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Texas Pentagraph #5
In Theory, it Works
There is something different about Theory, Texas.
The hill-country farm town seems sleepy and dull, memorable as the thirty-fifth Tuesday of whatever year you can't recall.. You could drive through Theory, Texas in two minutes, not recalling a thing about it a minute later.
Perhaps the difference is in little things. The ice rink is upside down. A cat is mayor. The donut shop enforces strict rules of Truth. In the town park farmers debate the meaning of existence. Tuba playing is forbidden within town limits.
And the high-school science teacher, Ted Alva, has been warned: beware the friendly stranger from Acronym Land. Guard the secret archive of past inventions, less some devil or corporate CEO find use for the town's secret.
And that secret is (sssshhh, don't tell)...In Theory, everything works.
The unlikely dreams, the improbable machines, all the conceivable inventions that in ordinary places would beget explosions, laughter or a dull and useless hum... these things can work. In theory.
In Theory, Texas, everything works.
The hill-country farm town seems sleepy and dull, memorable as the thirty-fifth Tuesday of whatever year you can't recall.. You could drive through Theory, Texas in two minutes, not recalling a thing about it a minute later.
Perhaps the difference is in little things. The ice rink is upside down. A cat is mayor. The donut shop enforces strict rules of Truth. In the town park farmers debate the meaning of existence. Tuba playing is forbidden within town limits.
And the high-school science teacher, Ted Alva, has been warned: beware the friendly stranger from Acronym Land. Guard the secret archive of past inventions, less some devil or corporate CEO find use for the town's secret.
And that secret is (sssshhh, don't tell)...In Theory, everything works.
The unlikely dreams, the improbable machines, all the conceivable inventions that in ordinary places would beget explosions, laughter or a dull and useless hum... these things can work. In theory.
In Theory, Texas, everything works.
- GenresFantasyMagical Realism
323 pages, Kindle Edition
Published June 14, 2022
1 person is currently reading
76 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews
June 21, 2022
I’d be disappointed if I got anything less than excellence from this author and I’m not disappointed one bit after reading this book. It’s certainly vying with only a couple of other books for my favourite read of the year.
As usual superb prose, so many highlighted sections and phrases (although my Kindle isn’t cooperating in easily sharing them). A rather good, clever plot where all the mysterious parts thrown up during the course of the story make a very neat whole at the end. And excellent characters, not least the ‘young adults’, the 15/16 year olds (I think) which I find the author writes very well indeed.
The book has an upbeat vibe, while not avoiding one darker plot line noting how crap a parent can make a child’s life; there’s some romance of both the adult and adolescent variety, something I normally avoid as so many authors write romance (including the desire and sexual aspects) as so cringeworthily different from normal experience (I guess I mean mine) but which this author carries off well; it has the background magical realism element that I’ve learnt something about by reading this author - a quiet, conservative, contemporary town, dull in many respects, but enlivened by this subtle supernatural background that makes life in this town bizarrely interesting.
The plot mainly concerns a teacher and his pupils, plus a mysterious visitor to the town. In this town, named Theory, Texas, a farming community, there’s something strange that means what might only seem possible in theory elsewhere may sometimes be surprisingly possible in reality here (there are plenty of puns linked to the town’s name!). So when a school science fair is proposed the options for weirdness grow dramatically. Loved it, especially as I’ve had involvement in science outreach with kids over many years, and have seen their often unfulfilled ambition with the dramatic items they’d like to construct.
Also a Dungeons and Dragons strand to the plot, something outside my personal experience but which I’ve found featured by many fantasy authors suggesting it must be a formative part of their evolution into fantasy authors (just a theory).
This concludes a series of five books all set in the quiet agricultural hill country of contemporary Texas which I’ve thoroughly enjoyed. I guess all of us regular readers have an author we read who isn’t in the ‘bestseller lists’, not widely known, but who we think deserves far wider appreciation and accolades for their talents - this author is very much in that category for me, and only discovered about a year ago.
The books are each standalone stories and I think could be read in any sequence;
Letters from the Well in the Season of the Ghosts
To Awaken in Elysium
In Theory, it Works
As I Was on My Way to Strawberry Fair
The Stations of the Angels
The first three in the list I think would be widely accessible for their everyday, really well written stories with that subtle quirky magical realism undercurrent. The last two have maybe a heavier magical realism element and required more mental adjustment on my part as I read them (but enjoyed them enormously too after recalibrating my brain).
I think the author’s own summary of his series sums this series up well;
“I’m calling it the Texas Pentagraph. Five books about the same dull little area of central Texas. Each book is vaguely comic, adventurous, romantic, philosophical, even, possibly, magical.“
Give yourself a treat, pick up one of them and give it a go…
As usual superb prose, so many highlighted sections and phrases (although my Kindle isn’t cooperating in easily sharing them). A rather good, clever plot where all the mysterious parts thrown up during the course of the story make a very neat whole at the end. And excellent characters, not least the ‘young adults’, the 15/16 year olds (I think) which I find the author writes very well indeed.
The book has an upbeat vibe, while not avoiding one darker plot line noting how crap a parent can make a child’s life; there’s some romance of both the adult and adolescent variety, something I normally avoid as so many authors write romance (including the desire and sexual aspects) as so cringeworthily different from normal experience (I guess I mean mine) but which this author carries off well; it has the background magical realism element that I’ve learnt something about by reading this author - a quiet, conservative, contemporary town, dull in many respects, but enlivened by this subtle supernatural background that makes life in this town bizarrely interesting.
The plot mainly concerns a teacher and his pupils, plus a mysterious visitor to the town. In this town, named Theory, Texas, a farming community, there’s something strange that means what might only seem possible in theory elsewhere may sometimes be surprisingly possible in reality here (there are plenty of puns linked to the town’s name!). So when a school science fair is proposed the options for weirdness grow dramatically. Loved it, especially as I’ve had involvement in science outreach with kids over many years, and have seen their often unfulfilled ambition with the dramatic items they’d like to construct.
Also a Dungeons and Dragons strand to the plot, something outside my personal experience but which I’ve found featured by many fantasy authors suggesting it must be a formative part of their evolution into fantasy authors (just a theory).
This concludes a series of five books all set in the quiet agricultural hill country of contemporary Texas which I’ve thoroughly enjoyed. I guess all of us regular readers have an author we read who isn’t in the ‘bestseller lists’, not widely known, but who we think deserves far wider appreciation and accolades for their talents - this author is very much in that category for me, and only discovered about a year ago.
The books are each standalone stories and I think could be read in any sequence;
Letters from the Well in the Season of the Ghosts
To Awaken in Elysium
In Theory, it Works
As I Was on My Way to Strawberry Fair
The Stations of the Angels
The first three in the list I think would be widely accessible for their everyday, really well written stories with that subtle quirky magical realism undercurrent. The last two have maybe a heavier magical realism element and required more mental adjustment on my part as I read them (but enjoyed them enormously too after recalibrating my brain).
I think the author’s own summary of his series sums this series up well;
“I’m calling it the Texas Pentagraph. Five books about the same dull little area of central Texas. Each book is vaguely comic, adventurous, romantic, philosophical, even, possibly, magical.“
Give yourself a treat, pick up one of them and give it a go…
June 19, 2022
4.5/5 but I'll round it up.
The Devil arrives in Theory. Instead of a small-town reality and small-minded people, she finds the world’s only upside-down skating rink. A soap bubble dragon monster. A romance and a touch of drama.
Not to mention robot mice, cats, dogs, or an electric angel.
In Theory, it Works is light, whimsical, and fun. Think of it as a low-stakes rural coming-of-age fantasy romance. Except that the coming-of-age arc will probably be more relatable to parents or readers who’ve already gone through their coming-of-age arcs in life :) It’s written with humor, love, and a touch of melancholy.
The characters are charming and wholly relatable, even Marlon, the school bully. We get Marissa - a goth girl who loves black; Tyler - a shy and weird kid who speaks only to an imaginary hawk; Janine - a girl scout with a powerful roundhouse punch and a soft spot for boys who are broken; Reese and Jason - twins able to live in a moment. Marissa and Janine are interested in Tyler, who’s more interested in living in an imaginary world and stopping the Dragon. Jason is interested in Marissa, but she's not sure if she's interested in him. But fear not - it’s not a cheesy love triangle. Far from it.
The adult protagonists, science teacher Ted Alva, and The Devil, Nichole K. Devlin, can’t resist one another, but the Devil may have ulterior motives. Ted loves teaching but budget constraints don't allow him to go full out. As a result, he encourages teens to create ideas of things but not things themselves. Nichole has corporate money but why would she invest it in a meaningless city like Theory? Well, here's the thing:
"The town of Theory has an improbable tendency to permit the improbable. Here, the Theory of the thing is sometimes the thing itself."
Like most of St. Elmo’s books, In Theory, It Works is philosophical, humorous, and romantic. It’s full of quotable lines, intriguing thoughts, and metaphysical longings. It plays with narrative and contains stories within stories (including an exciting D&D session). The book touches on the darker side of the mentality of the little people (domestic violence, prejudice, parents on the brink of divorce), but with heart and gentle, humorous touches.
I'm a committed fan of St. Elmo's imaginative and unique writing. In Theory, It Works was a delight to read and think about. I found the story satisfying, intelligent, and the ending excellent and uplifting. Plenty here for fans of the whimsy.
The Devil arrives in Theory. Instead of a small-town reality and small-minded people, she finds the world’s only upside-down skating rink. A soap bubble dragon monster. A romance and a touch of drama.
Not to mention robot mice, cats, dogs, or an electric angel.
In Theory, it Works is light, whimsical, and fun. Think of it as a low-stakes rural coming-of-age fantasy romance. Except that the coming-of-age arc will probably be more relatable to parents or readers who’ve already gone through their coming-of-age arcs in life :) It’s written with humor, love, and a touch of melancholy.
The characters are charming and wholly relatable, even Marlon, the school bully. We get Marissa - a goth girl who loves black; Tyler - a shy and weird kid who speaks only to an imaginary hawk; Janine - a girl scout with a powerful roundhouse punch and a soft spot for boys who are broken; Reese and Jason - twins able to live in a moment. Marissa and Janine are interested in Tyler, who’s more interested in living in an imaginary world and stopping the Dragon. Jason is interested in Marissa, but she's not sure if she's interested in him. But fear not - it’s not a cheesy love triangle. Far from it.
The adult protagonists, science teacher Ted Alva, and The Devil, Nichole K. Devlin, can’t resist one another, but the Devil may have ulterior motives. Ted loves teaching but budget constraints don't allow him to go full out. As a result, he encourages teens to create ideas of things but not things themselves. Nichole has corporate money but why would she invest it in a meaningless city like Theory? Well, here's the thing:
"The town of Theory has an improbable tendency to permit the improbable. Here, the Theory of the thing is sometimes the thing itself."
Like most of St. Elmo’s books, In Theory, It Works is philosophical, humorous, and romantic. It’s full of quotable lines, intriguing thoughts, and metaphysical longings. It plays with narrative and contains stories within stories (including an exciting D&D session). The book touches on the darker side of the mentality of the little people (domestic violence, prejudice, parents on the brink of divorce), but with heart and gentle, humorous touches.
I'm a committed fan of St. Elmo's imaginative and unique writing. In Theory, It Works was a delight to read and think about. I found the story satisfying, intelligent, and the ending excellent and uplifting. Plenty here for fans of the whimsy.
July 22, 2022
When the Devil went down to Georgia, he was looking for soul to steal. He was in a bind cause he was way behind and he was willing to make a deal.
When the Devil went down to Texas, she was looking to make a deal. And she’d learned, there’s a science nerd, with inventions that can’t be real. Except in Theory.
Anjelica, Elysium, Hell, and Theory. Four seemingly sleepy Texas hill towns a casual visitor might want to see only as a dusty reflection in their rearview mirror. But not Nicole K Devlin.
No, no, no, no, no.
Nicky Devlin, or the Devil, a title she claims with a gleam and a wink, went down to Theory looking to make a deal. (Why Theory? Because everything is possible in Theory.) And she’d heard about that nerd whose heart was hers to steal.
Like any corporate professional, she’d done her homework. Which was appropriate because she headed straight for the Theory High School with a briefcase full of corporate money meant to tempt Ted Alva, the high school’s science teacher, to show and tell her about science projects constructed by generations of science students that were improbable and impossible anywhere else in the world. But in Theory they work.
But sometimes even the Devil is surprised by things that shouldn’t be possible. Even in Theory. Like Upside Down Skating Rinks. A beach that is nowhere near the ocean. A town square in which residents expound on their pet theories and a donut shop where discussion of theories is strictly forbidden. The town has a cat for a mayor. I would have voted for the dog.
The one thing that is never surprising is the joy of reading a book written by Raymond St. Elmo. They are always delightful, imaginative, witty, romantic, emotionally true, and satisfying. And that’s not just in Theory.
When the Devil went down to Texas, she was looking to make a deal. And she’d learned, there’s a science nerd, with inventions that can’t be real. Except in Theory.
Anjelica, Elysium, Hell, and Theory. Four seemingly sleepy Texas hill towns a casual visitor might want to see only as a dusty reflection in their rearview mirror. But not Nicole K Devlin.
No, no, no, no, no.
Nicky Devlin, or the Devil, a title she claims with a gleam and a wink, went down to Theory looking to make a deal. (Why Theory? Because everything is possible in Theory.) And she’d heard about that nerd whose heart was hers to steal.
Like any corporate professional, she’d done her homework. Which was appropriate because she headed straight for the Theory High School with a briefcase full of corporate money meant to tempt Ted Alva, the high school’s science teacher, to show and tell her about science projects constructed by generations of science students that were improbable and impossible anywhere else in the world. But in Theory they work.
But sometimes even the Devil is surprised by things that shouldn’t be possible. Even in Theory. Like Upside Down Skating Rinks. A beach that is nowhere near the ocean. A town square in which residents expound on their pet theories and a donut shop where discussion of theories is strictly forbidden. The town has a cat for a mayor. I would have voted for the dog.
The one thing that is never surprising is the joy of reading a book written by Raymond St. Elmo. They are always delightful, imaginative, witty, romantic, emotionally true, and satisfying. And that’s not just in Theory.
June 25, 2022
Another predictably excellent tale from Mr St. E.
This brings the ‘Texas Pentagraph’ series to a fun and fitting finale, but it prompts me to wonder which I now prefer: this or the Five Clans collection? Fortunate that we needn’t choose, I suppose. Wonderful reads, all.
My guess is that these will all be better-known some day; more widely celebrated for their wit, insight and the sheer poetic quality of the writing. Then we Goodreads folk will be able to say: “I knew this guy when he was just self-publishing. Look at him now…”
This brings the ‘Texas Pentagraph’ series to a fun and fitting finale, but it prompts me to wonder which I now prefer: this or the Five Clans collection? Fortunate that we needn’t choose, I suppose. Wonderful reads, all.
My guess is that these will all be better-known some day; more widely celebrated for their wit, insight and the sheer poetic quality of the writing. Then we Goodreads folk will be able to say: “I knew this guy when he was just self-publishing. Look at him now…”
August 7, 2022
Rule one for aspiring writers, characterization: start with caricatures and build from there. Don’t bog your readers down by starting from scratch, present them with something they already recognize, all the better to subvert those expectations, or to add nuance.
Much easier said than done, of course, especially the building part. Here we have a master class on how to get it right. We have a collection of standard tropes: the geek, the jock, the emo, the girl next door, the Tigger – there is even the earnest-but-cool bicycle-riding science teacher. All recognizable, but they all develop a life of their own and have you cheering them on. And despite the high character count, you never ever get mixed up about which one is which.
The prime exception is the Devil. You might expect her to be the most stocky of stock characters – instead she becomes the heart of the story by maintaining her ambiguity: a devil by nature or merely by nickname? A demon, or an imp with a heart of gold? This isn’t beginner class technique any more
Which is to say, while it may be the artistry of St Elmo prose that draws us in, there is a considerable amount of craft going on here as well.
Much easier said than done, of course, especially the building part. Here we have a master class on how to get it right. We have a collection of standard tropes: the geek, the jock, the emo, the girl next door, the Tigger – there is even the earnest-but-cool bicycle-riding science teacher. All recognizable, but they all develop a life of their own and have you cheering them on. And despite the high character count, you never ever get mixed up about which one is which.
The prime exception is the Devil. You might expect her to be the most stocky of stock characters – instead she becomes the heart of the story by maintaining her ambiguity: a devil by nature or merely by nickname? A demon, or an imp with a heart of gold? This isn’t beginner class technique any more
Which is to say, while it may be the artistry of St Elmo prose that draws us in, there is a considerable amount of craft going on here as well.
October 26, 2024
"Ted Alva disliked absurdity. It affronted his soul, as though someone stood behind the Standard Model of Physics making rabbit ears above its head." (pg. 75)
Clever and charming, as I've come to expect from this author. This is the sixth book I've read from Raymond St. Elmo, and while I didn't like it as much as some of the others, I've come to trust the author completely and find myself willing to follow wherever he wants to go. In our philistine culture that expects writers to cater to the broad-brush whims and egos of their reader or 'market', it is quite freeing to find a writer who is genuinely unique and who expects – without arrogance – that the reader of one of his titles will follow him down the strange and eccentric paths he forges. That is how it should be, the reader/writer relationship, and far from relegating or disrespecting the reader the dynamic actually allows them to be lifted or moved into places they didn't even know existed.
I didn't always understand the path I was led down in In Theory, it Works, one of St. Elmo's loosely-connected novels in the 'Texas Pentagraph' series, about comic, fantastical happenings in small-town Texas. (Think Stranger Things if it was written by Terry Pratchett.) In this book, things that are impossible elsewhere are possible 'in Theory' – the town of Theory, Texas, that is. The author gets a lot of mileage out of this pun, but also doesn't abuse it; the various impossible things that he has happen in the town are conceptually clever, such as a light that emits darkness, a device to reveal what occurs in empty rooms, and a perfect circle where Pi always equals three.
I couldn't help but compare the book to Letters from the Well in the Season of the Ghosts, which I much preferred. In Theory, it Works lacked the central character I could hang my hat on; when the sheriff from Season of the Ghosts, who was that character, makes a cameo here, I longed for him to stay. Ted Alva is a decent substitute in Theory, but there's so much going on in the book it's difficult to see him as the central character in practice. And because so much is going on, it's difficult to know what the stakes are, or where or why things are happening – particularly when, in Theory, anything can happen. (You can see why the author likes this wordplay; I've used it twice myself now in as many sentences.)
That said, I was always entertained by what was going on, even at the times when I didn't know what was going on. This book is not plot-driven; it's a sandbox, not a rollercoaster, and I am grateful that St. Elmo has allowed us to play in it.
Clever and charming, as I've come to expect from this author. This is the sixth book I've read from Raymond St. Elmo, and while I didn't like it as much as some of the others, I've come to trust the author completely and find myself willing to follow wherever he wants to go. In our philistine culture that expects writers to cater to the broad-brush whims and egos of their reader or 'market', it is quite freeing to find a writer who is genuinely unique and who expects – without arrogance – that the reader of one of his titles will follow him down the strange and eccentric paths he forges. That is how it should be, the reader/writer relationship, and far from relegating or disrespecting the reader the dynamic actually allows them to be lifted or moved into places they didn't even know existed.
I didn't always understand the path I was led down in In Theory, it Works, one of St. Elmo's loosely-connected novels in the 'Texas Pentagraph' series, about comic, fantastical happenings in small-town Texas. (Think Stranger Things if it was written by Terry Pratchett.) In this book, things that are impossible elsewhere are possible 'in Theory' – the town of Theory, Texas, that is. The author gets a lot of mileage out of this pun, but also doesn't abuse it; the various impossible things that he has happen in the town are conceptually clever, such as a light that emits darkness, a device to reveal what occurs in empty rooms, and a perfect circle where Pi always equals three.
I couldn't help but compare the book to Letters from the Well in the Season of the Ghosts, which I much preferred. In Theory, it Works lacked the central character I could hang my hat on; when the sheriff from Season of the Ghosts, who was that character, makes a cameo here, I longed for him to stay. Ted Alva is a decent substitute in Theory, but there's so much going on in the book it's difficult to see him as the central character in practice. And because so much is going on, it's difficult to know what the stakes are, or where or why things are happening – particularly when, in Theory, anything can happen. (You can see why the author likes this wordplay; I've used it twice myself now in as many sentences.)
That said, I was always entertained by what was going on, even at the times when I didn't know what was going on. This book is not plot-driven; it's a sandbox, not a rollercoaster, and I am grateful that St. Elmo has allowed us to play in it.
September 2, 2024
If you took the story of Glee but replaced cringe with charm and subbed magic for singing, I think you'd get this universe. Theory, Texas is a unique place where anything can happen, and the author really explored that in this story. With such a variety of situations and a wide cast of characters, it was hard not to find something enjoyable in here. At times, I found the POV jumps to lean more nonsensical (distracting) instead of nonsensical (fun), but it's a good time overall. For me, focus could have shifted slightly to include fewer characters in more depth rather than covering as many as possible to varying degrees. Tyler's imagined world added less to the story than I think Marissa's spelunking or Jesse's character discovery would have. Not to mention some of the other mysteries... I have a lot more questions about Tyler than just what's going on in his imagination! Because of this, the plot never felt extremely strong; I knew where we were going moment-by-moment but never understood exactly what was the main goal of the group. It was clear where the inciting incident, climax, and falling action happened, but I couldn't have identified what exactly led us there. Generally speaking, though, the personality and fun outweigh my complaints, and this book wins an easy prize for the best self-published book I've read so far. (Typos and grammar issues were frequent, though, so I recommend the author finds someone to be an editor. Most frequent were comma splices and run-on sentences, but the worst offender was when Nicole became Nichole only for the last 100 pages.)
Content warnings for child abuse (brief), mental health, animal death, bullying, and sexual misconduct (brief).
Used for 2024 r/Fantasy Bingo (self-published; hard mode); also fits set in a small town (hard mode), multi-POV (hard mode), under the surface, , and romantasy (arguably).
Content warnings for child abuse (brief), mental health, animal death, bullying, and sexual misconduct (brief).
Used for 2024 r/Fantasy Bingo (self-published; hard mode); also fits set in a small town (hard mode), multi-POV (hard mode), under the surface, , and romantasy (arguably).
June 13, 2023
"Invention is the talent of youth, as judgment is of age."—Jonathan Swift
When the Devil gets wind of an upcoming high school science fair in the little town of Theory, Texas, her interest is piqued, as the kids of Theory have a remarkable talent for turning off-the-wall concepts into working contraptions. With the infusion of enough cash (which the Devil has wads of) to allow the kids to build the machines of their wildest dreams, who knows what diabolically clever devices she might midwife into existence? The Devil, it turns out, is a venture capitalist. Who knew—I mean, apart from everyone?
Raymond St. Elmo takes that premise (with its wonderful and noble literary ancestry, in which I unabashedly include “The Forbidden Planet”), and creates a novel that sings. Talk about turning an off-the-wall concept into something that actually works—you have to wonder where Raymond grew up . . .
A big part of the magic for me in this novel is the love Raymond gives details that a lesser writer would gloss over. It would be easy to throw out the concept of a town where the best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men always work as designed, and leave it at that, but Raymond takes it a step further, presenting certifiably crazy ideas to the reader in such a way that the reader is left scratching their head and thinking, well, why not?
Maybe it’s this crazy world we live in today. A plague of solar powered, crowd-funded, e-evolving mice? Is that any crazier than an epidemic of Tide pod swallowers? An upside-down skating rink? Impossible. Probably. But you know, if the steel was grooved just so . . . oh stop it!
I’m not going to attempt to iterate through everything else I liked about this novel, but I will mention the nice effect the author creates of how children of a certain age and their parents live lives that seem close only in the geographical sense, but somehow manage to intersect at critical junctures. Therein lies a glimmer of hope. With a little help from their parents (and each other), the kids will be all right. That’s not to say they won’t create their id monsters—they inevitably will, but that’s okay—if they didn’t, how would they ever destroy them?
When the Devil gets wind of an upcoming high school science fair in the little town of Theory, Texas, her interest is piqued, as the kids of Theory have a remarkable talent for turning off-the-wall concepts into working contraptions. With the infusion of enough cash (which the Devil has wads of) to allow the kids to build the machines of their wildest dreams, who knows what diabolically clever devices she might midwife into existence? The Devil, it turns out, is a venture capitalist. Who knew—I mean, apart from everyone?
Raymond St. Elmo takes that premise (with its wonderful and noble literary ancestry, in which I unabashedly include “The Forbidden Planet”), and creates a novel that sings. Talk about turning an off-the-wall concept into something that actually works—you have to wonder where Raymond grew up . . .
A big part of the magic for me in this novel is the love Raymond gives details that a lesser writer would gloss over. It would be easy to throw out the concept of a town where the best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men always work as designed, and leave it at that, but Raymond takes it a step further, presenting certifiably crazy ideas to the reader in such a way that the reader is left scratching their head and thinking, well, why not?
Maybe it’s this crazy world we live in today. A plague of solar powered, crowd-funded, e-evolving mice? Is that any crazier than an epidemic of Tide pod swallowers? An upside-down skating rink? Impossible. Probably. But you know, if the steel was grooved just so . . . oh stop it!
I’m not going to attempt to iterate through everything else I liked about this novel, but I will mention the nice effect the author creates of how children of a certain age and their parents live lives that seem close only in the geographical sense, but somehow manage to intersect at critical junctures. Therein lies a glimmer of hope. With a little help from their parents (and each other), the kids will be all right. That’s not to say they won’t create their id monsters—they inevitably will, but that’s okay—if they didn’t, how would they ever destroy them?
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