I've said it before and I'll say it again, kiddie horror ain't my cup of tea. But this book, this brilliant, brilliant book.
STOP.
Before we go any further, I'd like to give a slow clap for Holly Black. The kind that breaks into a wild frenzy at the end.
Yeah. That's what I'm talking 'bout.
She has done what many authors have tried, and few have succeeded in doing for middle grade fiction. (Others have probably succeeded, but I can't read everything.) She integrated modern technology into this book without making it stand out like a ridiculous welt. I'd of liked to see it go one step further, with maybe some internet usage. But that is explained away 90% by the speed with which this story proceeds once it gets rolling. Guys, there is a SMART Board in a classroom. I repeat, a SMART Board; and nobody gets excited, they just turn and look at it... because school, I guess. The SMART Board is such a familiar site to most kids in elementary schools nowadays that they look at it like any other writing surface thru the years. Moving on....
This is a pretty decent coming of age story. And a surprisingly realistic story, despite the kids following a quest they believe was set by a ghost girl. Yup, kiddie horror. This blew The Graveyard Book out of the water on the creepiness scale. I mean look at the doll in question:
What...
Creepy...
MAKE IT STOP!!!
So you spend most of the book wondering if Polly has perhaps gone off the deep end. Then you figure 'what the heck' and jump on the crazy train. But the longer you ride the crazy train, the less crazy it seems. You're Zach and you just don't know if you can ride any longer but you know that getting off will be the biggest disappointment of your life.
Someone needs to go over the moral compass of these kids to because running off, stealing a boat, and stealing bikes in the name of 'the quest' is a bad plan. I realize that heroes get away with this crap quite often in classic stories though so I'm letting it slide.
What I cannot let slide is the awesome father-son moment that totally blind-sided me on page 206. Way too short. It ranked up there with Onion John in the father-son moments of literature, but was only a few pages. Yet I had to put the book aside for a moment and just breathe a sigh of relief.
This story is written to make you identify with Zach, but you know who I really identify with? The questionably crazy Polly. When I worked with kids during my college courses there were children that really got under my skin. You know those ones that are basically mini-versions of yourself: as in, carbon-copies. No one wants someone that is exactly the same as them to hang out with. You probably have lots of similarities with your friends, but it is the different little quirks that endear them to you. (Example: My best friend in college was heartless, you know, in a good way, but I'm almost sickeningly sweet and expect the best of humanity. People even said we didn't match, we are that opposite.)
It is natural law that opposites attract. Otherwise you'd end up marrying you and having little you-babies. And ain't nobody in the relationship want that. Anyway, Polly has a map of Narnia in her room, shelves full of fantasy books, plays little make believe games, and watches Doctor Who... I'm considering a lawsuit for Holly Black stealing my life story, I'll keep you posted. The character that I should love because we are so much exactly alike, drives me a little insane. She is one of those dear, dear, fictional characters that I want to smack in the back of the head and tell off.
Grammar has occasionally been dumped in favor of saying it like it is.
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