The Bad Beginning (A Series of Unfortunate Events, #1)

by Lemony Snicket

Klaus pictured all the books in the library, going up in flames. Now he’d never read all of them.

“The Baudelaire fortune,” he said sternly, “will not be used for such matters. In fact, it will not be used at all, until Violet is of age.”

They wondered how many other eyes were in Count Olaf’s house, and whether, for the rest of their lives, they would always feel as though Count Olaf were watching them even when he wasn’t nearby.

Your initial opinion on just about anything may change over time.

You and I, of course, would never do this to any of our grieving acquaintances, but it is a sad truth in life that when someone has lost a loved one, friends sometimes avoid the person, just when the presence of friends is most needed.

Perhaps, with the kind Justice Strauss and her library right next door, the children could prepare pleasant lives for themselves as easily as making puttanesca sauce for Count Olaf.

“That won’t be necessary,” Justice Strauss said. “You are always welcome in my home.”

So unless you have been very, very lucky, you know that a good, long session of weeping can often make you feel better, even if your circumstances have not changed one bit.

“But she meant for a visit, or to use her library,” Violet pointed out. “She didn’t mean to live.”

“We have been there long enough to know Count Olaf is a bad man,” Klaus said.

They did not literally escape, because they were still in his house and vulnerable to Olaf’s evil in loco parentis ways. But by immersing themselves in their favorite reading topics, they felt far away from their predicament, as if they had escaped.

The children shuddered a little at that, remembering their own kind father and gazing sadly at the poor substitute now sitting across the table from them.

There are many, many types of books in the world, which makes good sense, because there are many, many types of people, and everybody wants to read something different.

His hopes rose along with the sun.

This play you’re putting on shouldn’t be called The Marvelous Marriage. It should be called The Menacing Marriage.

The really frightening thing about Olaf, she realized, was that he was very smart after all. He wasn’t merely an unsavory drunken brute, but an unsavory, clever drunken brute.

“You are the eldest Baudelaire child,” they had said, kindly but firmly. “And as the eldest, it will always be your responsibility to look after your younger siblings. Promise us that you will always watch out for them and make sure they don’t get into trouble.”

Way to induce Elder daughter syndrome there.

In my room, for instance, I have gathered a collection of objects that are important to me, including a dusty accordion on which I can play a few sad songs, a large bundle of notes on the activities of the Baudelaire orphans, and a blurry photograph, taken a very long time ago, of a woman whose name is Beatrice.

All in all, the Baudelaire orphans had encountered catastrophe after catastrophe, and Violet found their situation lamentably deplorable, a phrase which here means “it was not at all enjoyable.”

“Oh my word! I get to wear makeup.” Justice Strauss had on a dreamy expression, as if she were about to be crowned queen, instead of just having some powders and creams smeared on her face. “Children, I must go. See you onstage, my dears!”

“I’m afraid this dreadful nonsense is the law,” Justice Strauss said. Her eyes were filling up with tears. “I can’t believe how easily I was tricked,” she said. “I would never do anything to harm you children. Never.”