Bogged down by a disconnected main character and overwhelming implausibility.
In this YA novel, an orphaned high schooler develops fantastical abilities that put those around him at risk.
What father, upon discovering that a child molester has hold of his child, wouldn’t fly into a murderous rage? Seven-year-old Robert Lawson’s father does exactly that; but instead of being hailed as a hero, he’s made the victim of a crusading district attorney who manages, unrealistically, to get the man convicted of first-degree murder. The sleepy town of North Fork, Calif.—which boasts one grocery store and one elementary school teacher—constructs a special detention center with an execution room, apparently just for this one man. Most implausibly, the imprisonment, trial and death by injection all take place within about nine months. Soon, Robert’s mother dies of cancer, and he’s sent to a grim residential care complex, then finally to a foster mother. Even though Robert never leaves North Fork, and his father’s execution (which Robert witnessed) must be the biggest news the town has ever seen, he forgets how his father died and no one reminds him. By high school, things are looking up for Robert: Some would-be bullies back off in great pain after trying to threaten him, he makes a friend and he even has a girlfriend. But then everyone in his school except him becomes deathly ill. The small-town mayor, who wields an unlikely amount of power, has Robert whisked away without due process to a prisonlike hospital. There, based on the theory that he caused the illnesses, he’s interrogated, kept under guard in solitary confinement without books, Internet or visitors, and subjected to vague, painful tests. Robert decides he must run away, if only to protect people from himself. In the wilderness, he makes an important animal friend and learns more about himself, his abilities and how to control them, setting the stage for the next volume in a planned series. In his debut, Ramirez is at his best in scenes between Robert and his best friend, Henry; their dialogue is lively and natural, and Robert comes to life in ways he doesn’t otherwise in the book. Beyond that, very little in the book feels natural, with many events straining credulity. Robert’s reactions are mostly flat and remote, even when events are at their strangest and saddest. Instead of building up the suspense, the pacing lags, while several continuity errors—like a 7-year-old doing eighth-grade homework—also get in the way. The last chapter leaves hope that the next entry in this series, when Robert finally harnesses his abilities, will be more satisfying.
Bogged down by a disconnected main character and overwhelming implausibility.Pub Date: Feb. 29, 2012
ISBN: 978-0983419884
Page Count: 336
Publisher: Vinspire Publishing
Review Posted Online: July 23, 2012
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
Broccoli: No way is James going to eat broccoli. “It’s disgusting,” says James. Well then, James, says his father, let’s consider the alternatives: some wormy dirt, perhaps, some stinky socks, some pre-chewed gum? James reconsiders the broccoli, but—milk? “Blech,” says James. Right, says his father, who needs strong bones? You’ll be great at hide-and-seek, though not so great at baseball and kickball and even tickling the dog’s belly. James takes a mouthful. So it goes through lumpy oatmeal, mushroom lasagna and slimy eggs, with James’ father parrying his son’s every picky thrust. And it is fun, because the father’s retorts are so outlandish: the lasagna-making troll in the basement who will be sent back to the rat circus, there to endure the rodent’s vicious bites; the uneaten oatmeal that will grow and grow and probably devour the dog that the boy won’t be able to tickle any longer since his bones are so rubbery. Schneider’s watercolors catch the mood of gentle ribbing, the looks of bewilderment and surrender and the deadpanned malarkey. It all makes James’ father’s last urging—“I was just going to say that you might like them if you tried them”—wholly fresh and unexpected advice. (Early reader. 5-9)
Pub Date: May 1, 2011
ISBN: 978-0-547-14956-1
Page Count: 48
Publisher: Clarion Books
Review Posted Online: April 4, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 1, 2011
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
The seemingly ageless Seeger brings back his renowned giant for another go in a tuneful tale that, like the art, is a bit sketchy, but chockful of worthy messages. Faced with yearly floods and droughts since they’ve cut down all their trees, the townsfolk decide to build a dam—but the project is stymied by a boulder that is too huge to move. Call on Abiyoyo, suggests the granddaughter of the man with the magic wand, then just “Zoop Zoop” him away again. But the rock that Abiyoyo obligingly flings aside smashes the wand. How to avoid Abiyoyo’s destruction now? Sing the monster to sleep, then make it a peaceful, tree-planting member of the community, of course. Seeger sums it up in a postscript: “every community must learn to manage its giants.” Hays, who illustrated the original (1986), creates colorful, if unfinished-looking, scenes featuring a notably multicultural human cast and a towering Cubist fantasy of a giant. The song, based on a Xhosa lullaby, still has that hard-to-resist sing-along potential, and the themes of waging peace, collective action, and the benefits of sound ecological practices are presented in ways that children will both appreciate and enjoy. (Picture book. 5-9)
Pub Date: Oct. 1, 2001
ISBN: 0-689-83271-0
Page Count: 40
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2001
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