There is something about E.L. Konigsburg’s writing that simultaneously entertains, enlightens, and even mildly annoys me. I enjoy her books, sometimes immensely– as in this case– but am usually left with a sense of not-quite-getting it, of not entirely being in on the joke.

I felt that way after finishing this book, but I’m not sure it mattered.

The basic story is about Amadeo — a precocious boy who is looking for friends and the chance to discover something that has been lost. He falls in with William, whose mother (Dora Ellen Wilcox) supervises estate sales, and ends up helping with the categorization when his next-door-neighbor, Mrs. Zender — former opera singer and diva supreme– decides that she needs to put the contents of her house up for sale. There ensues a mystery, a discovery, and a bonding.

Sounds pretentious, and in some ways it is. Yet, I liked the story a lot. Possibly because Konigsburg’s writing is so wonderful. A passage early on in the book:

Mrs. Zender swept her arm in the direction of the back of the house. The hallway was wide enough to allow them to walk side by side, but Mrs. Zender walked ahead. She was tall, and she was zaftig. Definitely zaftig. She was also majestic. She moved forward like a queen vessel plowing still waters. Her kimono corrugated as she moved. There as a thin stripe of purple that winked as it appeared and then disappeared in a fold of fabric at her waist.

And later — though taken out of context, it sounds like it could be from a self-help book:

Friendship is a combination of art and craft. The craft part is knowing how to give and how to take. The art part is knowing when, and the whole process only works when no one is keeping track.

The other reason I enjoyed this book so much, in spite of is precociousness, is because I really loved the precocious and mildly irritating characters. Especially Mrs. Zender. She was a hoot. A dignified, respectable hoot, but one nonetheless. From near the end:

“I haven’t read a book in years. Every now and then I read a review in a magazine at the beauty parlor, and sometimes I think I would enjoy reading an entire book, but I allow the thought to pass.”

How wonderful is that?

At the mysterious edge of the heroic world… pretty wonderful.