The House with a Clock in Its Walls (Lewis Barnavelt, #1)

by John Bellairs

Lewis had heard a few things about Uncle Jonathan, like that he smoked and drank and played poker. These were not such bad things in a Catholic family, but Lewis had two maiden aunts who were Baptists, and they had warned him about Jonathan.

Not expecting this amount of religion cthis early in the book

His Big Mac khaki trousers were bulged out in front by his pot belly,

Oh my god do not start your sentences this way

Lewis wondered if he had red hair all over his body.

Why isz this book fetishizing jonathan

It was a deep-throated iron bell, and its sound made Lewis feel hopeless and helpless. Bells like that always did.

Ok

Jonathan did not complain any more about the suitcase, but he did stop frequently to set it down and flex his reddened hand.

Oh ive just realized its books because our protag is deep

His uncle was certainly a strange person, but he was strange in a likable way.

Welp narration said it so it must be true

a mailbox that said: FOR DEPOSIT OF MAIL ONLY.

What prompted that sign. Wo is making deposits in your mailbox

Lewis began to be sorry that he had packed all those books and lead soldiers.

Bingo

“Well, there it is, Lewis. Barnavelt’s Folly. What do you think of it?” Lewis looked. He saw a three-story stone mansion with a tall turret on the front.

How steep is the hill that this mansion appears so suddenly

Lewis stopped and stared. He felt embarrassed. It was as if he had walked in on someone who was doing something he shouldn’t be doing.

Nope nope do not put that in my head

“Hi there.

Exactly tge phrasing i expect an odish woman to use in 1948

“You remember Charlie writing about him. The bus was on time for a change. They must have gotten the driver drunk. Hey! Have you been stealing any of my coins?”

Ok so hes clearly trying to distract from what l just saw. Why doesnt l pick up on anything off in his body languahe

Doughnut-shaped Arabian coins

You mean they have a hole in the center

You play poker, don’t you, Lewis?” “Yes, but my dad won’t . . . ” He stopped. Jonathan saw tears in his eyes. Lewis choked down a sob and went on, “My . . . my dad wouldn’t have let me play for money.”

:(

looked at Mrs. Zimmermann with a mischievous smile. “Oh, by the way,” he said, “you might bring Lewis a glass of iced tea, and get me a refill. No sugar. And bring out another plate of chocolate-chip cookies.”

Sooo she is a domestic?

“Ignore her, Lewis. She thinks she’s smart because she’s got more college degrees than I have.”

Ok not a domestic. Jonathan just cant feed himself

And there was something else magic about the game. Lewis won. He won a lot. Usually he had rotten luck, but in this game he got straight flushes, royal flushes, four of a kind. Not all of the time, but enough to keep winning steadily.

Ok so j is a card sharp

This never happened when Lewis was dealing, but it did happen when Jonathan or Mrs. Zimmermann was dealing.

Ok she is also a sharp

but Lewis loved it. He imagined that this was the sort of room Sherlock Holmes would have slept in.

So hes a greatest hit sort of reader

“Oh, by the way, Lewis. I hope all these clocks don’t keep you awake. They’re kind of noisy, but . . . well, I like them.

Good ca reason as any to sleep deprive a child i guess

He thought of Jonathan standing paralyzed while the clock in the church steeple tolled; he thought of Mrs. Zimmermann listening at the wall.

He has no reason to think those particular 2 are related unless hes read the title

Oh, well, he thought, shrugging his shoulders, people are funny sometimes.

Love a protag with va direct line to the author who also is blankly incurious aboit everything

His parents had always warned him against crazy people, the type that lured you into their cars

He believed in magic, even though he had been taught not to. His father had spent one whole afternoon explaining to Lewis that ghosts were caused by X rays bouncing off distant planets.

Ok

Uncle Jonathan had never before given any sign that he cared what the neighbors thought about anything he did. If he wanted to sit in the glider under the chestnut tree and play a saxophone at 3 A.M. he was likely to do just that.

Ok if you say o

It was true that Lewis had only known his uncle for three weeks, but he felt that he already had a pretty good idea of what Jonathan was like.

Lampshade

Jonathan lit up his hookah.

Ok now we have weed

Initials I.I., like a Roman numeral II. You’ll find his double I carved or painted or stamped on all sorts of things all over this house: the wainscoting, the floorboards, the insides of cupboards, the fuse box, the mantelpieces—everywhere.

Why didnt l se thedm during his explorations

Built a big high board fence between this house and Mrs. Zimmermann’s. I had it torn down as soon as I moved in.” He smiled contentedly. Lewis felt that his Uncle Jonathan was happy living at 100 High Street, despite the fact that old Isaac Izard had made the place his castle.

Why is j so anti fence and what is the contradiction between j liking a house and the previous owner being a hermit.

We’re just getting to the good part. Look, here I am selfishly puffing away at this boat, and you have nothing. Let’s go out to the kitchen and get a couple of glasses of milk and some chocolate-chip cookies. Okay?”

Uh no not ok jewis doesnt want your fucking cookies he wants you to hurry the fuck up. You're Saying this because tge story is actually boring and you cant build tension without promisijng something interesting will happen eventually maybe

“Heard what?” This was Lewis, who had worked himself to the edge of his chair. He had even stopped eating his cookie.

Ok i guess if l is interested this must be interesting. Also what else do you tjink it is l after they said they wouldx talk about a clock in the wall

Then, when things are very, very quiet and you aren’t thinking about anything in particular—there it is!” Lewis jumped up and looked around wildly. “Where?”

Wtf why does l act 5? Does he not understand a figure of speech

He looked afraid. “What is it for, Uncle Jonathan? What does it do?”

its a clock dumbass. It tells time. Youre akingv the wrong question. The question is why stick aclock in the wall where no one can read it

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” said Jonathan, “though I know that I want to blot it out.

you mean muffle the sound. Thisz makes it spund like you just hate the clock personally

It sounds like it’s behind every wall: up in the attic, down in the cellar, in the closets and storerooms and parlors. And sometimes it seems to be slowing down. I keep hoping it will stop. But then it picks up and keeps going.

Now that is the interesting bit

After all, the ticking may be some leftover magic from the old coot’s experiments. Or death-watch beetles. Or

Those are both possibly dangerous?

I get the feeling that if I were to make the house quiet—perfectly quiet—then maybe I could hear the real clock, the magic one, ticking behind one particular wall, or in some cubbyhole. But it never works, and I always feel half crazy for trying.”

Yeah but y at night? Youre on a hill so no traffic

“If it’s a magic clock,” he said slowly, “then wouldn’t it be invisible?

You mean "mightn it"

One witch I knew tried to obliterate her enemy by leaving a photo of him under the running water of her gutterspout. Her reasoning was that he would die when the face on the picture was wiped out. It’s a common method.

So it worked? She straight up murdered a dude?

But what it is enchanted to do I don’t for the life of me know.”

Lol what if it just keeps ticking forever so no one can stand living in the house

But logic wasn’t much help where the clock in the walls was concerned,

Y

fat boy who

Has l been described as chubby before

Lewis still spun all the way around when he swung at a ball, and he threw his bat. At first he tried to excuse himself by saying, “Watch out, I’m gonna throw the bat!” But the other kids said, “Look, you throw the bat and we’re gonna beat you up. You hang onto it when you swing or you can’t play.”

Uh yeah ? No one wants to get brained by a bat. There is no reason why he should do either of those things barring disability. I am concerned

unless it hit him on the head. He would stagger back and forth

Phrasing. This makes it sound like he has repeated head injuries

that rickety hollow sound that split bats have.

Ok the author likes baseball

Tarby liked Lewis’s jokes,

Have we seen l tell a single joke ever

Tarby’s imitation of Mrs. Fondrighter, a mean teacher at school. Mrs. Fondrighter always called her husband “Jerrold,” which was a funny thing to do.

What does that have to do with being mean

I’ll tell you all about my Uncle Jonathan. He’s a real wizard.”

Has l not mention his uncle in 6 weeks

Remember, one night when you were bragging . . . er, talking to Mrs. Zimmermann about whether earth magic was stronger than moon magic?

I do not

Now, as soon as I have won this silly game from myself, you and I will go to the library and consult the almanac. So be quiet for a minute.” Lewis fidgeted and clasped and unclasped his hands and stared at the light fixture until Jonathan finished his game.

J is kinda a dick? He clearly lies being adored by this kid and milks it