Daniel Handler: Absolutely.

BB: I'm sure our readers will be relieved to hear that. After the other 11 volumes in A Series of Unfortunate Events -- The Bad Beginning, The Reptile Rom, The Wide Window, The Miserable Mill, The Austere Academy, The Vile Village, The Hostile Hospital, The Carnivorous Carnival, The Slippery Slope, and The Grim Grotto -- it's clear the Baudelaire orphans have suffered enough without their story being engulfed by another needless mystery. So, then. Will you tell us the missing title?

DH: The Ersatz Elevator.

BB: That's the title of Book the Sixth, Mr. Handler. You are Mr. Snicket's representative in all matters literary, legal, and social. Surely you must have access to some more detailed information about Book the Twelfth, as well as Mr. Snicket's whereabouts and the reasons he has gone into hiding. You must, for instance, know what state he is in?

DH: Distress.

BB: Yes, but we know Mr. Snicket is expected to appear soon. He has scheduled a live satellite transmission to theaters in 20 cities on October 18. We also know he is planning a subsequent tour of five cities. So how can you explain his and his title's sudden and prolonged disappearance?

DH: Succinctly.

BB: This will be very disappointing for our readers, Mr. Handler. Is there anything at all you can tell us about Book the Twelfth?

DH: A notoriously unreliable playwright once said, “There are no secrets except the secrets that keep themselves,” but the secrets that keep themselves are so well-kept that their secrecy is more secret that the secrecy of all other secrets is as notoriously unreliable as the playwright who once said that there are no secrets except the secrets that keep themselves. The secrets of Mr. Snicket’s 12th volume in A Series Of Unfortunate Events were unable to keep themselves, and so Mr. Snicket has had to keep himself a secret as he collects the secrets that were unable to keep themselves in absolute secrecy, in absolute secrecy. Furthermore I have had to keep Mr. Snicket’s secret concerning his secret collecting of secrecy in absolute secrecy, in absolute secrecy, so that if I even breathed a word concerning this book -- its inhospitable setting, its fraught picnics, its sunbathing spy, its perilous title, its tense spa, its complicated restauranteur, its many bells, its morally ambiguous arson, its arsonous moral ambiguity, its interrupted justice, or even the name of the person killed by the Baudelaires -- I would no longer be able to keep Mr. Snicket’s secret secrecy regarding the secrecy of Mr. Snicket’s secrets, in absolute secrecy, and we could only hope that such unkept secrets could keep themselves in absolute secrecy. Also, this is not a book anyone would enjoy reading.