Into the Dark by Peter Abrahams (HarperCollins, 2008.)
In this, book three of the series, Ingrid is performing in the community theater's production of Hansel and Gretel. Meanwhile, her grandpa is arguing about his property with a guy from the Department of Conservation. (Grandpa is an environmentalist, but he believes the department to be meddlers.)
When Ingrid stumbles upon the conservationalist's dead body during a hike with her boyfriend Joey, all heck breaks loose. Grandpa is accused of the crime. He refuses to give himself an alibi, for reasons related to a doctor's appointment. Joey's father has instructed his son not to talk to Ingrid because of a conflict of interest (he is the detective working the case.) And soon, another bombshell is dropped on the family. Ingrid's dad is having an affair with Ingrid's friend's mom!
The story doesn't get all "poor Ingrid-y" though. Our heroine pushes forward and solves the crime on her own--without revealing grandpa's medical secret.
Love this series. Love. Was a little taken aback by the affair. I tried to think of the age at which I knew about affairs. I think it was fifth grade. That is probably the age this series is for (5th-8th.) (And kids are probably more socially savvy today than I was in the 80s.) It did make me think twice about loaning this book to my fourth grade niece. I would probably recommend the first two in the series instead. Not that I don't think she should read it (I would let my third grade son read it, if he could get over the female protagonist thing) but her not being my own child, well, you know.
As I read this, I realized how great Abrahams is at giving you a window on his characters. He never forces them on you. He lets you get to know them and make your own judgements. Ingrid's dad, for instance, has always been kind of a slick guy. Ingrid likes him. He's not my kind of person, probably because my dad is the opposite of him, but I do enjoy him as a character, and I can see why Ingrid adores him. He's always seemed like a standup guy, so the affair kind of floored me. Okay, so this is how real the characters are. Even one I don't particularly love, I feel utterly betrayed by him, for Ingrid's sake.
It reminds me of something my friend told me. He was a Hallmark illustrator. There, he had to draw characters who made an instant connection with the card buyer. They were posing for the camera, reaching out a hand to greet the buyer, asking the buyer to like them. When my friend switched to children's book illustrating, editors told him he had to learn to paint "candid shots" of his characters. They should be going about their business. The reader is looking in on them unbeknownst to them. Abrahams made me realize that writers have to do this, too. He does it just brilliantly.
Also, he briliantly draws one of the villains of this story in the likeness of the witch in Hansel and Gretel. How he does this without going over the top is beyond me. It should be over the top. I mean, the villain wears pointy boots, for Lord's sake. But it isn't. It feels real. Maybe this works because kids are open to the fact that some people are over-the-top evil. Grownups think bad guys need a psychiatrist. But kids know some people are just bad--by the book bad. That's how Ingrid sees this villain and it feels very real.
Interestingly, the part of Hansel and Gretel that Ingrid's mother remarks at the beginning always seemed unreal--that parents would leave their children to starve in the woods--is kind of explained here. It's not that Ingrid's parents want her to meet a witch in the woods. But Ingrid--because of her family falling apart--has to take matters into her own hands. Does that mean her parents are culpable for the danger that befalls her, or simply that we all have to do our part for our families--no matter our age? I think it's the latter. Incidentally, her dad comes to the rescue at the end--which I thought was an appropriate ending. After all, kids--no matter how smart or tough--need their parents--even when they're flawed.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler
From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, by E.L. Konigsburg, (Atheneum, 1967.)
Claudia and her brother Jamie run away to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. While there a statue arrives titled "Angel." Is it by Michealangelo? Or is it a fake? The story is narrated by Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, as a letter to her attorney (who she calls boring--all he ever talks about is his grandchildren.) "Angel" had belonged to her; she let it get away for a song.
Frankweiler is about as enjoyable narrator as you can ask for--pragmatic, judgemental, and wise (but not in a sappy way.) And Claudia is as serious as she is funny (to readers.) For settings, you can't beat two kids living in a museum--or the disorganized offices of Mrs. Frankweiler.
In the end, you find out who the attorney is in relation to the story (if you hadn't already guessed from the beginning.) The whole thing is just nicely done. It's obvious why it won the Newbury. The only thing I would have wished for, in my own little perfect angel statue world, is that we could have seen Mrs. Frankweiler spend more time with the kids. This whole episode is just priceless. But maybe extending it would have ruined it. Like telling a secret ruins it (as Claudia comes to understand.)
Claudia and her brother Jamie run away to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. While there a statue arrives titled "Angel." Is it by Michealangelo? Or is it a fake? The story is narrated by Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, as a letter to her attorney (who she calls boring--all he ever talks about is his grandchildren.) "Angel" had belonged to her; she let it get away for a song.
Frankweiler is about as enjoyable narrator as you can ask for--pragmatic, judgemental, and wise (but not in a sappy way.) And Claudia is as serious as she is funny (to readers.) For settings, you can't beat two kids living in a museum--or the disorganized offices of Mrs. Frankweiler.
In the end, you find out who the attorney is in relation to the story (if you hadn't already guessed from the beginning.) The whole thing is just nicely done. It's obvious why it won the Newbury. The only thing I would have wished for, in my own little perfect angel statue world, is that we could have seen Mrs. Frankweiler spend more time with the kids. This whole episode is just priceless. But maybe extending it would have ruined it. Like telling a secret ruins it (as Claudia comes to understand.)
Eleven
Eleven, by Patricia Reilly Giff (Yearling, 2008.)
Eleven-year-old Sam finds a newspaper clipping in his attic indicating that, as a child, he had gone missing. Is his grandfather, who raises him, really his grandfather, or did he kidnap him?
As a struggling reader, Sam seeks help from a new girl at school to read the newspaper clipping. Together, they also make a castle for their class unit on the Middle Ages. As the project unfolds, Sam realizes that the castle is something from Sam's memory.
I loved the concept of this book, and some of the mysterious elements. Why is Sam's grandfather afraid of water? Why does Sam remember a castle? Why was Sam missing? Sam's grandfather is a nice man, so it is pretty clear from the beginning that he must have rescued Sam from something--but from what?
I also liked Sam's character. I liked his voice, and I felt like I got to know him. I didn't feel the same way about Caroline, who never felt real to me. I also felt like some of the grownup characters could have been cut from the story. I guess I got the feeling that Caroline and these "extra characters" were jumping out at me saying, "We're good. We'll help Sam." But I wanted to say, "Be cool! Stop trying so hard! Let me decide for myself how I feel about you." That's probably not a good description, but that's how I felt.
In the end, I never got wrapped up in Sam's world, even though I wanted to. However, I did like the mysterious elements of the book, and I think I would like other books by Giff, who is a two-time Newbery Honor-winning author.
Eleven-year-old Sam finds a newspaper clipping in his attic indicating that, as a child, he had gone missing. Is his grandfather, who raises him, really his grandfather, or did he kidnap him?
As a struggling reader, Sam seeks help from a new girl at school to read the newspaper clipping. Together, they also make a castle for their class unit on the Middle Ages. As the project unfolds, Sam realizes that the castle is something from Sam's memory.
I loved the concept of this book, and some of the mysterious elements. Why is Sam's grandfather afraid of water? Why does Sam remember a castle? Why was Sam missing? Sam's grandfather is a nice man, so it is pretty clear from the beginning that he must have rescued Sam from something--but from what?
I also liked Sam's character. I liked his voice, and I felt like I got to know him. I didn't feel the same way about Caroline, who never felt real to me. I also felt like some of the grownup characters could have been cut from the story. I guess I got the feeling that Caroline and these "extra characters" were jumping out at me saying, "We're good. We'll help Sam." But I wanted to say, "Be cool! Stop trying so hard! Let me decide for myself how I feel about you." That's probably not a good description, but that's how I felt.
In the end, I never got wrapped up in Sam's world, even though I wanted to. However, I did like the mysterious elements of the book, and I think I would like other books by Giff, who is a two-time Newbery Honor-winning author.
The Hidden Staircase
Nancy helps a friend's older relative, who believes her home is haunted. As I said in my previous review, I'm not a Nancy Drew person. I love bestsellers. I love cultural phenomenons. I love mysteries. I love girl detectives. I love girls who have everything going for them. I just don't like these books. Like my friend who wishes she liked tomatos so she could grow them in her garden and pick a ripe one off the vine and slice it and eat it, (I find it hilarious that she wants to do all this given the fact that she does not, in fact, like tomatos,) I wish I liked these books. I don't. Thus concludes the worst review ever written.
The Secret of the Old Clock
Nancy Drew sees a little girl nearly get hit by a car. Checking to see if she is okay, Nancy meets the girl's aunts. She soon learns that they have little money to care for the child. They had expected a relative to remember them in his will, but as it turns out, he left all his money to the relatives he lived with. Nancy knows this family, which is both snooty and tacky. All they talk about is money. Nancy gets the chance to talk to other relatives and friends of the man, who also expected him to leave them money.
Nancy, with the help of her lawyer father, gets to the bottom of why the man's will ended up so differently than his friend's expectations. As it turns out, there was a later will.
I remember reading a couple Nancy Drew books as a kid. I remember grownups being happy about me reading them. That made me happy. But the truth was, I had a hard time focusing on the books. I think, looking back, that it was because I didn't like them. Lots of people obviously do like them--they've sold millions of copies. They just aren't my style.
I love to fall in love with a character, and I just don't feel like I know Nancy well enough to feel anything about her. She seems nice enough, and she's certainly smart and capable--I like that in a character. She's popular and pretty--I like that, too. You rarely get an alpha character in a book, and it's refreshing. I guess it's just that I don't hear her voice. She's like the lady you see at school events and think you might become friends with, but she never talks turkey--never offers even one morsel about how she feels about things--not even a joke, so eventually, you just give up.
I do like how the book paints the scenes of the era: the aunts raising the little girl, two other sisters living in the country together. T.V. doesn't seem to be a factor in anyone's lives. There are daily family breakfasts and tea times and maids. That part is enjoyable. But finishing the book (and The Hidden Staircase) was a chore.
In contrast, I watched Nancy Drew the movie last night and loved it. The character was equally as smart, capable, and popular (in her home town at least.) But in this movie, in which she visits Hollywood with her father, those qualities make her vulnerable. Mean girls make fun of her old fashioned ways (the movie is set in the present; Nancy is a bit stuck in the past.)
The role is acted brilliantly by Emma Roberts, who makes you just ache for Nancy at times. I can watch sincerity get made fun of. I don't like it, but I know that sincere people are usually positive and can withstand bumps in the rode. But I will not watch earnest people take a hit. It is just too hard. They are earnest because they take things seriously, and that includes what people say to them. Nancy, in this movie, is earnest. Rest assured that she gets her come-uppance by showing what an amazing detective and all-round person she is.
So the movie worked for me while the books don't. Was it Nancy's vulnerability in the face of mean girls? The conflict (her dad asked her not to sleuth in Hollywood)? Her youth (she was younger in the movie than she was portrayed in the books)? The slightly tongue in cheek depiction of Nancy Drew? I think it was Nancy. In the movie she seemed like a real person. In the books, for me at least, she never did.
Nancy, with the help of her lawyer father, gets to the bottom of why the man's will ended up so differently than his friend's expectations. As it turns out, there was a later will.
I remember reading a couple Nancy Drew books as a kid. I remember grownups being happy about me reading them. That made me happy. But the truth was, I had a hard time focusing on the books. I think, looking back, that it was because I didn't like them. Lots of people obviously do like them--they've sold millions of copies. They just aren't my style.
I love to fall in love with a character, and I just don't feel like I know Nancy well enough to feel anything about her. She seems nice enough, and she's certainly smart and capable--I like that in a character. She's popular and pretty--I like that, too. You rarely get an alpha character in a book, and it's refreshing. I guess it's just that I don't hear her voice. She's like the lady you see at school events and think you might become friends with, but she never talks turkey--never offers even one morsel about how she feels about things--not even a joke, so eventually, you just give up.
I do like how the book paints the scenes of the era: the aunts raising the little girl, two other sisters living in the country together. T.V. doesn't seem to be a factor in anyone's lives. There are daily family breakfasts and tea times and maids. That part is enjoyable. But finishing the book (and The Hidden Staircase) was a chore.
In contrast, I watched Nancy Drew the movie last night and loved it. The character was equally as smart, capable, and popular (in her home town at least.) But in this movie, in which she visits Hollywood with her father, those qualities make her vulnerable. Mean girls make fun of her old fashioned ways (the movie is set in the present; Nancy is a bit stuck in the past.)
The role is acted brilliantly by Emma Roberts, who makes you just ache for Nancy at times. I can watch sincerity get made fun of. I don't like it, but I know that sincere people are usually positive and can withstand bumps in the rode. But I will not watch earnest people take a hit. It is just too hard. They are earnest because they take things seriously, and that includes what people say to them. Nancy, in this movie, is earnest. Rest assured that she gets her come-uppance by showing what an amazing detective and all-round person she is.
So the movie worked for me while the books don't. Was it Nancy's vulnerability in the face of mean girls? The conflict (her dad asked her not to sleuth in Hollywood)? Her youth (she was younger in the movie than she was portrayed in the books)? The slightly tongue in cheek depiction of Nancy Drew? I think it was Nancy. In the movie she seemed like a real person. In the books, for me at least, she never did.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Down the Rabbit Hole
Down the Rabbit Hole by Peter Abrahams. (HarperCollins, 2005) First in the Echo Falls Mystery Series.
Ingrid gets a little turned around on her way to soccer practice and encounters Cracked-up Katie, a lady in town who has the reputation of being crazy. Katie calls her a cab, and Ingrid makes it to soccer practice. She doesn't tell her mother of her adventure, lest she get in trouble. That's fine until, the next day, a story in the local paper says that Katie was murdered. Besides feeling sad for Katie, Ingrid realizes she left her red puma cleats at Katie's house.
For various believable reasons, Ingrid doesn't come clean to her parents or anybody else about having seen Katie the day of the murder, but instead tries to solve the mystery on her own. In this way, she digs herself into deeper trouble...and deeper danger. She's aware of the trouble, but a little oblivious to the danger, which is in keeping with her character.
How would I describe Ingrid? She's funny. Smart. Wily. But a little--not airheaded, exactly. I'll say this: her brain needs to go on little excursions to find wherever it's going. She is one of my favorite characters ever. It goes Huck. Scout. Ingrid. Maybe Huck. Ingrid. Scout. No. Ingrid. Huck. Scout.
While Ingrid solves the mystery, she is involved with the community theater production of Alice in Wonderland. My experience with Alice is limited to the Disney movie and my eighth grade play, for which I can't even remember my role. But Abrahams makes it easy to draw connections to Alice because Ingrid, herself, draws these connections. (For instance, Cracked-up Katie's grandmother reminds Ingrid of the Queen of Hearts.) And even an Alice dummy like me can see that Katie is falling--no marching--deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole as she attempts to crack the case of Katie (who, like Ingrid, was an actress in the local theater.)
There are also references to Sherlock Holmes and old movies. Sherlock Holmes: again I'm a dummy, having only read The Red-Headed League. Now, old movies are something I'm more familiar with--or at least I was at Ingrid's age. The villain in this book reminded me of the delicious villains in the mysteries of that era. Meaning: I liked him. He was creepy in the smoothest possible way. The climax was also very movie-esque. My stomach was in knots. I kept reminding myself that they never kill the detective...and certainly not the child detective in a children's book! Did Nancy Drew die? No, she lived on to sport every hair cliche known to womankind.
The primary way the ending resembled a movie ending is that Ingrid followed the danger. The danger didn't follow her. In the other children's mysteries I've read, the children start out investigating, but typically, when they get to the point of no return, the villain sets the trap for them. That happens in this story, too, but then Abrahams pulls back and lets Ingrid head for the villain's lair. It was a "Good Lord! Don't go see what that noise is!" moment.
There is much more going on in this story: A mother and father trying to put together a real estate deal that involves selling off Ingrid's grandfather's land to the town rich people. (A story that dovetails into cracked-up Katie's murder.) A big brother who punches her. For shame. I know. I can't get through a review without saying something self-righteous. But seriously. For shame. And a grandfather who is teaching Ingrid to be stone cold. A skill that comes in handy at the end of this mystery.
The cover of this mystery has a quote from Stephen King: "My all-time favorite. Astonishing." I sort of ignored this because J.K. Rowling had a quote about the Cirque du Freak series, which I hated. The main character in that book inexplicably steals a spider and then almost lets his best friend die of a poisonous bite rather than coming clean. Ingrid keeps secrets, too, but she is trying to help the late Cracked-up Katie--not turn her back on her. And she barely knows the poor lady.
I don't know why I'm comparing the two, except to say that I don't expect great authors to also be great at picking great books. But in this case, I agree word-for-word with Stephen King. I, too, thought this was my all-time favorite. Astonishing.
After reading it, I logged onto my public library account, which is my rabbit hole. I checked out all Echo Falls mysteries, plus Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, plus several Sherlock Holmes Mysteries. But before doing any of this, my first order of business was to convince my 9-year-old son to read Down the Rabbit Hole.
I don't typically tell my son what to read. He likes to choose his own books, or talk things over with his librarian. I don't interject myself into sports conversations between him and his barber, and the same goes for book talk with him and his librarian. But I made an exception here. "Really," I said. "You have to read this. It's kind of scary, though." I think that hooked him. He wanted to start it last night. But I was like, "Um, I'm still reading it." And the hook pulled tighter.
He's starting it today. Can't wait to see what he thinks.
How the parents were cut out of the picture: Ingrid cuts school and sneaks out at night to solve the crime. (They live in a big house, so I guess her parents can't hear her.)
The verdict: Like experiencing an old movie, Alice in Wonderland, Sherlock Holmes, and the best character ever for the first time.
Ingrid gets a little turned around on her way to soccer practice and encounters Cracked-up Katie, a lady in town who has the reputation of being crazy. Katie calls her a cab, and Ingrid makes it to soccer practice. She doesn't tell her mother of her adventure, lest she get in trouble. That's fine until, the next day, a story in the local paper says that Katie was murdered. Besides feeling sad for Katie, Ingrid realizes she left her red puma cleats at Katie's house.
For various believable reasons, Ingrid doesn't come clean to her parents or anybody else about having seen Katie the day of the murder, but instead tries to solve the mystery on her own. In this way, she digs herself into deeper trouble...and deeper danger. She's aware of the trouble, but a little oblivious to the danger, which is in keeping with her character.
How would I describe Ingrid? She's funny. Smart. Wily. But a little--not airheaded, exactly. I'll say this: her brain needs to go on little excursions to find wherever it's going. She is one of my favorite characters ever. It goes Huck. Scout. Ingrid. Maybe Huck. Ingrid. Scout. No. Ingrid. Huck. Scout.
While Ingrid solves the mystery, she is involved with the community theater production of Alice in Wonderland. My experience with Alice is limited to the Disney movie and my eighth grade play, for which I can't even remember my role. But Abrahams makes it easy to draw connections to Alice because Ingrid, herself, draws these connections. (For instance, Cracked-up Katie's grandmother reminds Ingrid of the Queen of Hearts.) And even an Alice dummy like me can see that Katie is falling--no marching--deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole as she attempts to crack the case of Katie (who, like Ingrid, was an actress in the local theater.)
There are also references to Sherlock Holmes and old movies. Sherlock Holmes: again I'm a dummy, having only read The Red-Headed League. Now, old movies are something I'm more familiar with--or at least I was at Ingrid's age. The villain in this book reminded me of the delicious villains in the mysteries of that era. Meaning: I liked him. He was creepy in the smoothest possible way. The climax was also very movie-esque. My stomach was in knots. I kept reminding myself that they never kill the detective...and certainly not the child detective in a children's book! Did Nancy Drew die? No, she lived on to sport every hair cliche known to womankind.
The primary way the ending resembled a movie ending is that Ingrid followed the danger. The danger didn't follow her. In the other children's mysteries I've read, the children start out investigating, but typically, when they get to the point of no return, the villain sets the trap for them. That happens in this story, too, but then Abrahams pulls back and lets Ingrid head for the villain's lair. It was a "Good Lord! Don't go see what that noise is!" moment.
There is much more going on in this story: A mother and father trying to put together a real estate deal that involves selling off Ingrid's grandfather's land to the town rich people. (A story that dovetails into cracked-up Katie's murder.) A big brother who punches her. For shame. I know. I can't get through a review without saying something self-righteous. But seriously. For shame. And a grandfather who is teaching Ingrid to be stone cold. A skill that comes in handy at the end of this mystery.
The cover of this mystery has a quote from Stephen King: "My all-time favorite. Astonishing." I sort of ignored this because J.K. Rowling had a quote about the Cirque du Freak series, which I hated. The main character in that book inexplicably steals a spider and then almost lets his best friend die of a poisonous bite rather than coming clean. Ingrid keeps secrets, too, but she is trying to help the late Cracked-up Katie--not turn her back on her. And she barely knows the poor lady.
I don't know why I'm comparing the two, except to say that I don't expect great authors to also be great at picking great books. But in this case, I agree word-for-word with Stephen King. I, too, thought this was my all-time favorite. Astonishing.
After reading it, I logged onto my public library account, which is my rabbit hole. I checked out all Echo Falls mysteries, plus Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, plus several Sherlock Holmes Mysteries. But before doing any of this, my first order of business was to convince my 9-year-old son to read Down the Rabbit Hole.
I don't typically tell my son what to read. He likes to choose his own books, or talk things over with his librarian. I don't interject myself into sports conversations between him and his barber, and the same goes for book talk with him and his librarian. But I made an exception here. "Really," I said. "You have to read this. It's kind of scary, though." I think that hooked him. He wanted to start it last night. But I was like, "Um, I'm still reading it." And the hook pulled tighter.
He's starting it today. Can't wait to see what he thinks.
How the parents were cut out of the picture: Ingrid cuts school and sneaks out at night to solve the crime. (They live in a big house, so I guess her parents can't hear her.)
The verdict: Like experiencing an old movie, Alice in Wonderland, Sherlock Holmes, and the best character ever for the first time.
Flush
Flush by Carl Hiaassen (2005, Random House) audio performed by Michael Welch (also Random House.)
Noah's father Paine has just sunk the Coral Queen. He suspects the casino is dumping its sewage into the ocean, polluting the local family beach in the Florida Keys. He is right, but he has no proof. He is also in jail for his crime. Now it is up to Noah and his sister Abbey to prove what they--and the readers--already know. I'll call this a Columbo mystery, in honor of my childhood sweetheart, Peter Falk. (My best friend was Angela Lansbury.)
At first, Noah's father is calling the shots. He encourages Noah to pay off Lice Peeking, former mate on the Coral Queen, to testify against Dusty Muleman, owner of the Coral Queen. The plot thickens when Lice disappears, and his girlfriend Shelly suspects he was murdered.
Now, Abbey and Noah take matters into their own hands, with the help of Shelly, a nice lady (and with Pippi Longstocking-like strength) who for one reason or other dates drunk-ass Lice.
I'll take a moment here to say: between Lice and Shelly and Noah's dad, this is how you do "quirky" characters. I put quirky in quotes because I think people who use that term have it backwards. Most people are quirky. Normal people--or those who are able to act normal--are in the minority. A simple trip on the city bus will prove this point, but you can also look at your own family. It's no coincidence that people think their families are crazy. Everybody is crazy. We know our families best, and therefore have confirmation. I think people who write "quirky" characters well understand that there isn't a box for nutties and a box for normal people. It's the same box. It's just that quirky people live outside of it. Hiaasen nails "quirky." Only Noah comes across as completely normal, which makes sense. He's the narrator. It would make sense that he would present himself as the voice of sanity in a sea of craziness. Or maybe he really is normal. Or maybe he is a character in a book and I'm overthinking this.
Anyway, once Paine gets out of jail, he's forced to wear an ankle bracelet monitor and cannot talk about The Coral Queen to the media (which he did freely while in jail.) It's important to Noah and Abbey to show that their dad was right, thus proving to their mother and everybody else that he's not crazy.
Abbey tries to capture evidence on film of the Coral Queen dumping in the water, but the video turns out poorly. So Noah comes up with a plan of his own, which involves Shelly going undercover as a bartender on the Coral Queen. (I told you she's a nice lady.)
There is also a bully (Dusty's son Jasper) and a pirate (who seems to have escaped from a Hardy Boys book.) I think these characters probably resonate with kids, which is good because it is a children's book. The resolution takes a while to unfold, but is satisfactory and gives readers more time to spend with this family, who I came to love both for their imperfections and their ability to work as a team. (I love when kids are treated as part of the team--not as the mascots.)
The verdict: This story was a lot of fun. Well, as fun as a book about water pollution can be, especially at this juncture.
Noah's father Paine has just sunk the Coral Queen. He suspects the casino is dumping its sewage into the ocean, polluting the local family beach in the Florida Keys. He is right, but he has no proof. He is also in jail for his crime. Now it is up to Noah and his sister Abbey to prove what they--and the readers--already know. I'll call this a Columbo mystery, in honor of my childhood sweetheart, Peter Falk. (My best friend was Angela Lansbury.)
At first, Noah's father is calling the shots. He encourages Noah to pay off Lice Peeking, former mate on the Coral Queen, to testify against Dusty Muleman, owner of the Coral Queen. The plot thickens when Lice disappears, and his girlfriend Shelly suspects he was murdered.
Now, Abbey and Noah take matters into their own hands, with the help of Shelly, a nice lady (and with Pippi Longstocking-like strength) who for one reason or other dates drunk-ass Lice.
I'll take a moment here to say: between Lice and Shelly and Noah's dad, this is how you do "quirky" characters. I put quirky in quotes because I think people who use that term have it backwards. Most people are quirky. Normal people--or those who are able to act normal--are in the minority. A simple trip on the city bus will prove this point, but you can also look at your own family. It's no coincidence that people think their families are crazy. Everybody is crazy. We know our families best, and therefore have confirmation. I think people who write "quirky" characters well understand that there isn't a box for nutties and a box for normal people. It's the same box. It's just that quirky people live outside of it. Hiaasen nails "quirky." Only Noah comes across as completely normal, which makes sense. He's the narrator. It would make sense that he would present himself as the voice of sanity in a sea of craziness. Or maybe he really is normal. Or maybe he is a character in a book and I'm overthinking this.
Anyway, once Paine gets out of jail, he's forced to wear an ankle bracelet monitor and cannot talk about The Coral Queen to the media (which he did freely while in jail.) It's important to Noah and Abbey to show that their dad was right, thus proving to their mother and everybody else that he's not crazy.
Abbey tries to capture evidence on film of the Coral Queen dumping in the water, but the video turns out poorly. So Noah comes up with a plan of his own, which involves Shelly going undercover as a bartender on the Coral Queen. (I told you she's a nice lady.)
There is also a bully (Dusty's son Jasper) and a pirate (who seems to have escaped from a Hardy Boys book.) I think these characters probably resonate with kids, which is good because it is a children's book. The resolution takes a while to unfold, but is satisfactory and gives readers more time to spend with this family, who I came to love both for their imperfections and their ability to work as a team. (I love when kids are treated as part of the team--not as the mascots.)
The verdict: This story was a lot of fun. Well, as fun as a book about water pollution can be, especially at this juncture.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
