Three Quarters Dead by Richard Peck (NY: Dial, 2010).
Ugh. Don't bother with this one. I mean, look at that lame cover, just for starters. I guess the story is supposed to be scary, but honestly, it was just lame. The main character Kerry is a pathetic sophomore with no friends who sits alone at lunch (boo hoo!) but then miraculously gets selected to be friends with a ruling clique. There's no rhyme or reason for this sudden elevation, except her very lameness, as it turns out. The writing is dry (of all things) with plenty of telling, but no showing, and I never connected with Kerry. She felt more like someone's wrong-headed idea of a a real teen-aged girl than an actual girl with whom one could empathize. There's not even any romance to redeem this novel. I've read some of Peck's other novels, and they're plenty lively, so who knows what happened here. It's a desultory attempt at catching the paranormal wave that falls flat. Not recommended.
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