Londonstani-- Guatam Malkani

I don't know about this one.

The first third of the book was almost unreadable. (And not because it's written in British-desi slang, innit.) After pages of pointless violence and generally intense negativity, the book starts to get clever. Then it gets too clever for its own good. By the last third, every chapter ends with a "gotcha"-- the last of these moments is so smug that I would have stopped reading, except it was the last line of the book.

Londonstani got fabulous press for being "multicultural" and "comic," but the ironic use of stereotype quickly becomes tedious. You can only follow around a bunch of desi rudeboy haterz for so long. By the end, the grating misogyny becomes almost unbearable.

If you decide to brave this one, the glossary in the back will give you a patronizing breakdown of the lingo, including "dis" (this), "dat" (that), and "dem" (they). Thanks for that, bruv.

The London Eye Mystery-- Siobhan Dowd

As a kid, I loved mystery novels. Whenever our librarian highlighted a title with "mystery" in the title or "mysterious" in the plot description, I swear I trampled the other kids to get it to the checkout desk first.

(Ok, maybe I wasn't that aggro. But my enthusiasm for the genre is not to be under-emphasized.)

The London Eye Mystery totally had me squirming in my seat with suspense, much like the last mystery I read and loved. In much the same way, this one also has a lot of other great stuff going on in addition to the compelling plot.

Ted and Kat take their cousin Salim to ride the London Eye, and just can't refuse the free ticket offered to him by a stranger. They track his pod all the way around; when it comes back down again, everyone gets off-- but not Salim. The grown-ups commandeer the investigation into Salim's disappearance; although Ted has some "interesting theories," no one will listen to him except Kat. They decide to conduct an investigation of their own.

Ted-- with his formal dress, BBC accent, and obsession with meteorology-- is an excellent character and a great young detective. He takes everything literally (a manifestation of his Asperger syndrome), which makes for some very funny moments. His system for recognizing other's emotions, and his tics indicating his own feelings, add unexpected dimensions to his narration. He is used to being written off by people and doesn't have many friends; young readers need not have autism to identify with his outsider status. In an addition, there is some very astute observation of family dynamics and racist bullying that gives the story serious substance.

I thought I had the plot all figured out in the first two chapters, but then I realized there was a whole other side to the mystery I hadn't considered. The last bit of unraveling was unexpected; it seems unlikely that the kids would piece it together, but there's no underestimating Ted.

Third Year at Malory Towers-- Enid Blyton

This book was loaned to me by the wonderful D, an Enid Blyton fan from a tender age. She has fond memories of the Malory Towers series, though she handed this book to me with the caveat, “You know, it’s kind of weird. And British.”

This book is definitely amusing. It would be wrong to evaluate it in the same way I have for other books here—it’s old-school, and yes… very British. I love the way people talk, and say things like “harem-scarem” and “don’t let us.” And they call their sleeping quarters “dormies.” It’s a good thing I didn’t read these books when I was young and impressionable, or I would definitely have talked like this and suffered ridicule.

The characterizations are also awesome. First is the classroom teacher, Miss Peters, who the students describe as “hearty”—like it’s a bad thing. That is, when the author is not not describing her as straight-up “mannish.” I think those are the only two words to describe Miss Peters, actually. Then we have new student Wilhelmina, who goes by “Bill,” and she is a tomboy who loves horses. Even before she shows up, it comes to the students’ attention that she has seven brothers, and one girl remarks, “well, she must be half-boy herself.” Awesome! The other new student is Zerelda, who is American. (Who named a kid Zerelda, I do not know.) Anyway, Zerelda prances around fancying herself a future film star and, in a twist of irony for American readers, the students make fun of her accent. Awesome again! Oh yes, and Zerelda is demoted a grade because the American school system failed her and she is not used to having to work hard. Can I get a third awesome?

The other students are caricatures—they each have a quality and a talent, as well as a designated friend they pal around with. Apparently the main character, Darrell Rivers, has a temper, but I didn’t really see much of that in this book. Everyone seems to be pretty happy all the time.

There is something remarkably soothing about this book. It’s pleasant and well-paced, and it’s comforting to know that nothing truly bad will ever happen to these girls at Malory Towers (D, correct me if I am wrong and the school burns down in the last book or something). It’s safe, predictable, engaging, and—frankly—a nice change from some of the rather intense stuff I’ve been reading lately. I could totally see myself getting really into the series as a kid and wishing my parents would send me to boarding school in Cornwall.