Jenny Nimmo

(Note: I scrapped my old rant review here and finally wrote a new one.)

This book is like a simple magic trick: it's captivating when you're younger and don't know how it's done, but once you've figured it out, the mystique vanishes. And unlike the first Harry Potter book—a novel that moves sensibly from chapter to chapter—Charlie Bone comes across as scattered and uneven; akin to a rough draft in need of more development.

To begin with, nothing really happens for the first fourth of the show more book. We're introduced to the main Dahlian family: Charlie's kind mother and uncle, his wicked aunts and conniving grandmother, and also Charlie's normal (read: non-magical) friend next door. What happens next is a bit of a family feud over a macguffin wherein Charlie's uncle builds rapport with Charlie in lieu of the boy's absent father. This is all well and good, but it goes on for too long. At least in HP, there's a clearer point to all the setup (Harry's suppression finally coming to an end with the line: 'Harry — yer a wizard.'), and it's easy to root for Harry while he lives through dire circumstances. By contrast, Charlie doesn't really want to go to the magical school (he's in denial about his special power), and his family doesn't treat him all that terribly (his aunts and grandma, meant to be "bad," are actually kind of entertaining and not very threatening), so things become monotonous while we wait for the school—"Bloor's Academy for the Endowed"—to inevitably enter the picture.

But what happens when we finally get there? Unfortunately, not much. The school itself is dysfunctional in a way that prevents any real learning from happening; the kids are hardly taught how to harness or understand their powers, which undermines the whole point of having a school like Bloor's. And while Nimmo utilizes the same boarding school idea that HP does, Nimmo's version, an academy of horrors, is flimsy in its portrayal of nasty authority figures and a student hierarchy. It seems like Nimmo wanted to focus more on the characters than figure out how to make the school function on a broader social level, which is fine, but the characters themselves lack any real depth (besides Charlie's uncle or grandma), and their chances to develop get stifled by people telling them to shush or sending them to detention for random trifles. I get that it's a trope intended to show how cruel the people at the academy are, but all it does is postpone some much-needed character development (and lead to some unintentionally silly moments).

As for the magic, there's not a lot of it. I don't mind "low fantasy" settings, but due to the rushed nature of this story, a lot of the better magical moments get engulfed by a tide of padding. And, for some reason, Charlie doesn't get to use his ability all that often. But I like how the kids' powers aren't stereotypically useful or powerful, as this requires more creativity on Nimmo's part to make it all work. There's also the intriguing ways that a few folktales and fairy tales are woven into the book, not to mention the Poe influence that I now see, and the academy itself does contain some dangerous places that give rise to decent tension.

It's just too bad that the lifeblood of the story, the characters, remain unconvincing. There's some camaraderie between them, there's some rivalry, but Nimmo is too flighty a writer to really make it all work in a manner similar to that of Rowling, Dahl, or even Trenton Lee Stewart. Stewart's characters in particular are more idiosyncratic and rounded; more "real" and therefore a lot more suited for a children's book. And Dahl's characters work because, although they're not the most developed, they provide a good, oftentimes satirical look at human nature. Nimmo's characters are neither rounded nor insightful; they're just caricatures.

And Bloor's itself doesn't make a lot of sense. What purpose does it serve if not to give the endowed a tailored education? Is it only there to funnel them into a dark place and scare the crap out of them? Why don't some try to escape? Why hasn't there been a student rebellion? I don't get it.

Well, those are my thoughts. I might skim through the next book out of curiosity (and nostalgia). At one point I intended to read through the whole series again, but given my dislike for the first book, I think I'll just move on. show less

Daisy is frightened by the unfamiliar sounds in her new bedroom, but each night one of the Beasties under her bed tells en engrossing story, until the young girl is able to conquer her fears, and even become a storyteller herself. From Ferdinand's tale of protecting a king's treasure, to Weevil's story of mutual friendship with a bird, the tales each draw upon some object, from which the storyteller spins his or her yarn. Floot's button leads to the history of his interactions with a show more princess, while Daisy - with the encouragement of the three Beasties - uses a seashell to launch a tale involving the rescue of a mermaid.

Apparently Jenny Nimmo, a British children's author best known for fantasy series such as the Charlie Bone books, or The Snow Spider Trilogy, and Gwen Millward, an illustrator whose beautiful artwork can be found in such titles as The Bog Baby and Guess What I Found in Dragon Wood, are mother and daughter! I really had no idea until picking up this charming bedtime tale, although I have admired the work of both. In any case, I found The Beasties a delightfully engaging little book, one which takes the classic bedtime fear of monsters under the bed, and turns it on its head. Not only are these Beasties not malicious - an idea explored in a number of other bedtime tales - they play an active role in easing the the young heroine's fears, and teaching her the skills she needs to avoid future frights. As I expected, the artwork by Millward is lovely, with vibrant colors - Daisy's red hair provides a bright note on most pages, and contrasts wonderfully with the blue background tones - and adorable creatures. I really wanted to give Ferdinand some scritches (maybe even a hug)! Recommended to anyone looking for good picture-books that address night-time fears, or the theme of storytelling. show less

haters will compare this to harry potter when it’s closer to x-men. yes it’s childish and yes my joy for this series is 50% nostalgia but this is genuinely such a fun plot/conspiracy with cute good-natured characters and to young readers I recommend it over hp

In some ways this installment is an improvement over the previous three. Nimmo actually seems to have anticipated aspects of the plot earlier in the series, and to be looking ahead to future volumes. However, it is still disappointing. Characters who are no longer needed for their one plot point simply disappear, objects of great attention in one book never reappear, and it is still the case that any new information about a character is quickly shown to be a vital plot point. Charlie Bone show more and the Invisible Boy ended with an incipient visit to Sparkling Castle. However, the castle, Ollie, and Mr. Boldova are not even discussed in the present volume. Christopher Crowquill comes out of nowhere and, his utility outlived, he disappears from the action. Inconsistencies and discontinuities abound. For example, the endowed can usually identify each other, but Cook has never been identified by the Bloors. A character whose endowment flowers in this volume is similarly not identified by the other endowed. We learn late in the book that a shapeshifter has the people he is impersonating held captive. There is some implication that this is not just to keep them out of the way, but to "borrow...the mind" of the person. Should we then suppose that Yolanda had a little blonde girl locked away somewhere earlier in the series? Charlie now speaks enough Welsh to command the wand, though we haven't seen him study the list Uncle Patton gave him. An evidently stupid endowed child puts on a cape, even knowing that various poisoned-clothes makers are about. There is much to-do about the child's rescue and how important it was to circumvent the staff of Bloor's; later, however, said child is recouperating in the Academy's infirmary, presumably vulnerable to the Bloors' influence, but no one cares about this. Why do the prisoner's captors sequester him at the castle? It seems pretty labor- and capital-intensive to do so. Charlie and some of the other endowed children remain at Bloor's Academy to keep the balance. Other endowed seem not to have this compulsion, either as children or adults. The endowed seem for the most part to be remarkably disorganized. The characters' lack of curiosity troubles me. The adults remain generally inadequate. Troublingly from a humanitarian perspective, Uncle Paton has received an inheritance, which he spends on gourmet food. Given that Amy Bone is under Grizelda's thumb because she lacks the economic resources to have her own house, Paton's behavior seems remarkably insensitive. In addition, there's something that rings a little racist to me in Lysander's repeated reference to his ancestors as "my African ancestors." If I were an endowed person from my own ethnic background, would it be necessary for me to refer again and again to invoking the spirits of "my Jewish ancestors"? "Don't worry, Charlie--I'll call upon the powers of my Jewish ancestors"? "Don't worry, Lysander--I'll call upon the powers of my WASP ancestors" Poor editing dogs this series. This volume again reprints the introductory page about the Red King and his Time Twister, which has no bearing on the events in this book. The family named de Grey was referred to in the publisher's promotional materials as "O'Gre." While O'Gre makes more sense than de Grey, it was apparently changed after promo materials went to booksellers and others, lending confusion to the enterprise. Finally, and I hope that this is not too much of a spoiler, the Castle of Mirrors has relatively little to do with the book, and is an inaccurate title for that reason. show less