The Ravens of Solemano or The Order of the Mysterious Men in Black

The Ravens of Solemano or The Order of the Mysterious Men in Black

4.5 2
by Eden Unger Bowditch

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Meet Woody Robins, a bon vivant, devil-may-care wine guru who specializes in investigatory work involving rare artifacts of a vinous nature. Amidst the backdrop of world-famous Napa, California wine country, and upbeat, cosmopolitan "city by the bay" San Francisco, Woody finds he's bitten off more than he can chew when hired by a wealthy grape grower to retrieve his…  See more details below


Meet Woody Robins, a bon vivant, devil-may-care wine guru who specializes in investigatory work involving rare artifacts of a vinous nature. Amidst the backdrop of world-famous Napa, California wine country, and upbeat, cosmopolitan "city by the bay" San Francisco, Woody finds he's bitten off more than he can chew when hired by a wealthy grape grower to retrieve his stolen, rare, priceless, large bottle of red Burgundy that once belonged to the French emperor, Napoleon Bonaparte. Tested by a colorful cast of characters, deceit, blackmail, intrigue, dealings with the mob and even murder ensue. With the help of his dozy boyhood chum, girlfriend, aunt and detective buddy with San Francisco's finest, he eventually manages to unravel the case, but not before he learns a thing or two about himself. Edward Finstein, aka "The Wine Doctor," is an internationally recognized wine expert. He is the award-winning author of "Ask the Wine Doctor." A TV and radio host, he is a renowned journalist writing for numerous newspapers, magazines and on the Internet in North America and abroad. As an international wine judge, he travels the world judging in competitions. Edward is also a Professor of Wine at George Brown College's School of Hospitality and Culinary Arts, a wine consultant, wine appraiser, wine tour guide, and former V.P. of the Wine Writers' Circle of Canada. "Doc," as he is known, believes wine should be fun, and he preaches the gospel with a sense of humor and whimsy. He lives in Toronto with his wife Jo Ann and their cat Pepper. You can reach him through his website or via email at

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Editorial Reviews

VOYA - Julia Bowersox
The second book in The Young Inventors Guild series begins with the happy reunion of the Young Inventors Guild with their parents being hastily brought to a halt by an explosion that leaves the children in the care of their loving teacher, Miss Brett. Once again the children are dragged across the world by the oddly dressed "mysterious men in black." The mysterious men in black keep the children and Miss Brett safe, fed, warm, and as comfortable as possible, and provide the tools needed for the children to document and create different inventions as they travel. They travel by train, boat, boat-converting-into-submarine, and carriage, and eventually end up in a castle inside a mountain in Italy. The lack of cohesive communication between the mysterious men in black and Miss Brett and the children leads to confusion, distrust, and anxiety. It is far too late in the novel that they come to realize who the mysterious men in black are and who the villains really are. This novel starts out slowly and does not start moving until the second half, when the children and Miss Brett finally have a mission and discover the importance of being a part of the historical Young Inventors Guild. If readers can stick it out, they will enjoy this historical-steampunk-sci-fi-mystery. Reviewer: Julia Bowersox
author of the acclaimed Knights Templar series and the Medieval Murderers series - Michael Jecks,
This woman Eden Unger Bowditch is a keen writer.
- - Kirkus Reviews
In the middle volume of a planned trilogy, Bowditch’s Young Inventors Guild travels to an ancient Italian village, unearthing more questions than even an international team of geniuses can answer. The pace quickens in a suspenseful end that answers many questions but leaves others unresolved for the conclusion.
Movie Producer, Los Angeles, CA - April Sugarman
This is quite a book! I loved how the story came together in the end. I loved the introduction of the submarine and Tesla. I hope they make this one into a movie because I can't wait to see how they make the changing stairways/tunnels happen at the end―that was one of my favorite parts. I also love that because it's inspiring to children now―that their ideas today could be the world's treasures of the future. Can't wait to read the next book!
Literary Mama - Caroline Grant
Bowditch has commented that she wanted to write a book for kids who loved the Harry Potter series but longed for less magic and more science; in this series, she definitely achieves that goal.
Children's Bookstore, Baltimore, MD - Emma Casale
It's a fairly well-accepted fact that the second book in a trilogy is weaker than either the first or the final volume, leaving readers unsatisfied and impatient for the final volume. Not so with this sequel. From the explosion on page 20 through to the final page, The Ravens of Solemano is full of adventure, danger, and secrets unraveled, leaving readers satisfied and eager for the final volume.

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Product Details

Bancroft Press
Publication date:
The Young Inventors Guild
Product dimensions:
6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 1.20(d)

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The Ravens of Solemano or The Order of the Mysterious Men in Black

The Young Inventors Guild, Book 2

By Eden Unger Bowditch

Bancroft Press

Copyright © 2013 Eden Unger Bowditch
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-61088-104-3



Before the enormous explosion, there was calm. For the passengers on the train, this was a lovely calm.

This was not the kind of train one takes from town to country and back. It was not the kind of train one rides to work or to the fair It was not the kind of train one takes across the continents or for holiday abroad. This train, unlike others, was, well, very much unlike others.

This train had a grand salon with a fine fireplace that warmed the whole car. On this train there was a spectacular laboratory filled with tools of invention. There was a grand observatory with a high glass-domed ceiling and telescopes with gears that allowed levers a great range of movement. There were beautiful sleeping compartments for each of the traveling families. And for several days, since the travelers first climbed on board, the train had made no stops. In fact, besides the few who were traveling together there were no other passengers aboard at all.

But there was a dining car. Without a doubt, that car was a delicious experience of taste and smell. Before the explosion, five children and most of their parents sat around the long dining table.

"Well, this looks familiar," said thirteen-year-old Faye Vigyanveta with a groan, looking out the window. The rain had stopped and the land was wet—brown and wet for miles and miles. A smallish man, dressed in black with a frilly apron and a chefs hat, stood beside her. He picked up a cinnamon stick with a pair of pincers and placed it beside her cup. Faye did not thank him or look up to acknowledge this presentation. She simply picked up the cinnamon stick and began to stir her tea. She looked at the boy across the table and rolled her eyes.

Ten-year-old Wallace Banneker, descendant of the great Benjamin Banneker and Louis Latimer, adjusted his glasses but said nothing. He looked down at the eggs on his plate. He knew what his father was going to say about a boy and his appetite, but Wallace was already full from the toast and jam.

This was not the case for the boy next to him. "I'll have another crumpet," said twelve-year-old Noah Canto-Sagas before swallowing the three he had in his mouth. "And the apricot jam, too ... please?" He reached across Wallace's plate, barely skimming the jiggling eggs as he tried to grab the jam pot, which was just beyond his fingers. Wallace moved the pot closer so Noah could take it.

"Honestly, Noah." Faye shook her head as Noah poured the jam onto his crumpets. Noah smiled a food-filled smile at Faye. Faye again shook her head, long, dark chestnut hair falling freely down her back and over her shoulders.

"Can you pass the other pot of jam, Lady Faye?" Noah asked. Faye showed a look of disgust, but did, indeed, pass the jam.

Before they'd all gathered for breakfast, Faye had been working on her wing design, and Noah had been working with twelve-year-old Jasper Modest on a mechanical chess set. Jasper had been caught between fits of laughter with Noah and quick glances at Faye.

As he worked, Jasper tried not to stare, but Faye always looked so beautiful when she was concentrating. Her green eyes seemed to get even greener. He liked to watch her when her passion was pleasure. When she was, instead, angry, those green eyes could burn a hole right through you. Ever since the children had recovered their missing parents, Jasper had noticed that Faye had her mother's eyes—or rather, she shared the color. But Faye's eyes were like no others. No one had eyes so intense, so beautiful. While her mother was American, blond and tall, Faye's father was from India and gave Faye her beautiful bronze skin. Jasper noticed that, too.

As they sat around the table now, Jasper stole a glance over at Faye. She looked back, and her wrinkled nose at Noah turned into a disarming smile at Jasper. Blushing from his belly to his ears, Jasper quickly stabbed himself in the cheek with his fork, then knocked over his glass and dropped his napkin into his cocoa.

"It's because of the little bunny hole he makes in the softness of the sand. See?" came the voice of Lucy Modest. Lucy had followed Faye's gaze as she looked out the window. "Yesterday it wasn't as big, but we certainly did pass by his house."

"Quelle mémoire!" said her mother, Dr. Isobel Modest. "My girl does remember everything." And this was true. Lucy could remember everything. It's just that sometimes, things could be lost in the translation from Lucy's brain to a language anyone else in the world could understand.

"What house, Lucy?" asked Wallace, who saw no house.

"Is it an imaginary house?" asked Noah. "Or is it just invisible? Maybe you need to go back to sleep."

* * *

Earlier, Lucy had been like a sleeping kitten in her mother's lap. But Lucy had not been asleep. Not really. She had decided to pretend to sleep. This way, she could feel what it was like simply to sleep within her mother's grasp. Getting her mother all to herself was a rare and special thing for Lucy, and because this was so rare and special, she didn't want to miss it by sleeping. So there she had lain, experiencing the joy of her mother's slender legs against her almost seven-year-old cheek—at least until the train had lurched as it came to a curve around some rising hills on the plains.

"I hope nothing's tumbled over," Faye's mother Gwendolyn had noted as she straightened her skirt and adjusted strands of her blond hair that had come undone from the large bun at the nape of her neck.

Suddenly, Lucy had jumped up from her mother's lap. She looked around, her special bracelet in her mouth, and ran out of the room.

Lucy had then run through the doors and into her family's sleeping quarters. She opened the door to the room she shared with her parents and Jasper and quickly climbed onto her bed. She reached under her pillow and sighed with relief. The journal, she found, was safely tucked away. She leaned over and kissed it and straightened the ribbon that kept it closed.

This journal was precious to Lucy. In fact, it was precious to them all. But Lucy felt responsible, for it was her role to hold it and keep it safe. The lurching of the train might have sent her pillow flying, and then the journal could have flipped out of the bed and been torn—or even slipped out the window! She was glad it was safe and, checking once again that it was still beneath the pillow and hadn't disappeared (since things and people often did in Lucy's life), she then hurried back to the others.

* * *

Now, Lucy looked out the window at a stand of trees she knew they had passed before.

"There's the house, near the trees," she insisted, pointing in the direction

Faye had been looking.

"There's no house, Lucy," Noah said.

"Silly, of course there is!" Lucy pointed more emphatically, her finger wagging.

"It's not there," Noah said, buttering another scone.

"Yes, it is quite," said Lucy. "He's dug it out himself. Oh, I hope his ears didn't get wet in the rain."

Noah threw a look at Jasper. "Rabbit?" Noah mouthed silently. Jasper nodded.

"We've passed this way exactly seven times," said Lucy. "There's the sand cherry turning red." Lucy identified a tight clump of bushy plants that had, in fact, turned a deep but mottled red. The last time, just days before, the leaves hadn't yet turned—or, at least, Faye didn't remember seeing anything so colorful from the window.

"It feels as if we've passed this way a hundred times," groaned Faye, pouring milk into her tea, "no matter what color the leaves are."

"As we must," said Dr. Rajesh Vigyanveta to his daughter. "It is for our own good."

"And what is that supposed to mean exactly, Father?" Faye asked. "How is any of this for our own good?"

"Faye, dear," said her mother soothingly, "there are things that just must be because ..." Looking at her husband, then the other adults, she simply said, "Because they must be. It is for the best." Gwendolyn Vigyanveta smiled at her daughter. Faye looked at her mother, who sounded more like a small-minded country girl than the world-class scientist she was.

Faye opened her mouth to argue, but caught Jasper's eye. She knew what he was saying with that look. He was right. There was no point complaining. Had Faye gotten anywhere complaining? At best, she simply failed. At worst, her complaining got them all into trouble.

Faye threw an angry glance at the mysterious man in black bringing a pot of tea to the table. At this point, she had no choice but to agree that the mysterious men in black (in their bunny ears, or frocks and pinafores, or bloomers and frilly bonnets) were likely there to guard them and meant no harm. Still, Faye saw them as her jailers. They made her furious, these horrid men with their lunatic dress and bizarre speech. To Faye, they had been kidnappers, stealing her from her life on the estate in India, taking her from her own home and her own creatures and her servants and her laboratory

The other children and their parents, too, had all been dragged from their homes—Jasper and Lucy from London, England; Noah from Toronto, Canada; and Wallace from Long Island, New York, here in America.

Faye had to admit that life before—before the farmhouse outside Dayton, Ohio, before the train, before Miss Brett—had been lonely Captive as she was, she was now among friends. Friends are the one thing she had never had before. But she could not believe that this was all "for their own good," as her parents seemed to believe. At least they tried to convince her of it, whether or not they really believed it themselves.

Noah, with his mop of red hair, pulled a small white chess pawn from his pocket. He attempted to balance it on his nose. Either by intention or misadventure, he flipped it into his not-yet-empty cup. With a shrug, he picked up the cup and slurped, finishing every last drop, except for the pawn. Faye made a grimace, placed her own cup daintily into its saucer, and tapped the cinnamon stick gently on the rim of her cup before putting it, too, on the saucer. Noah, who still had a full plate, reached for yet another crumpet from the basket of hot fresh treats being placed on the table by the man in black bunny ears. His mother, Ariana Canto-Sagas, her beautiful platinum necklace sparkling on her neck, picked up the basket and moved it out of reach of her son's hunting fingers.

The door to the salon opened, and Dr. Banneker appeared, filling the doorway with his brawny form. Stepping aside, he gestured and Miss Brett entered. All the children were delighted to see her. As always, their teacher looked lovely. She was so pretty and kind, and her smile brightened the room. Like everyone else, she seemed to have relaxed tremendously now that all the families were finally back together again.

Miss Brett had been with the children in confinement and isolation at Sole Manner Farm. She had been there when they first arrived, unsure of why they had come. She had been there, with them, as they feared and fretted, not knowing where their parents were.

And she had been there when he had come—the mysterious and terrifying man who had threatened all their lives.

Miss Brett had grown to love these children dearly. To her, they were more than pupils, and more than charges. She cared deeply for each and every one of them. She was so very glad to see them basking in pleasure with their parents again.

"Now that looks like a mighty fine spread," said Dr. Banneker, looking at the table. He pulled a chair out for Miss Brett, then went over to Wallace and put a large hand on his son's small shoulder. "You need more meat on them bones, son," he said, patting Wallace's shoulder. The boy winced. When his father wasn't trying to make him grow, he was reminding Wallace that, given all their brownskinned ancestors of scientific fame and glory, he had mighty big shoes to fill. Sitting down beside Wallace, Dr. Banneker piled more eggs and cakes onto his son's plate, then did the same for himself.

"He's, well ... That is certainly a full plate," Miss Brett said. She knew Wallace was not much of an eater, and that he would never finish that plate. That said, Miss Brett did notice how much Wallace had grown already. He was still small for his age, but the slightly pudgy little boy was leaner and taller than when they had met all those months ago.

* * *

Before breakfast, Wallace, like the others, had been working on an invention—actually, an experiment with magnets. At the age of ten, he was quite a chemist.

Miss Brett had been sitting by the fire. "What are you doing there, Wallace?" Miss Brett had asked as she counted stitches. She was knitting scarves for each of the children.

"I've weighed this rare earth element and introduced a small layer of bismuth on one side, since, after consideration, I felt it would be the strongest elemental choice. See ..." Wallace showed how the magnet in his hand caused the thimble on the armrest to roll away from him instead of toward him. "The bismuth has created a diamagnetic reaction," he said, "pushing away instead of pulling toward itself, repelling instead of attracting as one would expect." Wallace adjusted his glasses and looked at Miss Brett, smiling.

Her hands had stopped knitting, and she simply stared. She had become quite used to being told things that were well beyond her ken. She often gazed blankly at the inventions and experiments of the brilliant children in her care. Though she was used to it, there were times when she was still shocked by what they could do.

She realized she was staring with her mouth open. She shook her head to break the spell and smiled broadly at him. "Well, now that is something," she finally said.

Wallace adjusted his glasses again. "I've considered that this would create the strongest magnetic force. We had decided that neodymium might be better than the cobalt." By "we," he'd meant he and his colleague, but before breakfast, his colleague had been busy feigning sleep in her mother's lap.

"How did you do all this?" Miss Brett leaned over to see his magnets.

"We used the small sintering furnace from the laboratory to heat the powder. I combined it with steel." Wallace held the plaster mold in his hand. It had cooled and was ready

"Mmmm," said Miss Brett.

Opening the mold, he had smiled, dropping the magnet into his palm.

"You've made a perfect sphere." Miss Brett was amazed.

Wallace smiled and showed her another he had made earlier. The old one was perfect, too. He polished it against his shirt and nodded to himself. Yes, the alloy would make the strongest magnet. He could already feel it tugging toward the coin in his pocket—the lucky coin his father had finally returned to him.

Wallace had managed to balance the magnet between the iron coils. Then he pulled the coin from his pocket. Carefully, Wallace got it to float between his magnets.

Miss Brett gasped. "Wallace, how clever! It ... it's like magic!"

"It's science," he said.

"To me, science is magic," she said. "And these magnets are amazing."

"I've always loved magnets," Wallace said, "ever since my father read me Gilbert's De Magnete when I was four."

Excerpted from The Ravens of Solemano or The Order of the Mysterious Men in Black by Eden Unger Bowditch. Copyright © 2013 Eden Unger Bowditch. Excerpted by permission of Bancroft Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Meet the Author

Eden Unger Bowditch has been writing since she was very small. She has been writing since she could use her brain to think of something to say. She wrote at the University of California, Berkeley, and she wrote songs as a member of the band 'enormous'.

She has written stories and plays and shopping lists and screenplays and dreams and poems--and also books about her longtime Baltimore home. She has lived in Chicago and France and other places on the planet, and has been a journalist, as well as a welder, and an editor, and other things, too.

The Atomic Weight of Secrets is the first installment of The Young Inventors Guild trilogy. The Ravens of Solemano is the second.

Presently, Eden lives with her family (husband and three children) in Cairo, Egypt. But that's another story entirely . . .

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