Last year’s Truly Devious wasn’t just fantastic in its own right, but also introduced me to Maureen Johnson. I read two more of her books in short order, then was left to ache for the Truly Devious sequel. Well, Stevie, our lovable, smart, anxiety-suffering protagonist is back and better than ever for the 384 pages we’re allowed with her. The book is great, as can only be expected, but heed my warning: The Vanishing Stair is only a temporary cure for Truly Devious-itis, since Johnson leaves readers with another massive cliffhanger at the end.
First things first, massive thanks to Johnson for the way she seeded the introductory chapters of the book with character and plot details from its predecessor. Before I started reading, I searched online for a full book synopsis for Truly Devious to get up to speed, but came up with nothing, so I ended up just throwing my hands up and diving right in. If you are in the same boat, fear not; you won’t feel lost if you read the first book last year.
I do want to touch on one thing which I… honestly hesitate to bring up, but what the hell, here goes nothing. I read books to get away from the world. The best kinds of books are transportive—there’s a real kind of magic to words that guide you to conjure characters, places, and scenes in your mind. In my opinion, this is what distinguishes books from other forms of media like TV and movies, which feed you pictures and audio filtered through a director’s lens. With books, the author lays all the groundwork, but the reader is ultimately the director.
That’s why I hate when things drag me out of an engrossing story—things like clunky verbiage, out-of-character decision-making, and preposterous plot twists. The Vanishing Stair suffers from none of the aforementioned literary crimes, but there are definitely a few instances when Johnson includes some politically-tinged language that instantly rocketed me out of the book. (And please understand that I am NOT bringing this up in regards to the Edward King politician character, since he’s an integral part of the story.) For better or worse, we live in a time where it feels like politics consume all, and it is exhausting and annoying to be reading and reach a sentence that randomly throws in something about “the patriarchy.” One of many reasons I love reading is that books get me away from all that.
She was second in command to Charles, which seemed unlikely, until you remembered that Charles was a guy. Even at Ellingham, the patriarchy reared its shaggy head.
This book is binge-worthy, but unnecessary political language like the above quote keep it from being a five-star read—NOT because of the author’s political beliefs, but simply because the book shouldn’t need to get political at all, as this is not Twitter, but rather a YA whodunnit. I don’t care whether the author is on the left or right side of the aisle—unless your book has a specific political thread (political thriller, MC is a political activist, etc.) understand that you are potentially alienating a potential audience, dating your book, and, worst of all, weakening the story. What need is there for politically-tinged details in a cozy mystery? None, as far as I’m concerned.
But the above complaint aside, this was a very enjoyable read, and I highly recommend it for anyone who enjoys boarding school stories, the perfect amount of witty dialogue, and a twisting, well-constructed mystery.