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Lit Review: ‘Seventeen’ by Hideo Yokoyama

Introducing a new guest contributor for Lit Review, Hannah Azlan. 

Who: Japanese novelist Hideo Yokoyama specialises in mystery novels but has said that the crime is the least interesting part of his stories; instead, he likes to focus on the psychology and social dynamics of characters affected by the crime. His 15th novel, Six Four, was the first to be translated into English. Seventeen is the second novel of his translated into English.

What: The year is 1985, and Kazumasa Yuuki, a seasoned reporter at the North Kanto Times, is running a daily gauntlet against the power struggles and office politics that plague its newsroom. But when an air disaster of unprecedented scale occurs on the paper’s doorstep, its staff are united by an unimaginable horror, and a once-in-a-lifetime scoop.

Fast forward to 2003, 17 years later — Yuuki remembers the adrenaline-fuelled, emotionally charged seven days that changed his and his colleagues’ lives. He does so while making good on a promise he made that fateful week — one that holds the key to its last unsolved mystery, and represents Yuuki’s final, unconquered fear.

Why: This languidly paced novel focuses more on newspaper politics and is less investigative thriller than the blurb suggest. It examines the impact investigating an air crash has on a group of reporters and editors than the crash itself. Yuuki as a character makes for an interesting study, and the novel opens with him about to tackle a mountain climb. There’s something very Japanese about the way the present story of a climb up a difficult mountain face is juxtaposed against the main event of the air crash, which happened 17 years ago. The translation, however, feels distanced and somewhat opaque, and it feels like we’re experiencing the story from few steps back rather than directly. I found myself skimming in parts but there is a metaphysical mystique that does keep one reading.

Verdict: A dense read to be sure, but one that deftly explores the psychological aspects of its characters. (5.5/10)

Availability: Trade paperback, RM79.90

Special thanks to Times Distribution for an ARC of the book. 

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‘Wed Wabbit’ by Lisa Evans (Review by Ng Zan Lim, age 10+)

Hey folks! Nothing gives Elaine and me greater pleasure when we meet kids excited about reading and so when this young man, Ng Zan Lim, aged 10 and a bit, said he wanted to write a review for us, we were quite over the moon! Zan Lim recently read Lissa Evans’ superb book, ‘Wed Wabbit’ which is beloved by Elaine as well. The following is his review of the story, which provides a good overall summary and why he thinks his fellow peers should read the book. 

Spoiler Alert!

I would like to write a review about a book called Wed Wabbit. It is the cover that attracted me into reading this awesome book. The story is about Fidge and her cousin Graham in Wimbley Land trying to go home while finding Minnie’s toys which are a carrot, an elephant, a phone and Wed Wabbit (Minnie’s favourite toy).

In Wimbley land, there are different colours of Wimbley Woos. There are blue, green, yellow, pink, purple and grey Wimbley Woos. Blue are strong, green are daring, yellow are timid, purple understands the past and the future of Wimbley Land, pink give cuddles and grey are wise and rarely wrong. It is an interesting, funny and adventurous book because Fidge and Graham have to understand some mysterious poems and riddles from the purple and grey Wimbley Woos while they go on difficult obstacles along the way.

If I were to rate this book from a scale of one to ten, I would choose eight because it is the best book I have ever read in a very long time. I would recommend it for children aged 10 or above. I wish Lissa Evans could make Wed Wabbit 2. I would suggest more characters inside the story and more poems and riddles for everyone to solve. I would also suggest 7 more colours and one or more city for the Wimbley Woos.

Thank you for reading this book review until the end. 🙂

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Lit Review: ‘The Lido’ by Libby Page

Who: Libby Page wrote The Lido while working in marketing and moonlighting as a writer. She graduated from the London College of Fashion with a BA in Fashion Journalism before going on to work as a journalist at The GuardianThe Lido is her debut novel.

What: The Lido’s story isn’t unfamiliar: the Brockwell Lido, an outdoor swimming area in Brixton, a district of South London, is under threat of redevelopment. Luxury property developer Paradise Living intends to buy over the lido from the district council, fill the pool with cement, and transform the lido into a private gym for their property owners. Octogenarian Rosemary Peterson who has been swimming in the lido since she was a child will have nothing doing with the plan and marshals the swimmers of Brockwell Lido to oppose the sale.

The citizen’s action group catches the interest of local rag the Brixton Chronicle, which sends junior reporter Kate to cover the story. Kate, as we are introduced to her, is a mousy 20-something, leading a lonely existence occasionally blighted by anxiety attacks. Because of her social dysfunction, her day-to-day is a long, repetitive walk in a corridor of darkness and silence, avoiding people and with her head stuck firmly looking at the ground. Her evenings are spent watching documentaries with titles such as The Boy who Wants to Cut off His Arm and she “drinks one glass [of wine] too many, because it makes her head feel foggy which is better than being conscious of fear sitting on her shoulder and the cloud above her head”.

Everything changes when Rosemary takes Kate under her wing, and insists that Kate take a swim before consenting to an interview for the newspaper. The pool has a transformative effect on Kate who feels her anxiety float away in the pool, and steadily, a friendship and bond develops between her and the older woman. Rosemary would introduce Kate to her small, large life in the neighbourhood. Rosemary is not only a staple at the lido but also in the surrounding neighbourhood. Kate begins to find her place in the neighbourhood, develops a greater sense of self and starts to engage with the people around her, and, like Rosemary, becomes personally invested in saving the community pool. Opposition to the lido sale begins with community action — pamphlets and petitions — which further emboldens Kate who eventually takes the mantle of leadership over from Rosemary. Her newfound confidence also positively affects her work, love life, and in coming to terms with ghosts from her past.

Why: The Lido is an unabashed feel-good book. Extolling the virtues of community, friendship and a smaller life, The Lido feels a bit iconoclastic in the current YOLO climate. But extol those virtues it does, and in such a charming way that one forgives the sometimes clumsy tugs on the heartstrings; arguably, the story could not have been written any other way. On the plus side, the book does not rail against gentrification: change is inexorable, but can be delayed.

The Lido joins other recent books in the so-called sub-genre of Up Lit, which, loosely defined, are stories that celebrate kindness, compassion and friendship. These titles do not sugarcoat or trivialise the realities of life, nor do they employ magical or spiritual vehicles a la Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist to create a world where wishful thinking becomes reality. Authors of these books argue that we live in harsh, uncaring times but if there is room for kindness and compassion in real life, so there is in stories. “It’s about facing devastation, cruelty, hardship and loneliness and then saying: ‘But there is still this.’ Kindness isn’t just giving somebody something when you have everything. Kindness is having nothing and then holding out your hand,” Rachel Joyce, the author of international bestseller The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, says.

While it’s a bit reductivist to suggest, as the book does, that anxiety and mental illness is inexorably linked to isolation and disengagement, but recent studies such as this one lend some credence, not uncontroversially, to what we all suspect: Social isolation increases risk of depression, and the proliferation of technology contributes to increased social isolation. The lido, from this perspective, becomes more than just a day out in the swimming pool but an exhortation for the latent need to belong and for recognition.

Sad bits are unavoidable in these stories. In one scene, we see Rosemary walking down a quiet street one evening on her own, and struggles her way through the crowd in a chic, up-market cocktail bar. She climbs up to the bar amidst the reveling London crowd and orders an Old Fashioned. “Around her crowds of young people laugh and drink from jugs filled with ice, brightly coloured cocktails and retro paper umbrellas. She is flanked by two couples in deep conversation, their backs to her. If they looked up they would see a faded green sign above the cocktail bar that says ‘Fresh Fruit and Vegetables: Peterson & Son’.” Killer.

Verdict: A life- and kindness-affirming story that makes one wistful for a past that perhaps never was. (7.5/10)

In-store Availability: Trade paperback, RM79.90

Thanks to Pansing Distribution for an advance reading copy of this book.

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Lit Review: ‘The Fandom’ by Anna Day

We’re happy to welcome another guest contributor, Mabel Ho, to the Lit Review fold! Her first review is a novel from debut YA author Anna Day.

Who: Anna Day is a clinical psychologist and author from Northeast England. The Fandom is her debut novel.

What: Best friends Violet and Alice are fangirls of The Gallows Dance, a made-up story with similar post-apocalyptic shades of YA dystopian fiction movie franchises. Armed with the power of teenage enthusiasm, Violet and Alice set off to Comic-Con with their friend, Katie (who’s impervious to The Gallows Dance story entirely; think of your friend who’s never read Harry Potter), and Violet’s younger brother, Nate.

The cosplay-ready foursome, brimming with excitement to meet the actors who portray their fictional idols in the movie adaptation of the novel, get far more than they bargained for when they find themselves transported right into The Gallows Dance. Faced with the conflicting choice of running parallel with the canon storyline or writing her own narrative, Violet and the rest have to find a way out of the world they fantasised being a part of or risk being trapped in the story’s endless loop.

Why: Set on the age-old cautionary tale of “be careful what you wish for”, this story was an intersection of dystopian young adult fiction and a subsequent social commentary of the fandoms born out of these worlds. The stakes don’t feel high, as such narrative attempts of a world built within a world can result in flimsy storytelling. But what makes up for it are the noticeable tropes of this fantasy genre and the insertion of Violet and her friends’ fictional reality teeters on an almost satire.

Violet as the main character is portrayed with authenticity and given a nuanced middle ground — she’s not your usual YA dystopian badass (read: Katniss Everdeen, ruthless and unforgiving), or your YA sad but hopeful heroine (read: Hazel Grace Lancaster, dying and willful). She takes us through her juvenile comprehension of having to adult while clinging onto youthful ignorance as she navigates her internal conflict of sticking to the script of the story or ad-libbing her own narrative. Underscoring the entire story are themes of jealousy, confusion, heartbreak, love and friendship, superficially explored through her relationships with the other characters. The story does drag a little before reaching its climax but it was still a compelling page turner in search for the ending.

Best/Worst Line: “And some stories simply need to unfold,” she says. “They need to reach their beautiful climax, existing almost like a life cycle, an entity in their own right.”

Verdict: Much like fan fiction brought to life, it’s a fun meta read, interspersed with all the touchpoints of a post-apocalyptic story, with a splash of overactive teenage hormones. (7/10)

Availability: Trade paperback, RM44.90

Special thanks to Pansing Distribution for an ARC of the book. 

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Lit Review: ‘The Wren Hunt’ by Mary Watson

By guest contributor Poon Jin Feng 

Who: Mary Watson moved to Ireland from South Africa over a decade ago and found herself captivated by the magical landscape she now calls home. She has written a collection of short stories, Moss, which bagged the Caine Prize in 2006, and has written a full-length novel, The Cutting RoomThe Wren Hunt, inspired by an Irish tradition, is her debut YA novel and the first of a series.

What: Every St Stephen’s Day, as per tradition, a group of boys in the Irish village of Kilshamble organise a Wren Hunt. Only this version a little warped, involving the chase of the unfortunately named Wren Silke through the woods surrounding the isolated village.

The hunt takes on heavier meaning this year as Wren comes into her powers, the fairly useless – or so she thinks – gift of obscure visions. Two factions reside within this community: the powerful Judges who control the nemeta, a source of power, and the Augurs, who have been driven into hiding in plain sight. The boys who torment Wren belong to the former and Wren’s people are part of the latter. In a desperate bid to save them from their dwindling magic, she takes on a dangerous undercover assignment right in the heart of the Judge’s lair. Caught in a web of deceit and conflicting loyalties, she holds the fate of the Augurs in her young hands.

Why: Reviews of The Wren Hunt consistently remark on the difficulty in categorising the book for fear of pigeon-holing it into a restrictive genre, and for good reason. Part fantasy, part thriller, and (small) part romance, it stands in a league of its own and seems poised to have a cult following.

It takes off on a rather dark and disturbing note, opening immediately to the tense hunt, and the first couple of chapters are somewhat hard to follow. I’m glad I persevered though. The mystical Irish setting and consequent lyrical language are highly atmospheric and set the tone for a haunting tale. The action picks up pace steadily and by the middle of the book, it keeps you in painful suspense as Wren tries to ingratiate herself with a high-ranking Judge while surrounded by her tormentors.

Character development occasionally falls a little short but this is offset by the skilful way the author handles the interactions between the characters and plays with subtle nuances in storytelling. The hostility between the Judges and Augurs is adeptly explored, and the world-building is fascinating. It can get a little confusing at times – oscillating between insufficient and too much in the way information is revealed – but soldier through and you will be rewarded with an utterly unexpected and well-crafted twist. Watson’s novice shows at times in her debut novel but her originality and rich imagination will keep you intrigued, if uneasy.

Reading Level: Ages 15 and up

Verdict: A bit of a difficult read, it is haunting, a touch dark and wrapped in a mesmerising branch of old magic. (7.5/10)

Availability: Paperback, RM49.90

Special thanks to Pansing Distribution for a review copy of the book. 

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Lit Review: ‘Begone the Raggedy Witches’ by Celine Kiernan

We’re happy to welcome another guest reviewer on our Lit Review column, Poon Jin Feng. His first review is a children’s book, Begone the Raggedy Witches by Celine Kiernan. 

Who: Award-winning author Celine Kiernan is best known for The Moorehawke Trilogy and her 2011 novel, Into the Grey, was the first book to receive both the CBI Book of the Year Award and the CBI Children’s Choice Award. Begone the Raggedy Witches is her latest children’s novel and is the first book in the The Wild Magic Trilogy.

What: On the day that Aunty Boo passes away, Mup’s world turns upside down and her seemingly ordinary life turns out to be anything but. Following their car home from the hospital are the Raggedy Witches who want to lure her mother home to the Witches Borough, where she had been born. Mup’s mother did not even know she was capable of magic; Aunty Boo had kept this secret from their little family and without her to protect them anymore, they have to fend for themselves in this entirely unknown world.

The witches kidnap Mup’s father and it is up to Mup, her mother, her baby brother Tipper, and their dog Badger to rescue her father from the fantastical land. Tipper is turned into a dog, they meet a conflicted boy called Crow, and encounter the vivid beauty and ugliness of magic depending on who wields it. Young Mup is forced to make hard choices when she finds that the instructions of the adults around her often are at odds with what she believes in her heart to be right and true.

Why: I have been an adult for enough years to confidently wield that title but even I will admit to being utterly captivated by this middle school gem. The action starts on page one and doesn’t let up throughout the book, the quick pace making this easy to devour in a single sitting. Kiernan’s gift with words is undeniable in the evocative way she conjures up her native Ireland in her literary works, effortlessly weaving magic into setting and story.

Character development is another strong point of hers, with each subject flaunting very real flaws and virtues. One sign of good writing is presenting a perspective of the antagonists that readers can identify or sympathise with. Crow’s character especially is one that is difficult to love but equally difficult to vilify, a duality Kiernan handles with appropriate sensitivity. Mup, meanwhile, is a spectacular main character, an oddball heroine well able to carry this entire adventure on her back.

Reading Level: Ages 10 and up

Verdict: An action-packed romp led by a suitably quirky main character and well upheld by a colourful supporting cast. (9/10)

Availability: Paperback, RM44.90

Special thanks to Pansing Distribution for a review copy of the book. 

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Lit Review: ‘Borne’ by Jeff Vandermeer

Who: Jeff VanderMeer is the author of the bestselling, award-winning Southern Reach trilogy (Annihilation, Authority, and Acceptance), the first of which was adapted into a critically-acclaimed movie on Netflix. VanderMeer is a three-time World Fantasy Award winner and 15-time nominee, and widely regarded as a leading fantasist.

What: Borne takes place in an unnamed City, at an unknown time, in an unknowable dimension. The City is ruled by a malevolent ursine god-emperor, the giant flying bear Mord. Mord, of Godzilla-esque proportions, is the product of the morally ambiguous organisation known only as the Company, which pumps out biotech for purposes both pragmatic and nefarious. Biotech has effectively taken over the natural world in the City, with humans likely the only ones that have not been experimented on (at least not on a large scale). The story of the City and Mord is told in the first person by Rachel, a scavenger par excellence who ekes out the barest living with her lover and partner Wick formerly of the Company. Wick grows and manufactures biotech from the raw sluices of his bio-pool in their descriptive but unimaginatively named hideout Balcony Cliffs. There is no water in the City save in toxic sludge pools; food must be scavenged; and booze comes from the insides of bio-engineered fish. But all this changes when Rachel finds Borne, an innocuous-looking sea anemone, on one of her scavenging sorties.

Why: There are quite a few layers to Borne. On the one hand, it’s a story about a survivalist doing the best she can in a really trying situation; on the other, it’s about a mother and child relationship a la ‘We Need to Talk About Kevin. On a third (bio-engineered) hand, it’s about humanity’s self-destructive practice of strip mining natural resources and returning genetic modifications into nature; and on a fourth tentacle, it’s about royal rumble between a 20-storey giant flying bear and a giant sea anemone. Is there too much going on? Fortunately, thanks to the book’s slimy, malleable, bio-organic theme, the story unfolds fairly smoothly and manages to check some of VanderMeer’s wilder imaginings. Admittedly, it takes time to accept a giant flying god-emperor bear.

Nevertheless, VanderMeer’s universe with its writhing, sinewy, biological perversions can be difficult to stomach, particularly for someone with acute trypophobia. The bio-engineered creations in the City occupy that fine border demarcating magical fantastical reality and pure fantastic perversions — a fact happily acknowledged by Rachel: “In the City, the line between nightmare and reality was fluid” as evidenced by modified children who are armed with “an explosion of colours and textures and a variety of limbs”. There is something uncanny valley-ish about VanderMeer’s city in that everything within it is recognisable as both real and unreal at the same time. Red salamanders rain from the sky only to dissolve into liquid when hit by sunlight, predator cockroaches and crab spiders function as biotech defences, and a giant leviathan of a fish masked with a human woman’s face is used as an assault weapon — this is some trippy stuff.

For the lucky reader, all these unrealities recede into the background after a while: Of course they are going to mine no-man’s land with bio-engineered bugs and tentacles. What else were they going to use? Mines? And there is also the side-story of Rachel’s exodus from a much more normal and bucolic childhood to this Lovecraftian nightmare of the City. Central to the story is the notion of secrets — kept both by Wick and Rachel, and embodied in both Borne and Mord. As with all stories containing a secret, some of the narrative borders dangerously close to melodrama leaving some readers including this one to wonder how people as childish and immature as Wick and Rachel could ever hope to survive in the City’s nightmarish wasteland. (This is also a problem I had with Ernest Cline’s Ready Player One).

Giant flying bears, alcoholic minnows, battle beetles and demonic children aside, it is perhaps unfortunate that the most difficult creation to stomach is the eponymous Borne with whom Rachel develops a maternal bond. It’s not so much the physiology of Borne or his mind-bending physical capabilities, but its personality and extent of its mental development that feels like a bridge too far. It’s clear that VanderMeer hoped for Borne to be a multi-textured being that struggles with existential and ethical angst, but nevertheless retains its child-like innocence. This theme of an innocent killing machine is a pet peeve of mine and has rarely been pulled off well. I do not think Borne is an exception.

Verdict: Imaginative and more fun in retrospect than in the actual reading. It certainly makes me want to read some of VanderMeer’s earlier novels and perhaps catch Annihilation on Netflix. (7.5/10)

Cultural Touchpoints: Think Mad Max meets Heavy Metal.

Availability: Paperback, RM59.90

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Lit Review: ‘Wed Wabbit’ by Lissa Evans

Who: After four years as a junior doctor, Lissa Evans decided medicine wasn’t quite for her and gave it up for an entirely different career. Following a decade-long stint as a producer and script editor for both radio and television, Evans decided she would write something of her own. Her first novel, Spencer’s List, was published in 2002. Since then she has written three other novels for adults and three for children. Wed Wabbit is her latest novel for young readers.

What: Eleven-year-old Fidge, her four-year-old sister Minnie, and their mother are out shopping one day when Minnie encounters an awful accident that lands her in the hospital. Fidge is sent to stay with her cousin, Graham, because Mum needs to be with Minnie. On her very first day with her neurotic and excessively mollycoddled cousin, they are suddenly whisked into the world of Minnie’s favourite storybook, The Land of Wimbley Woos during a freak thunderstorm. Inhabited by different coloured Wimbley Woos, the land is ruled by the good King Wimbley, at least according to the book. Instead, Fidge and Graham find that an ill-tempered tyrant, Wed Wabbit, has taken over the land: the wascally wabbit has locked up the good King Wimbley, confiscated all the candy, and is soaking up all the joy and colour from the land. Even though Fidge and Graham don’t like each other very much, they quickly realise that they have to work together to help the Wimblies depose Wed Wabbit before it’s too late. Luckily for them, they have help in the form of Ella, Minnie’s stuffed elephant, and Dr. Carrot, Graham’s comfort toy.

Why: Reading this story made me smile pretty much throughout the entire book. While the lead-up to Fidge and Graham ending up in Wimbley Land is by no means perfect, the story really blossoms from there on in the fantastic Land of the Wimbley Woos. Evans deftly uses fantasy and humour to relay complex ideas (from dealing with loss to the beauty of diversity), and the result is an utterly enjoyable but also deceptively wise and emotionally intelligent book. The tale is wonderfully imaginative, peppered with puns and jokes for both children and adults, and has a therapeutic message to boot. It is a gem of a story that will appeal to both children and grownups alike.

Reading Level: Ages 10 and up

Verdict: Witty, whimsical, funny and poignant, this book is an absolute delight and I cannot recommend it enough. (10/10)

Availability: Paperback, RM45.90

Special thanks to Pansing Distribution for a preview copy.

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Lit Review: ‘Dear Mrs Bird’ by AJ Pearce

We are pleased to introduce the first of what we hope to be many Lit ‘Guest’ Reviews. In this segment, we invite our discerning friends and guests to contribute a review of a book they’ve recently read — advance reading copies (ARC) or otherwise.

For our first column, we have a review by Jack Smith, a friend we’ve recently made at the shop and a self-professed crime/thriller aficionado. It is, therefore, quite interesting that the first book he has chosen to review for us is AJ Pearce’s debut novel Dear Mrs Bird, set in 1940s London. From the outset, Dear Mrs Bird looks a bit of a comic drama, not dissimilar to Mary Ann Shaffer’s highly readable The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie SocietyThe following is Jack’s review of the ARC provided by Pansing Distribution. 

The well-researched narrative, and a cast of fully relatable characters, puts a smile on your face almost immediately; and you imagine that it will stay there. However, given that it is set in London in the early years of WWII, there are heart wrenching episodes breaking up the general heart-warming tale.

AJ Pearce employs a clever writing style which, by using typical 1940s phrases/slang and evocative descriptions of the Blitz, manages to convey a real sense of daily life in wartime London.The story approach is original and melds historical fiction with human elements of fun, comedy, tragedy and poignancy. As well as being a “romp”, it is also thought-provoking as it pulls you in with the vivid descriptions of how people coped with the uncertainties and devastation of German bomb drops.

The main character is Emmeline (Emmy) Lake who lives with her best friend Bunty. This allows for the display of joys and frictions of relationships in trying times. The dialogue really does feel as if it is taken directly form Emmy’s diaries. Emmy volunteers part time for the Fire Service whilst doing her day time job, but dreaming of becoming a war correspondent. Upon seeing an advert for a Junior at a leading newspaper she thinks that this is her chance. However, in her eagerness, she fails to realise that the position is just for a typist at a failing women’s magazine. She decides to stick with it as it may lead to Better Things.

Her main duty is to type answers to the letters received by the “Agony Aunt”, Mrs Bird. Unfortunately, the cantankerous Henrietta Bird will not countenance any Unpleasantness (note the capital letter), which means that the advice that the readers most need is never offered and the letters are thrown in the bin. This upsets Emmy, who secretly decides to respond, in the best way she can, to some of the desperate. The story arc then unfolds, joining together the consequences from this decision and the perhaps unsurprising result on her personal life.

It wouldn’t surprise me if there is a sequel (you do wonder what happens next); and it would make a good television drama.

Availability: Trade paperback, RM77.90

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Lit Review: ‘Below Zero’ by Dan Smith

Who: Award-winning UK author Dan Smith writes adventure stories for children and thrillers for adults. His latest novel for young readers is Below Zero.

What: At Outpost Zero in frigid Antarctica, eight families have volunteered to be part of the Exodus Project, a programme designed to train them for life on Mars. Enter our would-be hero, Zak, his parents, and older sister, May, who cut their beach holiday short so that Zak’s parents could check on their malfunctioning invention, the spider drones. The scene at the base, however, is less than welcoming. The power supply is erratic, the vehicle parked out front is damaged, and the people who were supposed to be on-base seem to have disappeared.

Suspicion is immediately cast on the work being done by scientists from BioMesa, an enigmatic biotech company that have set up shop in the Antarctic. They are — were — currently studying a mysterious life form discovered in The Chasm, a fissure in the thick antarctic ice a stone’s throw away from Outpost Zero. That the strange going-ons at the base are due to these alien critters comes as a surprise to Zak and his family, who how have to fight to outsmart the invaders. But as each of his family members fall prey, one by one, to the creatures, Zak finds himself having to play the part of the reluctant hero.

Meanwhile,  another menace is brewing in the form of The Broker. He wants to get his hands on the alien life form BioMesa discovered and has deployed a weaponised tactical team to steal it. But what started out as a straightforward mission quickly goes awry.

Why: I’ll say this right off the bat: I really enjoyed this. It’s a fun sci-fi page-turner with a background scenario that’s so current — training for life on Mars — even if the main plot does not revolve around it. I like a good alien story, and this one surprises in pleasant ways.

Parents looking for a stimulating story with an empowering thread will find it here. A sensitive and thoughtful lad, Zak is an unlikely hero. He isn’t particularly brave or strong, and he suffers from a brain tumour, and is dreading the treatment he would have to start when he gets home. When it falls on him to save the day, he has to scrounge up courage to save his family from their fatal end.

Reading Level: Ages 11 and up

Verdict: An unputdownable, fast-paced, action-packed, heart-thumping sci-fi mystery and adventure tale with enough intrigue to keep you guessing. (8.5/10)

Availability: Paperback, RM44.90

Special thanks to Pansing Distribution for a review copy of this book.