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Summary
Summary
Into the Dark
Author Notes
Peter Abrahams was born in Boston, Massachusetts on June 28, 1947. His works include Lights Out, The Fan, Crying Wolf, and Oblivion. He also writes the Echo Falls Mysteries Series for younger readers. He was the winner of the 2010 Edgar Award, Best Young Adult Mystery for Reality Check. In addition, he writes the Chet and Bernie Mystery Series under the pseudonym Spencer Quinn.
(Bowker Author Biography)
Reviews (4)
Horn Book Review
Ingrid's grandfather is the prime suspect in a murder, but the curmudgeonly WWII hero refuses to provide an alibi. In between rehearsals for Hansel and Gretel, thirteen-year-old Ingrid does some investigating of her own. Abrahams expands on subplots introduced in earlier books (e.g., Ingrid's friendship/relationship with Joey; her dad's extramarital affair), but this book's mystery isn't nearly as engaging. (c) Copyright 2010. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted. All rights reserved.
Booklist Review
Abrahams continues his Echo Falls series with this tale that features intergenerational history and tension, a mysterious Indian trail in a forest, and, once again, intrepid ninth-grade sleuth Ingrid Levin-Hill. Ingrid's grandfather, a World War II veteran, has been locked in a land dispute with the Department of Conservation for years. After Ingrid witnesses an especially nasty altercation between Grandpa (who brandishes a shotgun) and some agents, one of the agents disappears. When Ingrid and her pal/sidekick Joey Strade discover the agent's body, Ingrid can't help wondering if Grandpa could be a killer. Adult readers may be appalled by the scene in which Ingrid takes out and handles the guns left in Grandpa's unlocked broom closet (and long segments following Ingrid at school tend to slow things down). But Abrahams does a good job sustaining tension throughout, and readers who liked previous books in the series will welcome this one.--Fletcher, Connie Copyright 2008 Booklist
School Library Journal Review
Gr 5-8-When an environmental agent is murdered on her grandfather's farm, Ingrid Levin-Hill, 13, is again cast in the role of detective. Her grandfather is the primary suspect, but she knows that honorable, independent, and sometimes cranky Grampy could not have committed the crime. So why does he refuse to give an alibi? From the outset Major Ferrand seems a much more likely suspect. He also is a World War II veteran and the town newspaper is about to present a series of articles featuring the three men from Echo Falls who served in the war. Alymer Hill refuses to offer an alibi for his whereabouts at the time of the shooting (the killer using coincidentally a World War II issue rifle). The story is accessible, and Ingrid's ability to not only think through the crime but also solve it is impressive. There's suspense, as Ingrid is captured by the murderer during her investigation, and a fire that also puts her life in danger. Additional appeal comes from Ingrid's friendship with the sheriff's son and her relationship with her brother and grandfather.-Sheila Fiscus, Our Lady of Peace School, Erie, PA (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Kirkus Review
In the third title in the Echo Falls Mystery series, intrepid 13-year-old sleuth Ingrid Levin-Hill grapples with not only a mystery but a family crisis: Her beloved Grampy is accused of murdering the local conservation agent, and there's strong circumstantial evidence against him. Things aren't helped by his secretiveness about personal business and his refusal to discuss secrets from the past that could exonerate him. In her own slow but steady way, Ingrid eventually unmasks the killer and uncovers Grampy's--and some townspeople's--secrets, some hidden for decades. The hallmark of this series is the author's revealing of clues to readers ahead of Ingrid. This is fun, but it can be a flaw, too, because readers paying attention figure out some details before Ingrid does so that some of her epiphanies aren't surprises. There's some excitement and enjoyment with the mystery and the growing bond between Ingrid and crush Joey, but this installment seems tired, especially compared with Down the Rabbit Hole (2005), the first and best in the series. (Fiction. 10-13) Copyright ©Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Excerpts
Excerpts
Into the Dark AER Chapter One "Brucie?" said Jill Monteiro, director of the Prescott Players. "Could we have that line again?" "'Do not vorry, my little Gretel,'" Brucie said. "'All vill be vell.'" Jill gazed at him for a moment, her dark eyes thoughtful. "Ah," she said. "That would be a German accent?" " Jawohl, Kommandant ," said Brucie. "Hansel being German," Jill said. Brucie clicked his heels. "Interesting," said Jill. "Oh, dear," said Sylvia Breen, cast as the witch but in real life assistant head teller at Central State Savings and Loan. "I'm no good at accents. No good at all." "You see the problem, Brucie," Jill said. " Nein ," said Brucie. "Either everybody does a German accent or nobody," she said. "Completely hopeless," said Mrs. Breen. "So we're gonna take a vote?" Brucie said. Ingrid Levin-Hill, sitting on a stool beside Mrs. Breen, script in her hand and all Gretel's lines underlined in red, saw that Brucie's right leg was doing that twitchy thing. Ingrid loved being in the Prescott Players, loved this beautiful little theater in Prescott Hall, loved everything about putting on plays--especially working with Jill. Jill was a real actress: She'd been in a Hollywood movie, Tongue and Groove , where she'd said, "Make it a double," to the Eugene Levy character with this wicked look in her eye, best moment in the movie, in Ingrid's opinion. She'd watched the video many times--the only way anyone had ever seen the movie, since there'd been no actual theatrical release. Working with Jill was a privilege. But working with Brucie? Ingrid had known Brucie most of her life. They had the very same birthday, a disturbing fact. She remembered Brucie on the playground, one of those kids--the only one, in her experience--who never tired of making himself dizzy. Now Brucie was the eighth-grade class clown at Ferrand Middle, taken seriously by no one. Until recently: about a month before, in fact, when his Xmas Revue performance of the wizard, in the scene where Oz is revealed to be a fraud, brought down the house--even though it wasn't supposed to be funny, and in rehearsal Brucie had missed every cue and botched his lines. But something had happened in the live performance, something that had prompted Mr. Samuels, editor and publisher of the Echo Falls Echo , to write in his "Arts, Entertainment, and Things to Do" column: "Do not miss the hilarious youngster Bruce Berman as the wizard like you've never seen him." Brucie carried the clipping in his pocket. "I make a motion," he said, "zat ve do German accents." The cast--Ingrid; Mrs. Breen; Meredith O'Malley (playing the woodcutter's wife), who looked a bit like Marilyn Monroe if Marilyn had reached middle age and let herself go; and the woodcutter, Mr. Santos, of Santos Texaco, who did a great wiseguy voice--all waited for Jill's reaction. "Who vill second ze motion?" said Brucie. Jill turned to him. "Know what I'm afraid of, Brucie?" she said. "Grizzly bears?" said Brucie. Jill blinked, a single blink, long and slow. Ingrid had never seen her do that before; for just a second, Jill didn't seem to be enjoying herself. "I'm afraid," she said, "of any additional little touch that might tip us into parody." "Huh?" said Brucie. "Parody," said Jill. "Like Monty Python and the Holy Grail ." "Monty Python?" said Brucie. "Three thumbs up." He got off his stool, pranced around the stage, making clip-clop sounds and banging imaginary coconuts to-gether. "Python rules." Ingrid's best friend, Stacy, would have smacked him; Ingrid herself came close. "Siddown," said Mr. Santos. Brucie skidded to a stop and sat. "Decisions like this always come back to understanding what the story is about," said Jill. Silence. "These two kids get kicked out of the house," said Mr. Santos. "And meet up with a witch who lures them with a gingerbread house," said Meredith O'Malley. "Don't forget the bread crumbs," said Mrs. Breen. "You're giving me the plot," Jill said. "But what's it about? That's the root of everything we're going to do with this play." Jill was back to normal. She had a lovely, expressive face; even under the dim houselights it was shining. "Kids on their own," Ingrid said. Jill nodded. "Kids on their own," she said. "Yes--and deep in a dark and dangerous place." "Ooo," said Meredith, in her breathy voice. "I just got a shiver." "So--vote or no vote?" said Brucie. Ingrid stood alone outside Prescott Hall--a huge old mansion with lots of towers and gargoyles, now mostly hidden by scaffolding. She waited for her ride. Nothing unusual about that: Mom and Dad had busy lives, were often late. Meanwhile a gray squirrel was running through the snow, a fast squirrel that kicked up tiny white puffs. Hey--it didn't really run, more like bounded along, the hind paws landing first. How come she'd never noticed that before? Like Sherlock Holmes, her favorite fictional character by far, Ingrid made a habit of observing small details. She took a close look at its tracks. Most were blurred because of how fast it had been going, but she found one clear set--the hind paws, landing first, had five toes; the front paws, actually landing behind, only four. People had the same number of fingers and toes, so why would-- Beep. She turned, saw Dad's TT parked in the circular drive behind her. The window slid down. "Ingrid," Dad called, "I honked three times." Ingrid got in the car. It smelled of Dad's aftershave--a nice smell. "You really didn't hear me?" he said. "Sorry, Dad." "Got your head in the clouds these days," he said. And you've been crabby for months. But Ingrid didn't say it. Dad worked hard--he was vice president at the Ferrand Group, and Ingrid was starting to understand that Mr. Ferrand was a pretty demanding boss. In good light now, on days like this, for example, she could see tiny lines at the corners of Dad's eyes; but still the handsomest dad in Echo Falls. "How was rehearsal?" he said. Into the Dark AER . Copyright © by Peter Abrahams . Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold. Excerpted from Into the Dark by Peter Abrahams All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.