'Liar & Spy' stays quirky with plenty of surprises
UNLIKE her Newbery Medal-winning novel, "When You Reach Me," in which time travel is the subtext to all the interwoven story lines, Rebecca Stead's new book, "Liar & Spy," is firmly grounded in the here and now. What the two do share is a mood of shimmery unrest. Part coming--of-age tale, part mystery, "Liar & Spy" takes place in contemporary Brooklyn and revolves around a seventh-grade loner and misfit named Georges. Cast out of his own home after his father loses his job and the family sells their house to make ends meet - and cast off by his best friend in favor of the popular clique - Georges finds himself living in a new apartment building with a cast of eccentric neighbors. These include the similarly aged Safer, the building's resident dog walker as well as a budding spy; Safer's younger sister, Candy; and their older brother, Pigeon.
Seemingly always at home, puttering around their sprawling apartment, the siblings bring to mind an outer-borough version of Salinger's Glass family, if a less suicidally inclined one. In fact, unlike mopey Georges, they're all quite content. Within days of moving in, Georges becomes the sole other member of Safer's top-secret Spy Club, as well as his new friend's unwitting protege in all matters espionage. Safer is fixated on the mysterious comings and goings of a man on the fourth floor (always seen exiting the building with large suitcases), whom he calls Mr X. Is the guy a businessman or an ax murderer carting off body parts? Safer enlists a reluctant Georges to help break into Mr X's apartment to find out.
Meanwhile, amid the taunts and jeers at school, a fellow misfit known as Bob English Who Draws also seeks out Georges' friendship.
Among the book's leitmotifs, note-passing also ranks high. Safer and Georges correspond via a basement wall, near the garbage cans, while Georges and his perpetually absent mother leave each other abbreviated love letters with Scrabble tiles.
Reading "Liar & Spy," one can begin to experience quirkiness overload. But Stead has such a fine grasp on the alternately base and fanciful preoccupations of seventh graders that even the occasional forays into cuteness get a pass. I was particularly impressed by her reference to the so-called gay test, which, in Georges' words, "has something to do with what finger is longer than some other finger."
Stead also understands middle-school-age children's instinctive revulsion of being pandered to. After Georges' science teacher says, "If you ever want to talk, I'm here," Georges says to himself, "Sensitive-moment alert."
If I have one real criticism, it's the sociological profile of Georges' family doesn't quite feel true to life.
Of greater importance, Stead succeeds in keeping all the mysteries going to the bitter end. And in each case, this adult was genuinely surprised by the outcomes.
Seemingly always at home, puttering around their sprawling apartment, the siblings bring to mind an outer-borough version of Salinger's Glass family, if a less suicidally inclined one. In fact, unlike mopey Georges, they're all quite content. Within days of moving in, Georges becomes the sole other member of Safer's top-secret Spy Club, as well as his new friend's unwitting protege in all matters espionage. Safer is fixated on the mysterious comings and goings of a man on the fourth floor (always seen exiting the building with large suitcases), whom he calls Mr X. Is the guy a businessman or an ax murderer carting off body parts? Safer enlists a reluctant Georges to help break into Mr X's apartment to find out.
Meanwhile, amid the taunts and jeers at school, a fellow misfit known as Bob English Who Draws also seeks out Georges' friendship.
Among the book's leitmotifs, note-passing also ranks high. Safer and Georges correspond via a basement wall, near the garbage cans, while Georges and his perpetually absent mother leave each other abbreviated love letters with Scrabble tiles.
Reading "Liar & Spy," one can begin to experience quirkiness overload. But Stead has such a fine grasp on the alternately base and fanciful preoccupations of seventh graders that even the occasional forays into cuteness get a pass. I was particularly impressed by her reference to the so-called gay test, which, in Georges' words, "has something to do with what finger is longer than some other finger."
Stead also understands middle-school-age children's instinctive revulsion of being pandered to. After Georges' science teacher says, "If you ever want to talk, I'm here," Georges says to himself, "Sensitive-moment alert."
If I have one real criticism, it's the sociological profile of Georges' family doesn't quite feel true to life.
Of greater importance, Stead succeeds in keeping all the mysteries going to the bitter end. And in each case, this adult was genuinely surprised by the outcomes.
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