Bookweird

Norman Jespers-Vilnius is just an average eleven-year-old kid—until he absentmindedly nibbles on the edge of a page and wakes up inside his favourite book, the Undergrowth Series. Norman finds himself smack in the middle of an epic battle of animal kingdoms, where he forms a close friendship with young Malcolm, a future king. After joining Malcolm's fight he winds up back in his own bed, dirty and in torn pyjamas. But his adventures have only just started. It soon becomes clear that Norman has been caught by a mystifying force called "Bookweird"— Norman finds himself inside books his family is reading, mixing up plotlines. When he tries to undo an act of violence in his sister's horse novel, he has to explain the appearance of a pony to some disgruntled policemen at a crime scene in his mother's favourite thriller. Can Norman put all of the stories back on track and return these fictional worlds to normal? Or will Bookweird trap him in the pages forever?

Award-winning author Paul Glennon has created a breathtaking, fast-paced story for adventurers of all ages. Paul Glennon is the author of The Dodecahedron, or a Frame for Frames, which was a finalist for the 2006 Governor General's Literary Award for fiction and was selected as one of The Globe and Mail's 100 Best Books of the Year. He lives in Ottawa, where he works in the software industry. Things Begin to Fall Apart

The weekend started out well for Norman Jespers-Vilnius. Saturday morning and the first one out of bed—Mom, Dad and Dora were still sleeping when he climbed the stairs back up to his bedroom with a stack of peanut butter and toast. The toast lasted maybe half an hour and three hand-to-hand battles through the third level of Castle Keep. He played with one hand on the controller, the other shuttling toast to his mouth from the plate on his lap. When last of the ice moths of level 3 had been dispatched, Norman paused the computer, freezing his character in mid victory celebration, fist and battle axe raised, eyes blazing with orange pixels behind the hoisted visor of his helm. This called for more toast, which Norman supplemented this time with a large glass of milk and a bowl of pretzels. A hero's work is hungry work.

Norman spent the next few hours like this, seated sideways in his desk chair, skinny legs dangling off the side, a plate of peanut butter toast balanced in his lap, milk and pretzels within reach of his left hand and his right hand gripping the controller. The food required no attention at all—it would be eaten whether he was conscious of it or not. His eyes never strayed from the computer screen before him.

Level 4 of Castle Keep had some surprises in store. The broadsword that had dealt destruction to the beasts and enemies of the first three levels was useless to him here. The phantasmagorical warriors of level 4 were immune to sharpened steel, and Norman's character had precious little magic to keep them at bay. Only his shield, bathed in the magical waters of Avalon on level 2, was of any use to him against the Spirit Knights.

It took some getting used to. Norman lost track of the number of times he was killed, overwhelmed by the massed phantasmagoricals and enveloped in a mist that sent him back to the start of the level, but he was getting the hang of it. The trick was speed. You couldn't stand and fight against these things; you just rushed through the castle labyrinth as fast as you could, ducking swiftly behind the shield when necessary.

He was vaguely aware of the rest of the house waking around him, but the world outside his bedroom door was so much less real than the world within the computer screen. He didn't count how many times he told his sister Dora bluntly to go away. It was his instinctive reaction every time the door squeaked, and it usually worked. Some whiny retort always came back, but he ignored it. Dora might have said "I'm going to tell Mom."