The Pirate Review - Midnight for Charlie Bone

It's harmless and likable enough, but in the end Midnight for Charlie Bone feels like Harry Potter's poor cousin

From the outside, Charlie Bone is a normal British kid. He follows soccer, doesn't distinguish himself in school, hangs out with his best friend. Certainly there are some odd things about his family—his father is missing and presumed dead, and his Uncle Paton only ever goes out at night—but Charlie is utterly average. He knows he's average because, for most of his life, his conniving Grandma Bone and her sisters have been trying to discover some sort of hidden gift in him. Every year they send him birthday presents that seem designed to ferret out some unknown talent—musical instruments, chemistry sets, puzzles—but he doesn't seem to take to anything.

Nonetheless, Charlie does indeed have a gift—one he discovers unexpectedly when he gets the wrong photo back from the film developers'. For some odd reason, he can hear what the unknown people in the photograph were saying right at the moment the photo was taken. And it isn't just the one mystery photo—Charlie finds he can "read" any picture taken with a camera.

It isn't long before Charlie's peculiar aunts discover his unusual ability, and nearly before he has time to react, he finds himself shipped across town to Bloor's Academy, a prestigious private school for young geniuses. At least that's what most people believe about the school. Although Bloor's primarily educates young prodigies, it also has a secret program for children who, like Charlie, have magical talents passed down to them by their common ancestor—the Red King.

Of course, this introduction only scratches the surface of a tale that involves magical cats, hypnotized teachers, werewolves, bookstore owners, and a mysterious box marked "Tolly Twelve Bells" that was once swapped for the life of a missing child.

If any of this sounds familiar, it should. Much of Jenny Nimmo's book is highly reminiscent of the adventures of a certain famous boy wizard. There are some differences, of course—Charlie has a loving home life, and much prefers to spend time with his family over the dreary and sometimes dangerous confines of Bloor's Academy. Nonetheless, the book has an overall, unmistakable feel of trying to coast in on the coattails of the Harry Potter phenomenon.

This sensation isn't lessened any by the character development—or rather, the lack thereof. New characters are introduced thick and fast, almost to the point where one feels compelled to make a scorecard just to keep track of them all, and as a result the characterizations are of necessity pretty slap-dash. Perhaps this fault will be cleared up a bit in subsequent books (according to the author, Midnight for Charlie Bone is the first of a series on the Children of the Red King).

Perhaps because this is a children's book and Ms. Nimmo felt the need to keep the story moving along quickly, there are some awkward, stilted places in the plot. A bookseller, having known Charlie all of a few minutes, pours out her story to him and offers him a bag of items that are the last effects of a dead stranger. Uncle Paton's particular secret is revealed far too easily and too quickly. Readers will figure out the fate of Charlie's father long before the author admits it (actually, she doesn't—at least not in this book).

Midnight for Charlie Bone is pleasant, even interesting, and a brisk read for young fantasy lovers. It may serve to tide them over until such time as J.K. Rowling gets off her duff and sends the latest Harry Potter book to her publishers, but it's far from Great Children's Literature. Your best bet in that arena is still with the Chronicles of Narnia and the Dark is Rising Sequence.