Review of "Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children"

"I had just come to accept that my life would be ordinary when extraordinary things began to happen."

     When it comes to Ransom Riggs' Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children, "peculiar" is definitely the adjective of the day. Jacob Portman is a fifteen-year-old misfit who hates his rich, boring life. When he was little, stories of his grandfather's childhood exploits had him yearning to become an explorer; now, with Grandpa Portman on the decline, he only pities the old man. Grandpa's overactive imagination, which once transformed his horrific childhood as a Jew during the Second World War into tales of monsters and magical children, has him convinced those monsters are real and very, very near. When Grandpa dies a mysterious and gory death, Jacob decides to honor his final request by visiting the island orphanage where he grew up. The only problem? The orphanage is in ruins, the children and headmistress long dead. But as Jacob explores the ruins, it becomes apparent that nothing here is normal--and the children may still be alive.

     In Miss Peregrine's Home, photographs are as important as prose, and almost as common. Between pages of floating, invisible, and otherwise peculiar children and Mr. Portman's despair over his ornithology failures are photos documenting them. These are real-life images that have been scanned into a computer and printed directly onto the page--an intriguing new form of illustration. However, it's almost annoying how often these pictures are mentioned; the word "photo" appears almost as often as "I" and "you", and there are moments when they seem almost pointless, as though the author adjusted the story unnecessarily to allow space for the image within the narrative. Still, they add a neat, quirky touch.

     Jacob's character is complex, full of ups and downs that shape him into a fairly realistic person. The problem lies in his general unlikable nature and his emotional distance from the reader; Riggs often tells us what he is feeling rather than showing it. That doesn't deter Jacob from diving headfirst into a mysterious, interesting, and absorbing plot, though; he ventures from city to village to bog, from modern-day Florida to a timeless island that is quite literally full of magic. Along the way, he befriends several kids with peculiar attributes, who help him not only uncover shocking secrets about Grandpa's past, but also discover a hidden strength he would never have suspected he possessed. The romance, when it comes, feels forced and awkward, especially given the circumstances in which it occurs. The love interest is a great character, though, well-rounded and full of strength.

     Though this story isn't very violent, it has its fair share of gore. From Grandpa's torn-up carcass to a man's sudden death at the hands of a bullet to the brain, blood and guts are relatively commonplace. The author does achieve a delicate balance between graphic and over-the-top, but there is still enough detail involved that handing Miss Peregrine's Home to a younger reader is not recommended. Also note-worthy is the language; while F-bombs are avoided, other words of equal strength are used regularly, and there are one or two crude references. Romance-wise, however, Jacob's story is clean as a whistle.

     I would recommend this book to older readers searching for an interesting story about a boy whose quest to understand his grandfather may very well change the world. Ranson Riggs' world is intriguing, filled to the brim with quirky characters and fleshed-out locales. Though there is a plenty of foul language and a good deal of gore, this is mostly balanced out by the ever-moving plot. The photographs featured lend the account a haunting, surreal air that really captures the spirit of the tale and inspires speculation on how the images were achieved. Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children may not be a must-read, but it is definitely one to watch out for. It deserves four peculiar stars.