I’d just started reading Adam Rex’s latest novel for kids (I finished the prologue and was a page into Chapter 1) when my wife Robyn snagged the book from me. Having watched the videos (here and here) for Chloe and the Lion, she’s developed a bit of a crush on Adam Rex. (Fortunately for me, he lives in Tuscon.) Anyway, Robyn is one of the few people I know who reads faster than me, and she polished off Cold Cereal in a couple of days, and loved it so much she wrote her own review of it. Here it is:

It was a ritual that started as long ago as I can remember, and didn’t end until I was old enough to drive a pickup truck and my Dad recruited me out to help with the farm chores. No matter that our set only got one channel (two during electrical storms) – my pattern was set. On Saturday morning I would get out of bed, grab a box of breakfast cereal from the kitchen, and plop in front of the television to munch and watch a few hours of cartoons.

If you’re like me, you probably grew up not just eating that cereal, but watching the mighty feats of Tony the Tiger, the always-foiled antics of the Trix Rabbit, and the magical mischief of Lucky the Leprechaun in between episodes of Care Bears and Looney Tunes. If you’re like me, your breakfast cereal involvement ended there.

If you’re like Adam Rex, though, you started to wonder if those mascots were really fantastical creatures from an alternate universe, and whether the cereal company was a cult-like underground organization hiding a massive, awful secret.

That’s the plot of Cold Cereal, Rex’s new middle-grade novel and the first of a planned trilogy. A sixth-grader named Scottish Play Doe (Scott for short) isn’t too thrilled when his physicist mom moves him and his sister Polly to Goodborough, New Jersey, where she’s taken a job with Goodco Cereal Company (motto: “A little magic in every box!”). Scott befriends Erno and Emily, a pair of mismatched whiz-kid twins whose foster dad is fond of setting them increasingly difficult puzzles, and as secrets are revealed and danger abounds, the three students must rely on their wits and one another to survive.

Rex does a masterful job weaving together magic, fantasy, crime, mystery, breakfast cereal, time-travel, and the confusion of being a twelve-year-old new kid in a strange town. What I loved most was Scott’s voice, chock-full of the sarcasm, skepticism, and snark that a bright adolescent feels when he starts to encounter the idiocies of the grown-up world. This is not a sentimental book made for Important Lessons and an after-school special. It’s pure magical adventure.

I was looking forward to finally getting Cold Cereal back in my own hands — I can’t tell you how many times I heard my wife laughing out loud while she was reading it — and it was a blast. Aside from the weird cereal-mascot plot Robyn already mentioned, Rex does some great stuff with Arthurian legends and the Fay, and much of it is entirely unpredictable, even with the little hints you get here and there.

The book is certainly the set up for a longer story, so the end doesn’t feel like a conclusion so much as a pause for a commercial break. I’ll definitely be keeping an eye out for the rest of the trilogy.

Cold Cereal was published in February, and is recommended for middle grade readers (about 8 to 12).

Wired: Magical breakfast cereal with free snark included! Fabulous, funny fantasy-action story.

Tired: You may need to limit your wife’s exposure to Adam Rex if you live near Tuscon. You’ll wish Book 2 were already available.

Disclosure: GeekDad received a reader copy for review purposes.

I’m not much for paranormal fiction (except, I suppose, zombies). I never read a lot of vampire fiction — be it Anne Rice or Stephenie Meyer — and so I’ve largely avoided the various books about other things that go bump in the night. But in the past few months I was sent a couple of books about werewolves, and I thought it might be fun to read them all in a batch and see how they compare. These three are very different books, not at all aimed at the same target audience, so it’s interesting to see how each author decided to handle the werewolf mythos. The Pack is pulpy adult horror fiction; Wereworld is middle grade fantasy; The Last Werewolf is adult literary fiction. (I’ve saved the best for last.)

U.K. Cover

The Pack by Jason Starr

The Pack is from Berkley UK, Penguin’s new sci-fi/fantasy imprint. While I’m all for more sci-fi and fantasy, I’ll tell you right up front: I don’t know that I can really recommend this book. But I’ll tell you what sparked my interest in the book, what irritated me about it, and you can decide for yourself. [Note: This review contains spoilers.]

So here’s the premise: Simon Burns, New York City ad executive, gets fired from his job, and ends up taking on a stay-at-home dad role for a while. He runs into a couple other guys when he takes his three-year-old to the playground, and feels that there’s something different about them. But then a guys’ night out goes gets way out of hand, and things start changing in Simon’s world.

All right: that’s pretty much what I knew going into the book. Between the back cover and the publicity info (and the title), you can pretty much guess that it’s a werewolf book. I was curious about how much the stay-at-home dad role played into the book, and I admit I was curious about the werewolves-in-NYC idea. Well, most of the first chapter is about Simon going to work, expecting a big promotion … and then getting fired. It’s a surprise to nobody but him, because you knew going into the book that he’s going to be a stay-at-home dad. And maybe it’s because I’m not in the cutthroat world of advertising, or maybe because I already knew the outcome, but the office politics scenes just kinda fell flat.

So, then Simon and his wife Alison have a long discussion, and they decide to fire their nanny and have Simon stay at home for a while. The next scene is like something from Mr. Mom: his son Jeremy has a major meltdown when he discovers his beloved nanny isn’t coming back; and then he throws a fit on the way to the park, at the park, while leaving the park; Jeremy has to go poop but the bathroom at the pizza place is out of order — and wouldn’t you know it, Simon is on foot and doesn’t have a change of clothes. Oh, and then of course Simon sticks his kid in front of the TV for hours, and his wife comes home to a messy apartment and no dinner.

Fast forward: Simon meets these new guys, who are all really buff, surprisingly fast, and seem to be able to hear and smell really well. (One of them notices his son needs a diaper change from across the playground.) He joins them for a night out, and wakes up naked in a forest in New Jersey … oh, and his jerk boss that fired him turns up dead in a neighboring town, apparently mauled by a wolf. Hmmmm.

U.S. cover

Meanwhile, there’s a subplot about Olivia, a thirty-something single woman who decides to take a wild chance and goes home with this mysterious guy, Michael, she meets at a bar. There’s just something about him that she can’t resist: the way he bosses her around, is physically rough, and then dismisses her when he’s had enough for the night. Yeah, it sounds like a totally abusive relationship (even to Olivia’s friend) and she just can’t get enough of it. And this Michael guy? Guess what: he’s the leader of this pack of dads.

You can kind of see where this is going. But Simon can’t. In fact, despite the fact that between his story and Olivia’s you know that Michael is a werewolf, that fact isn’t really revealed until about three quarters of the way into the book, as if it’s this big surprise. Surprise! And you get people in the book who, despite being told that somebody is a werewolf, despite watching somebody change into a wolf right in front of them, dismiss the idea and go on living their oblivious lives.

The book is sort of a male power fantasy — like a trashy romance novel for guys, and not in a healthy way. It’s about women who complain about not having enough sex, and a change that makes Simon and the others strong and fast and virile (and hairy). Suddenly he has friends, he can satisfy his wife, and he goes from being a vegetarian to wanting meat all the time. Oh, and he’s suspected of murder, so there’s that.

Having just come from reading the beautifully-written Angelmaker, it was a pretty rough transition to The Pack, which relies on cliched dialogue and stereotypical husband-and-wife dynamics. While I thought the idea of a New Yorker stay-at-home dad werewolf was a fascinating premise, the execution really didn’t live up to it. I know that Jason Starr has a sequel coming out soon, but in my opinion this is one pack I have no desire to join.

Wereworld: Rise of the Wolf by Curtis Jobling

Now here’s a werewolf book with a curious pedigree. Though you may not have heard the name Curtis Jobling before, you’re probably familiar with one of his projects: Bob the Builder. Yep, Jobling is the designer of the TV show, and has also worked on puppet painting for Mars Attack and A Close Shave. But apparently, aside from teaching kids conflict resolution and cooperation, Jobling has a thing for middle-grade fantasy fiction. Can he write it? Yes, he can!

Ok, sorry. That’s the last of the Bob the Builder jokes, I promise.

[Note: some minor spoilers ahead.]

Wereworld: Rise of the Wolf is set in the kingdom of Lyssia, a land where there are were-beasts of all sorts: wolves, bears, lions, foxes, snakes, and so on. The therianthropes, as they are known, are also the ruling class of Lyssia: only noble blood has the ability to shape shift.

Drew is a poor farm kid living near a remote seaside village, and he knows little of this history. But one night, a vicious beast breaks into his house and kills his mother — and Drew himself changes uncontrollably into a wolf himself. When his father returns, finding Drew bent over the dead mother, he is convinced Drew is the killer and attacks, forcing Drew to flee into the woods.

Eventually, of course, Drew learns more about his own nature — for one, that the farmer and his wife weren’t his real parents. The kingdom of Lyssia, under the rule of King Leopold (the lion), is suffering, and everyone suspects that Drew is the fulfillment of a prophecy: a warrior hero who will free them from Leopold’s brutal reign. But Drew isn’t so sure: he’s just a kid, not a leader, and he just wants to get away.

Jobling did a good job of setting up the world, and the idea of were-beasts as rulers is one I hadn’t seen before. As with The Pack, these were-beasts don’t change with the moon, but can release the creature within in times of strong emotion. Drew, being a wolf, does have a particular attraction to the full moon, but it’s not necessary for his transformation.

The writing is a little awkward in places — not terrible, but not thrilling, either. It falls pretty squarely in the realm of middle-grade fiction that is fun to read for the action and plot, but not for its high literary merit. It does take a little time for Drew to finally transform for the first time, which really sets the story going, so the first chapter is a bit slow, but once it gets going there’s plenty of action and drama. The story so far does follow the traditional “hero’s journey”: an ordinary kid discovers he is, in fact, not ordinary; he loses his family (through death and exile); he learns more about his own abilities. There’s the expected dramatic showdown between Drew — a noble with a heart for the people — and King Leopold the tyrant, and while the story does end on a happy note, it’s definitely setting up for further conflicts in the next book.

There are three Wereworld books already out in the UK, though book two, Rage of Lions, is just coming to the US in June. If you’ve got kids who are into fantasy, have them give Wereworld a go. It’s a good mix of the traditional pre-industrial society with shape-shifters, and looks like it could be the start of a very fun ride.

The Last Werewolf by Glen Duncan

Okay, so here’s the werewolf book written for literature snobs (like me). You know you’re not reading a light novel when the word ontological appears on the first page, non-ironically. The Last Werewolf is like that. (There’s even a soundtrack!)

Of the three werewolf books here, this one is the closest to the traditional mythos: werewolves change at the full moon, and getting bitten by a werewolf is what turns you into one — as long as you don’t die. You have to use silver to kill them, whether it’s a bullet or a blade. There are vampires in this book, too — somewhat traditional as well: immortal, wooden stake through the heart, some of them can fly, sunlight can kill them.

Jacobe Marlowe is somewhere around 200 years old — although werewolves aren’t immortal, they do live for a very long time, and look pretty much the way they do when they were turned. And, as the title suggests, he’s the last one. When the book opens his friend Harley is informing him that the only other known werewolf has just been killed — and this leads to some existential angst on Jake’s part. He’s been around long enough that he’s just not really interested anymore. He’s pretty much ready to just wait until the next full moon and let WOCOP (World Organisation for the Control of Occult Phenomena) hunt him down and put him out of his ennui.

The reason there are so few left is that, for a while now, nobody has been surviving werewolf bites, so there haven’t been any new ones. Also, there’s the problem that there aren’t any female werewolves. Harley, an old man by now, has been Jake’s cover for much of his life: he serves as Jake’s mole in WOCOP, and arranges false identities and convoluted trip itineraries to keep Jake hidden. After all, if you change once a month and have to eat humans each time you do, that’s a lot of dead bodies to cover up.

The Last Werewolf is a bizarre hybrid: yes, it’s paranormal horror fiction. There are werewolves and vampires, violence and gore and sex. (Definitely not for kids.) But it’s also highbrow literary fiction: Duncan’s a masterful writer who can weave a tapestry of words when the need arises, and then pierce it with the crudest language. Although it’s a fantasy, you find yourself really drawn into the “reality” of Jake’s situation — the logistics of being a werewolf for so long, the weariness of continuing to run and hide from the Hunt. The literary allusions he makes are numerous and wide-reaching, and I’m sure I missed many of them. Jake’s sense of humor is understated and very British, and as he narrates the book (this is purportedly his memoir) you really get to know him well, warts and all.

There are, of course, twists. It wouldn’t be an interesting book if Jake rolled over and died at the next full moon, would it? But I’ll let you discover that for yourself. Ultimately, it wasn’t just the plot that held my attention (though you will want to know what happens next) but Jake’s voice and the way he tells the story.

As bizarre as it seems, I find myself recommending a werewolf book. I’d been told that The Last Werewolf wasn’t a typical werewolf book, and it sat on the shelf for over a year before I finally picked it up and started reading it (enough time that it’s now out in paperback). I really should have listened sooner.

Note: Post updated to include the UK cover of The Pack.

Disclosure: GeekDad received review copies of these books.

Mary Shelley and Ada Byron from Wollstonecraft

As a father, one of my goals is to pass on my love of reading to my kids. I don’t always care if they have all the same interests I do, but books are a huge part of my life and I want them to share the wonder of a good story. That’s why my wife and I read aloud to them every night, why we surround ourselves with books, why I sometimes let my eight-year-old get away with reading at the dining table (as long as she’s not spilling food on my books).

And as the father of two girls, I particularly want to ensure that my daughters have books that feature great female characters. I’ll readily admit that I didn’t pay much attention to that when I was a kid — I read voraciously, but I know that many of the characters I grew up reading about were boys: James (of the giant peach), Milo (and his phantom tollbooth), Charlie (and the chocolate factory). But there are, in fact, plenty of fantastic, strong female characters these days, as I pointed out in my (non-comprehensive) list of Stories About Girls last year.

Here are two more girls to add to that list: Mary Shelley and Ada Byron.

Wait, you say, aren’t those real people? Well, yes. Mary Shelley, the author of Frankenstein, and Ada Byron, the world’s first computer programmer, were very real people. Author Jordan Stratford has taken them and put them into a fictional story about the two of them forming a detective agency as young girls. It’s a “pro-math, pro-science, pro-history and pro-literature adventure novel for and about girls.” Sounds full of win to me!

The planned series of books has Mary and Ada encountering real historical figures that the two women actually knew (Percy Shelley, Charles Babbage, Michael Faraday, and Charles Dickens) and it’s all wrapped up in a steampunk theme, for middle grade readers. Stratford is running a Kickstarter campaign to raise funding for the books (there are four already planned) and it’s clear from the pledges that people are excited about the idea — he’s blown past his goal of $4,000 and is well on the way to a stretch goal of $70,000, at which point he’ll write a teacher’s guide for the first three books and make it available for free.

Check out the Kickstarter page for more info, and be sure to watch the video! The funding ends April 30.

I’m sure you’ve seen the movie. A mouse of a boy runs down an indifferent city street, three larger boys in pursuit. They had recently tossed him into a dumpster because he had no lunch money to give them and after he climbed out covered in garbage, they are trying to catch him to toss him back in. To escape his tormentors he ducks into a dusty old book store, great ratty-edged tomes scattered around, the shop owner sitting in a tall backed leather chair with a large book in his hands. The boy, an avid reader, asks the shopkeeper what book he is reading. The old man does not answer, instead he cryptically warns the young boy to stay away from the book as it is not “safe” as the other books he has read are.

When his phone rings the old man gets up to answer, setting the book down. The young boy, Bastian, sneaks a peek at the “unsafe” book. He sees a plain brown cover with only two distinguishing features. One is a medallion of sorts, two intertwined snakes, and the name of the book stamped in gold lettering at the bottom. The Neverending Story. Bastian cannot resist the temptation. He grabs the book, leaving the shopkeeper a note promising to return it, and takes off. The old man smiles knowingly when the shop door slams and he sees that his book has been borrowed.

Bastian makes it to school to find out that he is very late and that the day has already begun. Instead of entering the classroom and taking a late slip, he runs up into the attic of the old school, a forest of cobweb covered bric-a-brac, most of which looks like it would be more at home in the attic of a haunted Victorian mansion than the attic of a public school. Bastian settles in and begins to read this “unsafe” book and soon finds out why the old man gave it such a descriptor. He finds himself becoming a part of the story. Not in a metaphorical way. In a very real way it falls to Bastian to save not only the characters living their lives between the pages of  The Neverending Story, but he discovers that he himself is a part of the tale, the only one with the power to save story itself from the destructive forces of The Nothing, the emptiness that is consuming fantasy because mankind has been losing their hopes and dreams.

The Neverending Story made a huge impression on me when I first saw it and not just because I was about Bastian’s age when the movie was released. In a lot of ways I was Bastian. I recall days when I faked an illness so I could stay home and finish a book. When I was in seventh grade, instead of walking to my bus stop as usually required to do, I walked right past it and up to the Thriftway right near my house (where I would later work for one torturous summer) and found shelter in a copse of trees behind the store. I spent two days there, engrossed in Robert R. McCammon’s Swan Song, sitting in the crook of a tree, lost in the story. I returned home each day at my normal time, complete with faked homework assignments and fictionalized accounts of a successful day at school. To my knowledge that literary tryst has remained secret from my parents until this moment. Sorry mom and dad (but not really as that is an excellent book). I was never chased by bullies demanding my lunch money and exchanging it for shame and ridicule, but a part of me did, in fact still does, relate very strongly to Bastian.

I have always loved to engage in story. The vehicle I take to get there does not matter. Be it reading or be it writing, it is not the destination as the old cliche goes, it is very much the journey. When I saw the picture posted above over at The Lit Express I just had to steal, I mean borrow, it. It put me in mind of The Neverending Story almost immediately. The boy, standing on the stack of books, the books giving him the physical lift he needs, looking over a drab wall full of graffiti at a world full of wonder. This is what fiction is for me. Not simply an escape form the real world, but a step up to live, for however short a time, in a world where the only limit to what can occur is the author’s own imagination.

There will always be a part of me that will yearn for the special magic of  books and story to not only lift me up above the wall of reality to view those amazing fictional worlds, but to slingshot me clear over, to land me right into the heart of a world my feet have never touched and my hands have never explored.. But until the day when I happen into an old used book store (hopefully not gasping for breath after a footrace from bullies) and find my own wizened shopkeeper with an “unsafe” book in his hands, I will continue to find my way there in my mind. I will let the author’s words be that special magic and my own imagination the vehicle.

I have to go. I just heard a thunderous crash from behind that wall. Time to pick up my book, take a climb up on the stack, and see what it was.

Should this be the time I do not return, keep reading.

And keep dreaming.