, and as much as I enjoyed this romp with Bridie Devine and her oddball gang, maybe this ought to be left as a perfect little standalone gem. Or maybe I'm wrong about that. What I do know: I'll read whatever Jess Kidd comes out with next.