A sometimes-appealing tale of a small town, hampered by barely concealed proselytizing.
In this thriller, a reporter attempts to exonerate an immigrant falsely accused of terrorism.
Shahnaz Delpak, an Iranian woman whose son attends school in Piskasanet County, complains at a meeting of the board of education that the system’s textbooks vilify her Muslim heritage while explicitly endorsing Christianity. School board member Beatrice Doggit counters by advocating textbooks that unabashedly celebrate Jesus Christ. Apropos of nothing, another pair of parents demands that teachers be armed as a precautionary measure against terrorist attacks and boisterously announces that they have guns with them at that very moment. Just as the argument reaches a fever pitch, a young man appears and trains his own gun on Shahnaz. In one of many heavy-handed moments in Keech’s (First World Problems, 2017) novel, the two armed parents flee in cowardly manner, while three unarmed teachers wrestle the gunman to the ground. A shot is fired in the chaos, and the errant bullet hits a teacher in the leg. The young attacker is high school senior Willard Scherd, who’s taken into custody—along with Shahnaz. The community’s response is terrified distortion; although Scherd is a white, Christian American, rumors circulate that the attack was by a Muslim extremist—so Shahnaz becomes a prime subject of investigation. Young reporter Anthony Mansfield conducts one investigation of his own to vindicate Shahnaz, and another into Beatrice’s opportunistic plan. Keech’s prose style is charmingly companionable, and he depicts the romantic entanglements of Anthony’s personal life, including an involvement with his boss’s daughter, with a tone of sweetness and humor. However, the overall plot is tediously didactic, diligently leading the reader to sententious lessons about prejudice and gun control. Indeed, the author’s overweening desire to push his viewpoints on readers results in characters that are straw-man caricatures, such as the father of the gunman: “I’ve had enough of you snowflake libtard pussies. We’re Americans. We have the right to carry guns. It’s in the damn Constitution.”
A sometimes-appealing tale of a small town, hampered by barely concealed proselytizing.Pub Date: Sept. 1, 2018
ISBN: N/A
Page Count: 266
Publisher: Real Nice Books
Review Posted Online: July 21, 2019
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.
Are we not men? We are—well, ask Bigfoot, as Brooks does in this delightful yarn, following on his bestseller World War Z(2006).
A zombie apocalypse is one thing. A volcanic eruption is quite another, for, as the journalist who does a framing voice-over narration for Brooks’ latest puts it, when Mount Rainier popped its cork, “it was the psychological aspect, the hyperbole-fueled hysteria that had ended up killing the most people.” Maybe, but the sasquatches whom the volcano displaced contributed to the statistics, too, if only out of self-defense. Brooks places the epicenter of the Bigfoot war in a high-tech hideaway populated by the kind of people you might find in a Jurassic Park franchise: the schmo who doesn’t know how to do much of anything but tries anyway, the well-intentioned bleeding heart, the know-it-all intellectual who turns out to know the wrong things, the immigrant with a tough backstory and an instinct for survival. Indeed, the novel does double duty as a survival manual, packed full of good advice—for instance, try not to get wounded, for “injury turns you from a giver to a taker. Taking up our resources, our time to care for you.” Brooks presents a case for making room for Bigfoot in the world while peppering his narrative with timely social criticism about bad behavior on the human side of the conflict: The explosion of Rainier might have been better forecast had the president not slashed the budget of the U.S. Geological Survey, leading to “immediate suspension of the National Volcano Early Warning System,” and there’s always someone around looking to monetize the natural disaster and the sasquatch-y onslaught that follows. Brooks is a pro at building suspense even if it plays out in some rather spectacularly yucky episodes, one involving a short spear that takes its name from “the sucking sound of pulling it out of the dead man’s heart and lungs.” Grossness aside, it puts you right there on the scene.
A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.Pub Date: June 16, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-9848-2678-7
Page Count: 304
Publisher: Del Rey/Ballantine
Review Posted Online: Feb. 9, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2020
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK TO SCREEN
A first novel, this is also a first person account of Scout's (Jean Louise) recall of the years that led to the ending of a mystery, the breaking of her brother Jem's elbow, the death of her father's enemy — and the close of childhood years. A widower, Atticus raises his children with legal dispassion and paternal intelligence, and is ably abetted by Calpurnia, the colored cook, while the Alabama town of Maycomb, in the 1930's, remains aloof to their divergence from its tribal patterns. Scout and Jem, with their summer-time companion, Dill, find their paths free from interference — but not from dangers; their curiosity about the imprisoned Boo, whose miserable past is incorporated in their play, results in a tentative friendliness; their fears of Atticus' lack of distinction is dissipated when he shoots a mad dog; his defense of a Negro accused of raping a white girl, Mayella Ewell, is followed with avid interest and turns the rabble whites against him. Scout is the means of averting an attack on Atticus but when he loses the case it is Boo who saves Jem and Scout by killing Mayella's father when he attempts to murder them. The shadows of a beginning for black-white understanding, the persistent fight that Scout carries on against school, Jem's emergence into adulthood, Calpurnia's quiet power, and all the incidents touching on the children's "growing outward" have an attractive starchiness that keeps this southern picture pert and provocative. There is much advance interest in this book; it has been selected by the Literary Guild and Reader's Digest; it should win many friends.
Pub Date: July 11, 1960
ISBN: 0060935464
Page Count: 323
Publisher: Lippincott
Review Posted Online: Oct. 7, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 1960
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
SEEN & HEARD
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