Saffy's Angel (Paperback)

In this story, young Saffron (Saffy) finds that she is not her parent's child after all. In fact, she was the daughter of her mother's sister, adopted at a very early age. When Saffy's grandfather dies and leaves her, "Saffy's angel", the girl sets off on a quest to recover that which is rightfully hers.
The book isn't too dissimilar from "From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler" in that the story revolves around a mystery (solved by children) and a statue. The story itself is bright and lively and never gets bogged down by characters, plots, or settings. McKay too has created imaginative people, each with a distinct and subtle personality. Many parts of this book are quite amusing (for instance, Saffy's mother leaves a note that tells the others that she'll be hanging the paintings done by the juvenile delinquents she works with that reads, "hanging Young Offenders in the library"). And the story is a good one. Top notch, in fact.

My qualms (and I did have one or two) involve that old bugaboo "the artistic vs. the sane". How often do we read stories in which nice sensible people are considered troglodytes because they act normally and with reason, rather than scatterbrained and "artistic"? In this case, the reader is well set up to dislike Saffy's adoptive father. Bill mostly does not live with the family, preferring to live in London with his art and visit occasionally. Everyone is perfectly happy with this arrangement, and Bill is often set up as the jerk with too much common sense. Whenever somebody dies he inevitably acts the pompous unfeeling cad. On the other hand, the book really doesn't give enough credit to the fact that though an unwelcome parent, he's obviously far more capable than his too often negligent wife. When the children become ill, he is the one to separate them so that others do not become sick. He is capable of saying no to the children when they do something stupid or potentially dangerous. His wife, on the other hand, is completely unfit to be in charge of children. She spends all her time out of eyeshot or earshot of her kids in a shed where she paints. She never says no. When the children (miraculously, only one is a complete brat) act in inappropriate ways, "Eve (their mother) always stuck out these grim times as bravely as she could. After all, she would tell herself, she had known from the day the children were born that they were in every way more talented, intelligent, and wise than she would ever be". Which is her excuse for letting them drive to Wales with her terrible driver daughter at the wheel, sit on window ledges paralyzed with fright, or eat paint found in garbage cans.

I loved this book. I disliked the mother. Beyond that flaw, it's an enjoyable romp with children that (with the exception of the youngest little spoiled creature) you grow to love slowly but surely. I would recommend this readily without any hesitation to anyone wishing to read a fun British adventure. It is truly a book that should be better known.