this poignant melodrama's based on fact.

I wondered if it was going to be a one-off thing at first in ?1 when Theodora calls Lemony her husband and then her son basically in one go, and if it was only commentary on the concept of parentification. (It is unambiguously a way of immediately indicating that Theodora will not treat him appropriately.)

However. Handler draws parallels between parenthood and lovership more than once, and…

Not only is Les Gommes (the building near the abandoned aquarium) also a novel about a detective destined to become an assassin, but the plot itself is based off of the myth of Oedipus.

Keeping in mind the above point, a common characterization of film noir femme fatales is that they are looking for a man to kill their husband in hopes of personal gain, in addition to the usual "being captive or at least implying they're captive to some inescapable situation" and everything else. Ellington is, very obviously, a satire of this trope.

Keeping in mind the two above points: Armstrong Feint is Ellington's father, not her husband. Ellington is a child and this is a book about youth freedoms, and so she is oppressed on the basis of her youth first and foremost. Her father, naturally, is the man holding her captive.

Finally, it's exceedingly obvious by this point that Hangfire is Armstrong Feint. There is no reason for Hangfire to associate the tune Lemony whistles with Ellington, because they have not met. There is no reason for Hangfire to hide the record player from Lemony, unless he understands it has significance to both of them. And, of course, there is no reason for Hangfire to have the record player at all, unless it is significant to him. Even Ellington's papers, which would theoretically be much more relevant to him, are being protected by Nurse Dander.

Anyways, the writing is on the wall and I'm calling it now that Lemony is going to grievously injure/maim/manslaughter Hangfire who is also Ellington's father. If I'm right I want a free soda.

If you read to the end: Congratulations here are some Ellingtons I've drawn.

As a note, I'm actually starting my Snicketverse journey with ATWQ because Ellington has been my blorbo-in-law for a few months and I have a literary weak spot for emotionally unavailable teenage girls. (Luckily, my friend has been really good about avoiding spoilers.)

Coffee, laudanum, and The Wind in the Willows

I really like the coffee metaphor here, so I'm going to talk about it first. Coffee is the bitter and terrible complexity of adolescent maturity. Ellington is a precocious coffee-drinker, forced to confront the world's horrors early, and Lemony prefers root beer— which he can't find in Stain'd-by-the-Sea. Ellington offers him the choice to enter the world of adults early on, but he rejects it, and when he's at Black Cat Coffee on his own, he doesn't take it, either. In ?2, she tries to find him root beer instead, but fails— despite their desires, and Ellington's desire to please him, their relationship can't remain simple and innocent.

Coffee, too, is a weapon against laudanum. I'm still gathering my thoughts on laudanum's significance... but I think it represents the desire for peaceful ignorance, or at least disconnect from the world around you. Lemony rejects it from the start, Cleo Knight's parents are manipulated into it, the children at Wade are surrounded by it, and it's a signature tool for Hangfire. But then, what is the bark? It's not coincidence it resembles a cigarette, an addictive vice many children indulge in far too early. Hangfire has been using it for a considerable time. This is the kind of awareness that damages the people around you, isn't it? Is it awareness at all, or ignorance disguised as maturity? I'm still putting the pieces together.

In any case, Lemony is forced to taste the bitterness of growing up after ignoring it for so long, and the maturity he tastes is filtered through a handkerchief. Ellington can only offer him and their associates the disgusting taste of her own experience, now that they're all trapped in the clutches of Hangfire.

Despite her invaluable part in saving Lemony's associates, though... they exclude her.

Their secret code is The Wind in the Willows. For those who don't obsessively Google every book Handler mentions by name, Wind in the Willows is a book about a toad who becomes so obsessed with cars that he gets into accidents, and puts himself and others in danger. Despite his friends holding an intervention for him, he tricks them to escape and eventually ends up in jail. He later escapes disguised as a washerwoman. I'm sure none of that is a surprise tool that will help us later. :)

Of course, Ellington hasn't read it. Her father, in her words, "never got around to it". He should have taught her earlier. Maybe she still believes that one day he'll get around it, despite her being far too old now. Because of what he neglected to do for her, she's an outcast in her own friend group... and when they ask her about it, she spits back a question about jazz. She knows about jazz. So does Lemony. Presumably, she knows because her father got around to teaching her.

Ellington as the enfant fatale

I thought I had said all I wanted to say about Ellington and the whole noir thing but I lied.

The character archetype of the femme fatale is driven by fears of romantic deception and female independence. In the 40s and 50s, the era of the film noir, the lives of women had changed drastically as the result of WWII driving many of them into the labor force. Working women had newfound financial independence, so it's probably no surprise that the whole "fictional women killing their husbands for riches" thing took the stage. It's also no surprise that they were still written to be fragile women, often in situations they could not escape, requiring the assistance of men to do so.

Before that, in the Jazz Age, there was the "baby vamp": slang for a young, attractive, flirtatious woman. Related to this was the "jazz baby", a term referring to a young independent woman, named so thanks to her love for jazz and the nightlife of the time. She was subsequently characterized as being irresponsible, promiscuous, and leading a life her parents would disapprove of.

Enter Ellington. Ellington is marvelous. She is cunning, intelligent, independent, attractive, and powerful (older, taller, or perhaps both)... yet, she is not brilliant, by Lemony's words. Whatever curiosity might lay inside her is overshadowed by single-minded obsession. When it comes to Armstrong Feint, she's helpless, fragile, weak, childish, dependent. Even her interest in jazz music— a genre that might have been frowned upon by society at large at this point— is something instilled in her by her brilliant father, kidnapping brilliant people for wicked schemes. She's been kidnapped by Hangfire since the day she was born.

Her relationship with Lemony, too, is smothered by him. How much of the hayride was real, if any of it?

In a lot of ways, Ellington is the result of adults' fear of children's independence: the fear of darling, simple little girls growing up into complicated women.

And of course, because she is a personne fatale, she needs a man to kill her husband. She may not know that she needs it, but she will never be free, and she will never have emotional independence, until Armstrong Feint is out of the picture.

Les Gommes and emotional incest

Thank you to the two+ people in the tags cheering for emotional incest because I was really worried at first that I was going to put people off if I started my post with "THEY'RE CALLING IT THE EMOTIONAL INCEST SERIES OF ALL TIME". How many times can I say emotional incest before I get a callout post. Anyways.

To do a thorough analysis I think I'm going to need more time to acquaint myself with other works of Handler's, but I realized lots of people hadn't put the Les Gommes thing together, so let's talk about that, too...

As established, Les Gommes is a French detective novel with a non-linear narrative, inspired by the myth of Oedipus. In the book, the detective protagonist is investigating a murder that has not actually occurred. Over the course of the story, we get hints that the detective may very well be, or become, the assassin. It is heavily implied that the (supposedly) assassinated man is the protagonist's father, and at the end of the book, the detective shoots him.

In short, Oedipus kills his father. Does he marry his mother? Debatable. Maybe the metaphor begins and ends with Les Gommes. Or, if Ellington and Lemony are both Oedipus as a unit (let's see how right I am about that twist), then Theodora is his mother, isn't she?

Even if you've forgotten about the way Theodora introduces herself and Lemony as "a young woman and [her] husband" in Chapter Two of ?1, it is so, so apparent that Theodora has little to no boundaries with Lemony. She insists that she's responsible for him, but neglects him at every turn. She feels entitled to his time, his physical presence, his emotional consideration, and his obedience... only when it is convenient for her.

"People do terrible things because they do not know what else to do." When contrasted with Sharon and Kellar Haines, it's clearer than ever that Theodora does not know who else to be except his nagging mother. She's a victim herself, judging by her behavior with Sharon and the reveal of her shattered self-esteem to Lemony. She does wants to protect him, in her own way, from trouble and treachery. Still, she nearly hits him, the same way Sharon raised her hand against her own son. And Sharon does hit her!

Theodora does not know what else to do but abuse, neglect, and parentify Lemony. And when Sharon betrays her, she ignores Lemony's needs, putting him in a position where he must navigate and validate her woes in order to protect himself.

So, yes, Theodora and Lemony are enmeshed, too. You might even argue that they're married, just like Ellington is married to her father.

... I think I'm going to need to separate these all into different, more coherent essays when I'm done reading. WOOF. I don't have any other sketches of Ellington because I've been busy feverishly reading. Sorry.