'Emil and the Three Twins' by Erich Kastner

Emil and the three twins. Three Twins Yes, you read that correctly. Emil Tischbein has another adventure with his old friends the Professor, Gustav and Little Tuesday - this time by the sea. Of course, the detectives couldn't have an ordinary seaside holiday like other people - and when they become entangled with the mystery of the three acrobat twins and the wicked Herr Anders, it looks as if it's going to turn into a most extraordinary time for them all!

MY THOUGHTS:  

This is a quirky plot to match its quirky, self-contradictory title. It's clear this story will be slightly left of field from the moment Kastner gives two illustrated prefaces - one for readers of Emil and the Detectives and the other for fresh readers. He informs us former that Emil is 'still content to be the same excellent young fellow,' hoping to earn enough money so his mother can quit working. But this time, Kastner introduces a spanner in the works.

Sergeant Jeschke, now P.I. Jeschke, asks for Emil's blessing to propose to his mother. The sudden prospect of a new stepfather is a real curveball for Emil, who isn't okay with the idea, but generously hates to make waves. It takes some sage perspective from his wise grandmother for Emil's headspace to catch up with his outer compliance. (I love how she counsels Emil to consider his thumbs-up as an investment into his beloved mother's future, for ten years down the track, Emil may get married, and a young wife plus a middle-aged mother don't mix well beneath the same roof. She says she's tried both positions over the years, and knows. Therefore, holding his peace is essentially an investment into Emil's own future too.)

Meanwhile, Emil, Gustav, little Tuesday and Cousin Pony have all been invited to spend part of their summer holidays at the Professor's parents' beach house. At the seaside town, they come across the Three Byrons, a trio of circus acrobats comprising a father and two sons. The boys decide to make a charitable protest when the rumor reaches them that Dad Byron intends to cast off young Jackie, who is growing far bigger and bulkier than his brother, Mackie, because it's affecting their act. 

I enjoy reading about these German lads from the 1930s discussing philosophers such as Goethe. They expound on whether nature really endows all children with enough raw material to bloom like cabbage roses, or whether outside intervention from educational institutions is necessary to draw it out of them. During our homeschooling years, I used to come across both points of view, loud and clear. Perhaps Herr Haberland, the Professor's father, expresses best why the waters are still so murky.

'It's confoundedly hard training children either too much or too little, and the problem is different with every child. One develops his inherent abilities smoothly and another has to have them dragged out of him with a pair of forceps or they'd never come to light at all.'  

Hear hear, every homeschooling philosopher who pushes one particular method ought to take the message of this simple paragraph on board. 

Another highlight is seeing Grandmother and her two grandkids, Emil and Pony, view the sea for the first time. Cosmopolitan Pony sees it as, 'An invisible shop assistant unrolling bright silk on an endless counter.' Although the boys all laugh her down, I like her analogy. 

It's interesting how characters show up the attitudes and habits of their times. For example, Emil throws his sandwich wrapping out of the train window, to watch it blow against the shrubs along the track. Now this boy is super conscientious in all respects, so his action here indicates that being a litterbug simply wasn't a thing in the 1930s. Nobody ever gave it a passing thought.  

Some advice still holds true. One of Kastner's personal hobbies is to catch public transport to unfamiliar locations in his own city and just walk around. It sounds like a cheap and doable creativity and productivity hack for the 1930s and the 2020s alike. 

Overall, I consider this to be another gem from almost a century ago which should be more widely read by the age group who was its target audience back in its day. 

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟 

'Pollyanna and the Secret Mission' by Elizabeth Borton

MY THOUGHTS:

 This is the final novel in the chronicles of Pollyanna's married life. She and Jimmy are empty-nesters about to commence a second-honeymoon phase of their lives, for Junior and Judy are both married and Ruth is off to college. Pollyanna is about to accompany Jimmy to Mexico in his roving job as a freelance consulting engineer. He's been hired by the Mexican government for some water storage and reclamation projects. Meanwhile Pollyanna is glad to catch up with their old friends, the Morenos.

I expected the title would refer to some heartfelt, meddlesome project of Pollyanna's own devising, but I was wrong. Instead, we're thrown into top secret, espionage, FBI sort of business, and even the Pendletons don't realize what's going on. It reminds me of the old, 'Get Smart' sitcom, because the post-war era feels similar. The 'secret mission' doesn't come to light until way near the end of the book. 

The 1951 publication date is evident all through, in recipes, household tips and outdated attitudes. Judy proudly serves her mother a jellied salad, a retro dish indeed. And when Judy's husband, Ron, starts washing the dishes, his wife and mother-in-law 'stop to giggle, as they realize what a pampered and superior feeling it gives women to hear a well-meaning man blunder around in the feminine world!' I think Borton considers herself forward thinking, but such lines indicates she's a product of her decade.

This time around, she hasn't done too bad a job of picking up threads other authors have left dangling for her. Pollyanna's son-in-law, Ronald Keith, was Margaret Piper Chalmers' brainchild, but Borton expands his character with some interesting developments. But sadly, the plot is a bit convoluted with characters that are difficult to feel empathy for.

Newcomers in this story include Anna Robesky, a graceful young blonde who claims to be writing a novel; Santiago Leal, a talented but abrasive scuptor; and Dr Silvia Godinez, a clever but dowdy academic. We also have Margie and Jessie, a pair of young cousins who work in beauty parlors and try hard to convince clients to consider nail extensions. And there is Jimmy's assistant, a young Irishman named Johnny Murphy, along with a grown-up Anita Moreno, who was a little girl like Ruth in Pollyanna's Castle in Mexico. If any of these characters spell danger, accidentally or otherwise, the Pendletons had best beware, for stakes are a lot higher than we find in other Glad Books. 

Overall, it's been like a game of Chinese Whisper between these authors. A broad view may appear seamless to some readers, but taking a step back reveals that in some controversial matters, Pollyanna's attitude has taken a total U-turn. Like the frog in the boiling pot, the heat may have been increased slowly enough that over time, many readers may not have noticed.

For example, Borton's Pollyanna tells her daughter, Ruth, that she wants her to have a solid profession behind her before she ever thinks of marriage. This totally contradicts Harriet Lummis Smith's Pollyanna, who was a blinkered advocate for stay-at-home moms to the extent of locking horns with Mildred Richards, the gift-shop proprietor in Pollyanna's Jewels. Although Borton's Pollyanna gives lip service to changing times, I tend to think it's more to do with two separate authors having opposing viewpoints on a hot topic. 

Borton puts this speech in the mouth of another character, Dr Urbina.

'Any life which applies rigid restrictions on a woman's natural interest in new things and processes dulls her mind. Women are sensitive enough to resist this. The first years of marriage usually do nothing but accustom a woman to living in a restricted field. Her general interest in people must now be confined to one man. Her life is circumscribed by four walls. She conforms to letting her husband put more and more chains on her and narrow her activities more and more to attentions to a few persons, with himself as hub and a few family members and friends as spokes of the wheel. The bride accepts all this because she is in love... but when the lustre wears off and she finds herself enclosed within a narrow sphere of repetitive duties, and of association almost entirely with young children, it is too late to strike out for any change from her routine.' 

Although Borton's Pollyanna is first to cheer this sentiment, Smith's Pollyanna would have heatedly replied that the home canvas is broader and full of far more novelty than many people give it credit for, and that those precious years with kids are fleeting and deserve total focus. I can't help wondering if Borton knew she was undermining Smith and set out intending to do just that. 

Sadly, extended family still don't get a mention. Anyone wondering whatever became of Aunt Polly, Uncle John and Aunt Ruth, Sadie and Jamie, will be disappointed. I can't help thinking the latter Glad Book authors have let down their fans by not at least giving a few lines of closure for these folk who played such huge roles in Pollyanna's and Jimmy's lives.  

I do agree with Borton on one thing. She points out in her Foreword that the Pollyanna philosophy has wrongly been labelled 'false optimism' by people who haven't bothered to ponder its meaning. Hear hear! Nothing has changed, Borton. The 21st century is full of modern, self-proclaimed experts who use the very name of Pollyanna as an insult for desperate and deluded minds who practice what we now call 'toxic positivity.' They obviously haven't read the books, or they'd know Pollyanna does no such thing. 

🌟🌟🌟   

Last up will be Pollyanna at Six Star Ranch, which is a flashback to Pollyanna's youth, a time period compressed by Eleanor H. Porter herself, in Pollyanna Grows Up. 

'Magic for Marigold' by Lucy Maud Montgomery

The eccentric Lesley family could not agree on what to name Lorraine's new baby girl even after four months. Lorraine secretly liked the name Marigold, but who would ever agree to such a fanciful name as that? When the baby falls ill and gentle Dr. M. Woodruff Richards saves her life, the family decides to name the child after the good doctor. But a girl named Woodruff? How fortunate that Dr. Richards's seldom-used first name turns out to be . . . Marigold! A child with such an unusual name is destined for adventure. It all begins the day Marigold meets a girl in a beautiful green dress who claims to be a real-life princess. . . .

MY THOUGHTS: 

A well-written Montgomery novel is always a pleasure to read, although this one starts off sadly. The baby heroine's father dies two weeks before her birth, her mother has barely recovered from her grief, and the clan gathers together to choose her name. As little Marigold grows up in her dead father's family nest, she brings much-needed sunshine and the story takes her to the cusp of adolescence in a series of the type of episode Montgomery writes so well.

In some ways, Marigold is a girl after my own heart, and in others she drives me nuts! 

Marigold's overriding trait is her innate belief that the world is a very 'int'resting' place, and she makes magic for herself with her thoughts and daydreams. It's a purely private skill since she often keeps quiet about what she mulls over, and thanks God for 'arranging it so that nobody knows what I think.' As a fellow secretive daydreamer from way back, I find Marigold more relatable than the far more sociable Anne Shirley, who bubbles out whatever she thinks to anyone within earshot. 

Life draws thoughts from Marigold which she's probably wise to conceal. She's bitterly jealous of the portrait of Clementine, her father's first wife, who was regarded as far more of a beauty than Marigold's mother. Marigold also has a pretend friend named Sylvia, who she senses is just a trifle too weird for most of her 'real' friends to wrap their heads around. And she throws an inner tantrum when she hears the rumour that her mother might marry the new minister, Mr Thompson. 

I can't help thinking in this instance, Marigold realises her attitude stinks. Loyalty to her dad surely can't be such a big factor, since he died before her birth. She just doesn't want her own little bubble to burst, and luckily for her, it doesn't. Yet I suspect Marigold would have caused a huge hassle for her poor mother if her worst fears had materialised. Judging by her extreme reaction when her grandma takes away the keys allowing her to 'visit' Sylvia, Marigold lacks the flexibility to take life's blows in her stride. 

(Honestly, who the heck languishes with grief to the point of death because they can't visit a pretend friend on the turf they've chosen? Even I found that overdrawn, and I was an intense, imaginative kid too. But unsurprisingly, the answer is the same person who resents the prospect of their mother finding renewed happiness with another man.)

But even though she's extremely manipulative in her passive-aggressive way, another thing that makes me sympathise with Marigold overall is her tendency to be a follower rather than a leader when it comes to her real life friends. Even though she has originality and imagination, she lacks the forcefulness to push herself forward, but that's okay. We can't all be chiefs, yet we can follow Marigold's example and stick up for ourselves when pushed too far. She shows we can have an agreeable nature without being a pushover. 

I like the string of droll, larger-than-life playmates who stream through Marigold's life and the funny ways in which her hang-ups tend to get resolved.

 Supporting adult characters are good. Marigold's mother, Lorraine, verges on the meek and downtrodden side, yet living as her stern mother-in-law's righthand man can't be easy without the solace of her husband's support. Notwithstanding, Lorraine does a fine job of parenting Marigold, suggesting that 'good enough' under challenging circumstances really does hit the mark.

Now, I don't consider myself a die-hard feminist, but I was miffed by the unspoken rule we see that women of the 1920s may occupy just one sphere at a time. Aunt Marigold begins the book as a brilliant doctor who saves at least one life while her medical peers remain baffled. Then when she marries Uncle Klon, it appears she must give it all up. What a waste of training and talent, potentially impacting many others apart from just herself. Thanks heavens we live a century later when the same woman can be a doctor as well as a wife and mother. 

This is probably my biggest bugbear of the whole book. I understand that a woman's role as family anchor was treated with great respect, and I always jump to Anne Blythe's  defense when people slam her for becoming 'just a housewife' instead of pursuing some idealistic literary career. But gee whiz, Uncle Klon and Aunt Marigold don't even have any kids! And she'd already put herself through medical school and set up a practice. Does she now devote the rest of her life to stroking his brow and folding his socks? 

I feel as if this book ends on a good note, just as 12-year-old Marigold is on the threshold of exploring new feelings, regarding a particular boy. If Montgomery had followed this stand-alone book with another story about Marigold's teen years and young womanhood, I would have gone straight onto that next.

As it is, this was a fun read. There's a lot to love about being transported back to an old world where rudimentary motor cars rumble alongside horse drawn buggies, every household hangs a photo of Queen Victoria on their wall, cake must always be on hand in case of unexpected guests, and fruitcake is stored in an airtight box beneath the spare room bed. Duties and responsibilities seem refreshingly slower-paced, yet we readers can sense the possible threat of tuberculosis hanging over each and every family. Reading this book encourages us to adopt the best of this 1920s era if we want to, without having to factor in the worst of it. 

🌟🌟🌟🌟

'Emil and the Detectives' by Erich Kastner

If Mrs Tischbein had known the amazing adventures her son Emil would have in Berlin, she'd never have let him go.

Unfortunately, when his seven pounds goes missing on the train, Emil is determined to get it back - and when he teams up with the detectives he meets in Berlin, it's just the start of a marvellous money-retrieving adventure . . .

A classic and influential story, Emil and the Detectives remains an enthralling read.

MY THOUGHTS:  

This is quite a cool little tale in which the main character is both victim and detective.

The book was on our shelves for years when I was little, yet I shunned it, assuming it to be a 'boys' book' purchased for my brother. In more recent years I've noticed it being celebrated as a kids' classic, and early juvenile detective story, being published in 1929. It seems the young target audience in Germany couldn't get enough of Emil, so his fame spread to the English speaking world. 

At the outset, we're told that our conscientious young hero, Emil Tischbein, is 'not a prig' since he has to make a concerted effort to be good, just as some people try to give up indulging in sweets or going too often to the pictures. (And we 21st century readers may add social media addiction.) This transparency and thoughtfulness makes young Emil instantly likeable. He understands his mother's ongoing costs-of-living worries and is willing to do his bit to help. 

So 10-year-old Emil lives with his widowed mother who struggles to make ends meet as a hairdresser. One day he embarks on a train journey to visit his grandmother, aunt, uncle, and cousin in the big city of Berlin. His mother sends some hard-earned cash for Grandmother, which Emil pins to the inside of his jacket pocket, anxious not to lose it. In spite of all his precautions, the train's motion lulls him to sleep and Emil wakes up to discover he's been robbed. 

He has a fair idea who the thief is. The sleazy Herr Grundeis who shares his carriage seems the type of man who would sink low enough to rob a young boy snoozing on a train. Hardly knowing what recourse he ought to take, Emil hops off the train several stations too early to trail the scoundrel, lugging his suitcase and a colorful bouquet, also from his mother to his grandmother. These have become iconic props of the story, which I believe represent different aspects of Emil's character. The suitcase indicates his unfamiliarity with the overwhelming cosmopolitan environment, while the flowers signify his love and loyalty to family.

Emil enlists the help of some lively, unlikely comrades to help catch the thief. They are several city boys his own age who consider themselves to be running their own, thrown-together detective agency. And the author, Kastner, cleverly weaves himself into the story down the track. 

When Emil's city family find out what's happening, his girl cousin, Pony Hutchen, comes to help. Some modern readers may think Pony's input dates the story as anti-feminist, since she proudly offers to look after the boys with coffee and rolls. However, I'd never classify Pony as a willing drudge. For starters, she's wise and resourceful, also doing plenty of other cool stuff such as speeding around on her bicycle and giving sage advice. And the hospitality/care role she takes upon herself undeniably makes everyone's lives far easier and more pleasant, so taking offence on Pony's behalf from our enlightened stance may be levelling uncalled for criticism at a worthy industry. She doesn't have a servant mentality. Rather, she has wisdom and forethought.

The simple theme is to never underestimate kid savvy and strength in numbers. Proving the crime turns out to be an ingenious brain wave on Emil's part. Altogether, it's a fun story, hugely action driven and fast-paced. If kids their age ever really had the freedom to go racing around all over the city, I think stranger danger became more of a thing in later decades.

It's not really a detective story as such, since everyone knows full well who the villain is. It's more of a high-speed chase. 

An underlying theme is the value of money, and sad chasms between the rich and poor. Nothing much has changed. Here's a bit of dialogue between Emil and one of his new friends, a boy who's dubbed, 'the Professor.'

Emil: Are your people well off?

Professor: I don't really know. Nobody ever talks about money.

Emil: Then I expect you have plenty. 

I followed this up by watching the film of the same name from the 1960s, which adds a huge number of changes to make it even more dramatic, one of my pet eyerolls. 

 🌟🌟🌟½

I'll soon follow up this review with its sequel, Emil and the Three Twins. 

'Crooked House' by Agatha Christie

Described by the queen of mystery herself as one of her favorites of her published work, Crooked House is a classic Agatha Christie thriller revolving around a devastating family mystery.

The Leonides are one big happy family living in a sprawling, ramshackle mansion. That is until the head of the household, Aristide, is murdered with a fatal barbiturate injection.

MY THOUGHTS: 

 Thumbs up for this one.

Three generations of the Leonides clan live at Three Gables, a rambling, crooked old house. Aristide Leonides, the 88-year-old patriarch, dies suddenly. His killer has ruthlessly swapped insulin with the old man's own eserine eye-drops, which gets injected straight into his blood stream. Agatha Christie has stated poisons to be among her favourite murder weapons, and this callous case takes particular advantage of the victim's vulnerability. 

Aristides' blood relatives comprise two sons and their wives, an elderly sister-in-law, and three grandchildren. They hope the culprit turns out to be Brenda, Aristides' much younger second wife, or Laurence Brown, the timid tutor of the two youngest family members. But they can't help fearing it might be one of themselves, although everyone supposedly loved the old man. 

However, a bit of probing reveals that Aristide has annoyed or strained his relationships with several of them for various reasons. 

The story is narrated by Charles Hayward, the son of Scotland Yard's Assistant Commissioner. Charles is engaged to Aristide's granddaughter Sophia, a pretty girl who refuses to marry him until the family mess gets sorted out. Hence, it's in Charles' best interests to tag along with the investigation team, although this sets him up for some awkwardness with his potential in-laws. 

The unruly family begins to remind Charles strongly of the Crooked Man nursery rhyme, with old Aristide as the lead character. It occurs to him that some of them may be crooked not in a criminal sense, but because they are so tied up with each other that it's hard to untangle themselves as individuals. 

I found myself disliking Aristide mainly because of one questionable decision he made regarding his will, which is bound to create intense family disunity after his death. I sympathize with a couple of family members specifically, for their heated reactions when they discover how their elderly relative left his money. 

The revelation of the murderer is a bit of a shocker, and I can imagine Dame Agatha smirking. She provides fairly decent clues that she counts on readers overlooking. My feelings toward the eventual denouement include horror, especially that one other character would take it upon themselves to play God, so to speak. 

The book was published in 1949, during that post-war, mid-20th century era when everyone seemed to smoke like chimneys. As a true sign of the times, Charles notices the peculiar absence of a familiar smell when he's ushered into Sophia's dad's library. It strikes him that the missing element is tobacco, for Philip Leonides is one of those 'rare beings', a non-smoker. Thankfully times have changed and he's now among the majority of people I know. 

I like this story. The characters are strong and vital, and I find myself wondering what the future will hold for some of them, who I can't mention by name and thereby indicate their innocence. My temptation to flirt with spoilers must signify the compelling quality of this story. It is up among my favourites so far.  

🌟🌟🌟🌟 

'Ishmael and the Hoops of Steel' by Michael Gerard Bauer

Ishmael has made it to the Senior School and things are really looking up. His nemesis and chief tormentor Barry Bagsley has finally decided to leave him alone, while his dream girl and chief goddess Kelly Faulkner has finally decided not to. Has he broken free of Ishmael Leseur's Syndrome at last? Could his remaining two years at St Daniel's College actually be described as 'normal'? Absolutely not. Ishmael's mates critique the Ishmael books: Ignatius Prindabel: I found 37 factual errors. Scobie: Harry Potter for those with an IQ higher than the mean. Bill Kingsley: Funnier than the Arcturian Grendel-Worm. Razzman: Short on chicks, that's all I'm saying.

(Haha, this is one of the more entertaining official blurbs I've read. Got to love the boys' critique of this series which they feature in.) 

MY THOUGHTS:

This is the final installment of the funny but perceptive high school trilogy that begins with Don't Call Me Ishmael. There was a copy of this last novel available as an e-book from the library, so I borrowed it.

It takes Ishmael and his four best friends through Years 11 and 12 at St. Daniel's. They study Hamlet in Mr Slattery's English class and actually take on board some life lessons from the Elizabethan era; every teacher's dream. 

I'm assuming that anyone reading this review will be familiar with the characters of the five boys from the first two novels.

James Scobie pushes his boundaries to consider attempting a bit of sport, Bill Kingsley comes out of the closet (not a spoiler since he makes his big reveal early on in the book), and Ignatius Prindabel quietly amazes the others by becoming a drawcard for nerdy science chicks. Orazio Zorzotto seriously considers boosting his grades, if it may lead to being a P.E. teacher some day. As for Ishmael, he initially loses Kelly Faulkner when she relocates to New Zealand with her family. Yet when she returns, suffering depression, he makes it his personal goal to turn the light back on in those ice-blue eyes. 

The novel's title is truly inspired. The 'hoops' aren't referring to the fact that Bill Kingsley has made himself trim and buff by spinning hula hoops. It's partially drawn from Hamlet, when Polonius tells his son, Laertes, 'Those friends thou hast and their adoption tried, grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel.' The boys interpret it to mean, 'Hold your true friends tight with the strongest bonds you can find.' 

Given all the merciless happenings that take place at school, they truly need each other, even Razz and Prindabel. At one point, Razz tells Bill, 'If you're crossing the stream, don't disturb the piranhas.' I appreciate how Bauer, who has worked in the education system, appreciates what a minefield it can be. In all honesty, I've never had as rough a life since I left High School.

 Finally, the boys draw upon their 'hoops of steel' bond in a most creative manner.

The best aspect of this book is the empowering, underlying motivation to set our sights on worthy goals, refusing to let the apparent impossibility of achieving them intimidate us. Our quintet set their sights on winning their House Cup for Miss Tarango, giving it their all. Their eagerness helps them to invent and maximise opportunity rather than focusing on brick walls. They become creative, possibility thinkers, each drawing from their own unique strengths for the sake of the whole. Orazio describes his theory of how 'reverse cool' can become cool again, and it almost makes sense with these boys and their teamwork.

Now, is there a drawback of this book? Hmm, I never thought I'd say this of a storybook bully, but there's not enough Barry Bagsley. In fact, although he's sometimes referred to in passing, Big Bad Bazz doesn't show his face within these pages even one single time. Now, that's unrealistic.

 Sure, he made a pact with Ishmael under heated circumstances toward the end of Return of the Dugongs, yet I can't believe he'd gracefully slip out of the picture entirely. It suggests that Michael Gerard Bauer simply had no spot for Barry in this plot. That's fair enough, but perhaps he should have taken Barry right out of the picture with a cross country move or change of school. 

At least Barry's dropkick friend, Danny Wallace, gives Ishmael a couple of straight vodkas at a formal in another eventful incident. Boys will be boys. 

It made me laugh several times, and I do regret parting with these boys. I quite understand how Miss Tarango would consider these five her favourites. 

🌟🌟🌟🌟½   

Michael Gerard Bauer's 'Don't Call Me Ishmael' trilogy

Don't Call me Ishmael

My husband is a High School relief teacher, and one day he found himself in an English class which was studying this YA novel that features Year nine students in an all-boys school. It sounded like a fun read, so when I spotted a copy at a coastal secondhand bookshop, I bought it. 

The beginning is the biggest hurdle, as our main character, Ishmael Leseur, starts off rambling. Chapter two purports to tell us how he was named after the narrator of Herman Melville's Moby Dick (a book I also found far too long-winded), yet not until chapter three does he actually tell it. I was wondering whether being a tedious narrator simply goes along with the name Ishmael, when luckily the story started growing on me. Whew!  

Ishmael has a fertile and perceptive thought life, but falls short when it comes to talking to people on the spot. He's the king of awkwardness, mind blanks and sticking his foot in his mouth. Bizarre and embarrassing things usually happen to him around his crush, Kelly Faulkner. What's more, he's a prime target of the class bully, Barry Bagsley, a nasty piece of work who relishes his hobby of making others miserable. 

Ishmael's coping tool when it comes to Barry and his gang is to make himself as inconspicuous as possible in an effort to slide beneath their radar. When a vulnerable looking new kid, James Scobie, joins the class, the newcomer's future looks grim. Incredibly, James has ways of holding his own against Barry, which Ishmael benefits from. The downside is that Ishmael's new friend James expects him to join their Year 9 debating team, which gives Ishmael extreme stress just thinking about it. 

I appreciate the fact that Barry is shown as being a jerk simply because it gives him a buzz. As a bullied kid myself at school, I'd grow weary of hearing justifications for their behaviour from teachers, such as, 'Hurt people hurt people.' Apart from resenting that we victims sometimes received less support than our antagonists, it so often didn't hold true. I knew plenty of kids from loving, nurturing backgrounds who still relished bullying just for the thrill of it. Barry seems to be one of these, and good on Bauer for not glossing over it. 

(Update: having read book 2, a fact about Barry's backstory has come to light which some readers will surely say justifies his tendency to lash out at others. But since we don't know about it all through book 1, I'll let my point stand.)  

The overdrawn imagery all through this book amazed me at first. Every page is crammed with vividly-descriptive similes and metaphors. I clearly remember, as a new writer, being corrected by an editor for doing the exact same thing. She crossed them out and told me to stop. ('It draws attention away from the flow of the story itself.') This explanation made sense, so I quickly toned them down.

Considering I took pains to train myself out of the habit, to see Bauer doing it continuously irritated me at first. But then I realized that Bauer has given Ishmael this style for a good reason. It's Ishmael's hallmark, and making these bizarre analogies is how he rolls. I enjoyed it when I got used to it. 

Just goes to show, even techniques that are generally frowned upon by professionals in the industry can become strengths when used consistently and fearlessly. 

The story clearly succeeds overall, because even though I shook my head reading it so many times, I straight away got hold of the second and third books in the series from the library.   

Characterisation and dialogue win the day. It's not often that I actually laugh out loud while reading. I've referred to certain books passing my 'tears test' in previous reviews. I'd better add a 'laughter test' now. The fact that I did laugh pushes this one from three stars to four. 

🌟🌟🌟🌟

 Ishmael and the Return of the Dugongs

Apart from his desire to get a whole lot closer to Kelly Faulkner with the wonderful, ice-blue eyes, Ishmael continues to hold his end up for their debating team. He (ineffectively) attempts to make peace when his friends, Razza and Prindabel keep clashing, and (more effectively) tries to help his dad's middle-aged band members put together a 20-year reunion concert. 

Strokes of cringeworthy bad luck continue to dog his footsteps. It seems some sort of magnetism is involved. Why do tongue-tied, awkward folk like Ishmael (and me, I admit it), tend to attract more than our fair share of face-palmy predicaments?

One big question for readers to figure for ourselves is whether Kelly is attracted to Ishmael or not? We only ever see her through his viewpoint, which remains ambiguous, even when he tries to sneak a read of her diary to find out for sure. The subject could constitute a debate among readers itself. 

Characterisation and dialogue continue to carry the day. People like Ishmael (and me) will continue to envy people like his best mate Razza, who are quick-witted enough to think on their feet and never seem to realize what a fortunate skill that is. The nerds win our affection too. It's good to see James Scobie back as his super-capable self, and I can't help wondering what science geek, Ignatius Prindabel will pull out of his hat in the third installment. 

I went away for a quiet weekend and this was a perfect short holiday read. You don't have to concentrate too hard to get a pretty decent story, there are several laugh-out-loud moments, and enough impetus for me to decide, 'Okay, aother chapter.' What will these five boys deliver next?

🌟🌟🌟🌟

Note: I have also read and reviewed the third installment of this trilogy, Ishmael and the Hoops of Steel.