About this time last year, I obsessively read the original six novels in Nancy Springer's Enola Holmes series. Six books, five days. They were a fucking hit when they were originally published in the early 2000s. And they were a renewed hit a year ago when Millie Bobby Brown stared in (and produced--fucking badass females for the win) the Netflix movie adaptation last September. Last month, a short story (e-reader only) was released ("Enola Holmes and the Boy in Buttons"); last week a seventh novel in the series was released ("Enola Holmes and the Black Barouche"--this post's focus).
["Enola Holmes is the much younger sister of her more famous brothers, Sherlock and Mycroft. But she has all the wits, skills, and sleuthing inclinations of them both. At fifteen, she's an independent young woman--after all, her name spelled backwards reads 'alone'--and living on her own in London. When a young professional woman, Miss Letitia Glover, shows up on Sherlock's doorstep, desperate to learn more about the fate of her twin sister, it is Enola who steps up. It seems her sister, the former Felicity Glover, married the Earl of Dunhench and per a curt note from the Earl, has died. But Letitia Glover is convinced this isn't the truth, that she'd know--she'd feel--if her twin had died.
The Earl's note is suspiciously vague and the death certificate is even more dubious, signed it seems by a John H. Watson, M.D. (who denies any knowledge of such). The only way forward is for Enola to go undercover--or so Enola decides at the vehement objection of her brother. And she soon finds out that this is not the first of the Earl's wives to die suddenly and vaguely--and that the secret to the fate of the missing Felicity is tied to a mysterious black barouche that arrived at the Earl's home in the middle of the night. To uncover the secrets held tightly within the Earl's hall, Enola is going to require help--from Sherlock, from the twin sister of the missing woman, and from an old friend, the young Viscount Tewkesbury, Marquess of Basilwether!"]
So good, and so cute. Now that Enola doesn't have to run from Sherlock (and Mycroft--for forcibly putting her in finishing school), they make a fabulous team. Enola does her own thing. Sherlock does his own thing. They judge each other's methods. They come together to save more innocent people from the evil-as-fuck patriarchy.
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