Cassidy Jones and the Seventh Attendant: An independent novel review

Before you say it, I know: I am not in the target demographic for this book, or any of Elise Stokes’ Cassidy Jones adventures. Still, I enjoy reading them — despite the strange looks I get from others on the bus when I’m reading the latest installment in paper form.

Elise Stokes hit it big with her first novel, Cassidy Jones and the Secret Formula. After being reviewed by a 13-year-old reader, it was picked up by a middle-grade school as assigned reading. Then it won some awards and Elise Stokes became a prominent author of middle-grade or “young adult” fiction.

She followed up her first book in a year with Cassidy Jones and Vulcan’s Gift, but there was a longer delay for the third book. Now that I’ve read it, I understand why.

The plot

As most of the English reading world knows — at least, most of the “YA” market — Cassidy Jones is a normal teenage girl from Seattle. She’s awkward, lacks confidence and isn’t particularly athletic. Then, in true superhero fashion, she’s accidentally dosed with top-secret “Formula 10X,” being developed in her neighbour’s basement lab, which gives her super-strength, speed, the ability to heal quickly and enhanced senses. With the help of her neighbour’s son, Emery, another 14-year-old whose genius IQ has earned him university degrees already, Cassidy foils nefarious plots, rescues her kidnapped father and fights escaped tigers.

In this installment, the bad guys from the first novel return, searching for Formula 10X — which was destroyed in a fire after Cassidy’s accident. It turns out that the specifications were hidden in 10 separate microchips, scattered around the world. The baddies have recovered nine of them (using murder at least once); the last piece is hidden in an ancient Egyptian headdress on display in a museum in Seattle. Emery, Cassidy’s genius sidekick, learns of a plot to steal the chip, so Cassidy dresses as a mummy to spook the bad guys. This has some funny consequences, such as new rumours about a resurrected mummy running around the streets of Seattle.  

But when one of the thieves turns out to be Emery’s father, the mysterious Gavin Phillips, the plot twists — and so do Cassidy’s emotions.

High quality

The third book is a little darker and more serious than the first two. Cassidy is growing up and dealing with a new level of emotions when it comes to boys. Boys are starting to pay attention to her, as well, in ways that are new to her. 

And there’s a love triangle slowly emerging. I think that Stokes portrayed her character’s reaction to that skillfully and believably: it’s plain to Cassidy, but she deliberately chooses not to think about it. I can believe that in a 15-year-old who’s trying to deal with some pretty extraordinary events in her life.

Stokes also spends more space in this novel describing the stress her character has to deal with from having a secret identity—a second life that she has to hide from her own family.

And as with Stokes’ first two novels, the third shows top-notch writing style, editing and production — and a gorgeous cover designed by David C. Cassidy. A fellow member of Independent Authors International, Stokes is living proof that independent writers produce work that meets and exceeds professional standards.

Less action

There is not as much action in this book as in the first two. Cassidy seems to spend more time stressing over her relationships with her friends, rivals, unwanted suitors and her family than she does fighting bad guys. To me, this made for a more interesting story, but I wonder how Cassidy fans feel?

The other slight weakness I found in this story is that you really have to have read at least the first novel to follow this one. The bad guys from both previous novels combine forces in this one. The text also refers to characters and events from the other novels. I kept having to try to recall the previous books to understand some of the plot points in the third (it’s been over a year since I read them, after all, and I’m not getting younger, either).

But those are minor nits to pick out. This is another excellent novel by one of the best writers in the MG/YA field today. There’s lots of room left in the story-arc, too, so we can all look forward to Cassidy Jones and the Luminous soon.

5*

Now out: the third Cassidy Jones Adventure

One of my favourite middle-grade adventure superheroes is Cassidy Jones. The brainchild of independent author Elise Stokes, Cassidy Jones became a hit about a year and half ago, when a middle school in the US took Stokes’ debut novel, Cassidy Jones and the Secret Formula, as a school project. And now, you can enter a Rafflecopter contest to win all three e-books: Win ALL THREE Cassidy Jones books! Just enter this Rafflecopter: Rafflecopter giveaway.

I know I’m not the intended audience for Cassidy Jones, but I was impressed by the sheer quality of the writing. Stokes is a writer who clearly loves the language and has the skill to use it to create interesting, believable characters in compelling situations. She knows plot and pacing and how to describe action and setting, and when to leave the description to the readers’ imagination.

The follow-up novel, Cassidy Jones and Vulcan’s Gift, took the story to greater strengths, developing the secondary characters more along with Cassidy herself, and filling in some enticing details about Cassidy’s mysterious neighbour—and catalyst in turning Cassidy into a superhero.

Now, the third book in the series is out: Cassidy Jones and the Seventh Attendant. What’s it about?

 

Some Secrets Are Better Left Buried…

When the mysterious Gavin Phillips returns to Seattle after a prolonged and unexplained absence, he threatens to expose fifteen-year-old Cassidy Jones’s incredible secret: she is a superhero. But his presence is far more sinister than she realizes, for it soon becomes apparent that his hidden agenda holds a dark and dangerous intent that will unleash an unparalleled evil upon an unsuspecting world. Can Cassidy stop him before all is lost?

For your entertainment, here’s a sample:

A police car screamed past me as I veered off Fifth Avenue and into an alley. Sirens came from every direction on their way to the museum. I ran until I was sure no one was pursuing me and slid into the shadows of a doorway to assess the damage. A small cry of panic tore from my throat when I saw the ravaged costume, spotted with blood. I had been shot so many times, it was a miracle I hadn’t been cut in half.

“No, no, no, no,” I chanted, worming a trembling finger into a bullet hole. Due to the hardness of my skin, I couldn’t feel anything through my numbed fingertips, so I ripped away the costume and lifted the black tank underneath, exposing my stomach, which was peppered with bullets. They reminded me of corks lodged in wine bottles. Small amounts of blood burbled up around the bullets, as if they plugged a dam.

Tears of relief smarted my eyes. This was one of those rare occasions when I was grateful to be a mutant.

“It’s going to be okay. These can be removed. I’ll heal.” I dried my eyes with my forearm and suddenly realized I couldn’t hear Emery in the earpiece, nor the background noise of the coffeehouse. We had somehow lost our phone connection. I retrieved my phone and punched the speed dial.

“Are you all right?” Emery answered. The sounds of sirens,the museum’s alarm, talking, shouting, and a police officer on a megaphone flowed through the receiver along with his voice. “Cassidy,” he said again when I didn’t answer.

“I don’t know what to do.” I wiped back a sudden flood of tears with the tattered sleeve of my mummy costume. “My head’s scrambled. I can’t think straight.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“Yeah.” I glanced around. “No. I’m not sure. It’s weird that I can’t feel any pain. I should feel pain.”

“Cassidy, listen carefully,” Emery said slowly and calmly,which meant he wasn’t calm at all. “You’re only four blocks from Riley’s office—”

“How do you know—” I began to ask, then remembered GPS. I struck my forehead with my palm in an attempt to clear the haze.

“You’ll be fine,” Emery soothed. “I’ll take care of you. Please concentrate.”

He explained how to get to the back of Riley’s building through alleys, avoiding the main streets. I would have known this if I could think properly.

“There are a lot of people on the streets now, so take care not to be seen. I’m only two blocks away from Riley’s office. I’ll let you in through the emergency exit in back. Everything will be fine, Cassidy. This is almost over. Repeat back to me everything I just told you.”

I tried but couldn’t. The bullets felt heavy in my stomach. A horrifying thought struck me: What if my skin suddenly softens and the bullets get swallowed up in my flesh?

“Hurry, Emery.” I disconnected the call and shot toward the street. We need to get these bullets out of me!

At the street, I looked around, recognizing where I was—or believing I did. Spying an alley, I ran across the street toward it, leaping over a parked car. I saw two men and a woman in the alley ahead. One man held a switchblade to the other man’s throat while the woman riffled through his pockets. I moved so fast, none of them saw me until the mugger with the switchblade was yanked off his feet by the back of his jacket collar.

“Help!” he screamed as I dragged him behind me, arms flailing, boot heels bumping along the asphalt.

I emerged from the alley into a street bustling with activity and flung the mugger toward an oncoming police car. Lights flashing,siren blaring, the police car screeched to a halt and the mugger hit the hood,tumbling over it with the switchblade still gripped in his hand.

I jammed the cell phone between my teeth and took a flying leap at the nearest building, catching a windowsill on the second floor. I scaled the protruding bricks as swiftly as a spider scurrying up a wall and heaved myself over the ledge and onto the roof. Pausing to catch my breath, I spat the phone into my hand and looked down. A small crowd had gathered below to gape at me.

The dazed mugger, sprawled atop the police car, dropped his switchblade, which clattered across the hood and onto the asphalt. The officer in the passenger’s seat stared up at me with a radio microphone to his mouth,but his lips weren’t moving, as if he were at a loss about how to call in what he had just witnessed.

Get Cassidy Jones and the Seventh Attendant at:

Amazon USA

Amazon UK

Barnes & Noble

BONUS:

 

Writing style: Interview with author Gary Henry

In my continuing quest to define the essence of writing style, I have asked a good author-friend, Gary Henry, for his thoughts.

Gary Henry

Gary’s novel American Goddesses crosses a number of genres. Set in the contemporary American Midwest, it features superheroines and spies, a little sex, a hefty dash of romance and lots of action. Combining these genres takes — well, a lot of style.

In addition, Gary has published a collection of short stories titled What Happened to Jory and Other Dark Departures, and The Moon Poem and Other Strange Jingle-Jangles, a collection of poetry. Gary also reviews independent novels on his blog, Honest Indie Book Reviews. His Twitter handle is @LiteraryGary.

How would you describe your own writing style?

I like to think of my writing style as “snappy” – using active-voice and vivid verbs to the best of my ability. I try to vary sentence length and incorporate colorful description.

Are there any authors whose style you admire? Do you try to emulate them?

John Steinbeck is my idol, but too far removed from my own skill level for me to attempt to emulate. Probably Robert E. Howard is my biggest influence. I grew up reading his lurid prose – not just “Conan the Barbarian,” but many of the stories he wrote for Weird Tales and other pulps, reprinted in later collections. “Pigeons from Hell” was a particular favorite. Thought it was the scariest thing I ever read, when I happened upon it at 10 years old. Still makes me shudder.

Are there authors whose writing style you dislike?

No one comes to mind. I invariably find something to like in everything I read. The Silmarillion by Tolkien is one book I’ve made repeated unsuccessful attempts to get through. I devoured the Lord of the Rings trilogy at an early age, however.

How important is your writing style to you? Are you happy with your style, or are there aspects of it you try to change during rewriting or editing?

My writing style is an intimate part of who I am. I’m happy with it. I know it’s good and I can technically show why. However, I understand it can still be improved. Going through my work, I still find instances of passive voice, wordiness, lame verbs and other weak areas. Punctuation, especially commas and dashes, is a particular weakness.

Two who have helped me improve my writing during rewrites and editing are Scott Bury and Melissa Foster, both masters of their craft. I’m not the only one they’ve helped, either.

How can readers identify your writing style? Are there particular words or kinds of words that you tend to favour? Sentence structures? Or is it more in the story, the pacing or the characters?

I think it would be difficult to identify me or any author just from an unfamiliar passage of writing. I try, not always successfully, to keep words to one or two syllables. I vary sentence structure and length. I try to vary pacing in the longer works. But these are things many of us attempt.

Do you think your genre imposes certain restrictions on writing style?

If so, I don’t pay attention. That’s why I bill my first novel, American Goddesses, as a “sexy superheroine paranormal romantic sci-fi fantasy thriller.” The story blithely invades the territory of multiple genres, from romance to sci-fi.

I read a few romance novels, actually, to learn the elements: The Merry-Go-Round by Donna Fasano and If We Dare to Dream by Collette Scott. They were good!

Do you think your audience responds to your writing style, consciously or unconsciously?

Hard to say. All the reviews of my novel, short stories and poems have dealt with content — plot and character — rather than writing style. I’m sure readers must respond to writing style on some level. I’ve seen nothing to support that regarding my own writing, however.

How important do you think writing style is to an author's commercial success?

There are as many writing styles as there are writers — perhaps more. There’s no question that a few styles occasionally capture the popular imagination and catapult the books to varying degrees of success. No one knows why those styles of writing hit. My guess is it’s a combination of luck, work and circumstance.

I believe we increase our odds of hitting the popular imagination by taking as many shots as we can. We can increase the odds by trying to improve our writing skills as much as possible.

In the end, there’s just no formula. Why does a demonstrably poorly written novel like Fifty Shades of Gray succeed, while many similar knock-offs, and many more far superior books don’t get off the ground? No one knows.

Trying to achieve success by imitating the style of a successful book is not something I’d recommend, On the other hand — who knows what the beast will find appetizing on any given day, at any given time?

For my part, I’ll just continue to refine my own style until it completely suits one particular beast — me.

Thank you very much, Gary.

What do you think, readers? What elements of style are important to you? Does a writer's style make a difference to your response to a book or other work? Would you buy or recommend an author solely because of his or her style?