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Summary
Summary
Discover a new spooky middle grade adventure for fans of Neil Gaiman and Nevermoor: The Trials of Morrigan Crow about a cursed boy who embarks on a journey into a magical city of ghosts to find out who he really is.
Oscar Grimstone is a normal kid--aside from his secret Curse. Whenever he touches something living, like a flower or his classroom goldfish, they always seem to die. But then Oscar discovers an even bigger secret: even though he is very much alive, he has the ability to transform into a ghost.
Just when he thinks things can't get any stranger two ghosts show up at his home in a skeleton carriage and he winds up joining them on a journey beyond the real world to a place he never knew existed--the city of ghosts. There Oscar will discover a place where people go once they die, before they aboard a ship to the The Other Side. But will he find out who he really is?
"Hauntingly entertaining."-- BCCB , starred review
Author Notes
Andrew Prentice is the author of two critically acclaimed YA historical novels: Black Arts and Devil's Blood . He likes his stories like he likes his coffee: rich, dark brews in a painstakingly crafted and historically accurate vessel, preferably served by a demon--though a ghost will do just as well. Black Arts was shortlisted for the Branford Boase Prize and longlisted for the Carnegie Medal. He has also written for comics and animation.
Reviews (3)
School Library Journal Review
Gr 4--8--Oscar has always been different; he walks with a crutch and prefers the dead over the living while working in his family's funeral home. But once Ghost Law Enforcement officers Sally and Sir Cedric crash into his life via ghost carriage, he realizes just how different he is. Oscar has the ability to turn into a ghost at will and can see the City of Ghosts that living beings cannot. That's only the beginning as he joins Sally in a fantastical buddy ghost cop story, chasing down a bad guy who wishes to end death forever. Readers may find themselves as confused as Oscar about this weird world in the beginning, but just as eager to catch up, flying through chapters to see what ghastly ghoul is haunting the next corner. In what other world would the slogan "Die Better!" be considered inspirational? The plot moves at a fast pace and is a fun introduction to some light horror, but it's the world-building and characters that are the stars of the show. Sally is a Victorian ghost in a preteen body, Mr. Mortis (one hopes his first name is Rigor) heads up the Ministry of Ghosts, and if you want to stick around for some unfinished business, you'd better get a Haunting Visa from the Ghost Visas department on the first floor. VERDICT This fun romp through the City of Ghosts will awe, delight, and creep readers out just a little. A solid purchase.--Kerri Williams, Sachem Public Library, Holbrook, NY
Kirkus Review
A boy with the powers of death chases a murderer whose ghost terrorizes the lands of both the living and the dead.Twelve-year-old Oscar Grimstone discovers his power to shift his form from living flesh to ghost when a masked figure in a wide-brimmed hat attacks him at his family's mortuary. This ability defies all the rules of the Ministry of Ghosts, but Sally Cromarty, a ghost detective with unresolved secrets of her own, joins forces with Oscar against her orders to track down his attacker and solve the mystery of his powers. In this supernatural thriller, Prentice imagines an afterlife mired in bureaucracy with indifferent, paper-pushing ghosts. This sense of humor undercuts the elements of horror and lightens the story's atmosphere. Londinium, the invisible land of the dead, overlaps the living London, so Oscar uses his ability to flip back and forth between the two. As a living boy, Oscar needs a crutch to walk due to injuries sustained as an infant, but not as a ghost. At first, he's thrilled to throw out his crutch, but by the end, he decides his crutch is part of him. The resolution ties up the loose ends of Oscar's mystery enough for the story to stand alone, but an undefeated villain leaves room for further adventures. Characters both living and dead are assumed white, with the exception of two very minor ghost characters who wear Indian garb.Fast-paced and suspenseful, with an intriguing setting and a lighthearted take on death. (Fantasy. 8-12) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Booklist Review
Frankly, Oscar Grimstone enjoys being an undertaker's son. He's more comfortable around corpses than kids, so it's doubly disturbing when the body Oscar is preparing becomes reanimated and violent. Could this be connected to the boy's recent problem of having small, living things die when they get near him, like grass, flowers, and the class goldfish? Somehow, being attacked by a dead man and a tank of embalming fluid seems an entirely different matter. His hunch is confirmed when two ghosts, Sally and Sir Cedric, arrive at his home to investigate a breech in magical law (i.e., his attack). While they measure phantasma levels, Oscar realizes he can now become a ghost whenever he wants. Dying to know more, Oscar persuades Sally to take him with her into the ghosts' world, where they team up to solve a macabre mystery marked by humor and ghost bureaucracy, villains, and new friendships. Prentice's first middle-grade novel is a rollicking adventure with imaginative world building, where tension is offset by comedy. Oscar's efforts to straddle two worlds will evoke laughter and tug heartstrings.--Julia Smith Copyright 2010 Booklist
Excerpts
Excerpts
"Hold tight, Mr. Jenkinson," Oscar Grimstone said. I'm just going to lean in a bit here. Don't mind me." Mr. Jenkinson made no reply. But then, his mouth was sewn shut with tiny, invisible stitches, so he couldn't have complained even if he wasn't dead. Oscar carefully slipped the bow tie around the man's neck. He caught a strong whiff of porridge as he did it. That was normal. Before Oscar's mum sewed her clients' mouths closed, she always tucked in a few bags of oats to plump up their cheeks. It was one of her secrets. "Nice floppy knot . . ." Oscar's fingers twirled nimbly. "We don't want it to look like a clip-on, do we?" She had loads of little secrets, his mum. Odd things happened to a body after it died, and it took even odder things to make it seem like they hadn't. What we do is an art, she liked to say. Don't you forget it, Oscar. Oscar didn't need convincing. Leaky, stinky stiffs were carried in the back door and peaceful dreamers went out the front to the graveyard. He knew undertaking was magic. "How does that feel for you, Mr. Jenkinson?" Oscar cocked his head to one side, admiring his handiwork. Again, Mr. Jenkinson kept up his poker face--but Oscar was sure that if his client could talk he'd be delighted. The bow tie was perfect. The cuffs were perfectly ironed, the hands folded and dusted with talcum powder. You could only faintly make out the smell of embalming chemicals, which Oscar pumped into Mr. Jenkinson to keep his body fresh, just like with Egyptian mummies. A few spritzes of aftershave did the trick. He'd done a fine job. "Very dapper. You know, loads of your family are coming to see you on your big day, plus half the town. Popular guy." Oscar glanced at the grinning picture of the living Mr. Jenkinson as he picked up a comb. "And you wore a side part, right?" Carefully, because dead people's skin had a nasty habit of peeling off if you tugged it too hard, he began to comb Mr. Jenkinson's hair. Oscar was fully aware that twelve-year-old boys aren't often found chatting away with corpses, or combing their hair, but truth be told, Oscar was at his best around the dead. Secretly, he preferred them to living people. They didn't ask awkward questions or say he smelled of bleach. They were good listeners. And dead people also talked, so long as you knew the right way to look. You could tell a lot about a person from their corpse. Take Mr. Jenkinson: Oscar knew that he'd smoked at least thirty cigarettes a day, because he'd seen the yellow stains on his fingers. He knew that he'd smiled a lot, because when he was doing his makeup, the deepest wrinkles were the laugh lines around his eyes. He knew from the tattoo Mr. Jenkinson had over his heart that he'd once loved a girl named Mabel very much. Oscar wondered if Mr. Jenkinson had met up with Mabel wherever he'd gone. "One last touch and then you're ready." Oscar took a deep breath as he glanced at the vase of lilies by the door. He'd been dreading this moment. He reached for his crutch, which was leaning against the wall beneath a framed photo of his dad. You can do it, Oscar, his father's voice seemed to say. Oscar limped across the room, ignoring the dull pain that always cramped up his leg if he stood in one spot for too long. He couldn't keep his fingers from trembling a little as he snatched up the largest flower. He cut it down for size, nearly nicking his fingers he went so fast. Then he scuttled back toward the corpse, moving as fast as his bad leg permitted. But he wasn't fast enough. Just before he got to Mr. Jenkinson, the flower withered. The petals turned black and fell to the floor. "No," Oscar hissed. "Not again." "Osky? Are you finished, love?" His mum poked her head around the door. "I'm just going down to the shops-- will you . . ." She narrowed her eyes. "What are you hiding behind your back?" "Nothing, Mum," Oscar lied. He kicked the petals under the table. The dead flower was scrunched up in his fist. Oscar didn't want her to know. He didn't want anyone to know about the Curse, which was what he'd started calling it. Problem was, people were starting to notice, especially at school. When it was his turn to feed the class's tropical fish, he'd sprinkled some flakes into the tank. The next thing he knew, Jerry the clown fish was bobbing on the surface, white belly up. Nobody felt worse for poor Jerry than Oscar, but after that, Gary Stevens started whispering about how he'd poisoned him. The whispers spread quickly. That was nothing compared to what had happened in the last PE lesson before the end of the year. They always made him goalie--because of his leg, he couldn't run. But this time every blade of grass around him had withered and died. It looked like he'd sprayed a big circle of weed killer on the penalty spot. Then the whispers became taunts. As usual, Gary Stevens and his goons were the worst. They sneered at him every time they passed in the hallways. Killer boy. Ghoul. Freak. Excerpted from Ghost and Bone by Andrew Prentice 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.
