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A review by jjp723
The Screaming Staircase by Jonathan Stroud
5.0
Absolutely fantastic. The writing is perfect, the characters are just the right amount of quirky, awkward, tough and real, and the story was both scary-enough and funny-enough to keep both me (I am well beyond the target age of middle school ... in fact, when I was in middle school it was called junior high, that's how beyond it I am :)) and my 5 year old (not the super scary parts, mind you, just the mildly scary parts)entertained. Very highly recommended!
*I leaned forward, took the final two cookies from the plate, and sat back, crunching. It was one of those moments when a great Don't Care wave hits you, and you float off on it, head back, looking at the sky. I was tired. It was my seventh interview in as many days. Well, I'd done all I could, and if Lockwood and this stupid George didn't choose to appreciate it - that really didn't bother me anymore.*
*There was plenty of noise around, in other words. But when I listened, it was something else I heard. A silence. The deeper silence of the house. I sensed it all around me, sentient and aware. That silence stretched away from me, along the corridors and levels, up that great stone flight of stairs, through open doors and under lonely windows, on and on, to an ever more frightening distance. There wasn't any end to it. The house was just the gate. The silence continued forever. And it was waiting for us - I could feel it waiting. I had the impression of something towering over me, massive and clifflike, ready to crash down on my head.
*I looked over my shoulder at the gravel driveway and the park beyond. Light drained across the winter countryside. Out in the fields, furrows filled with shadow; soon they'd brim over and flood the land with spreading dark, and the silence in the house would stir ...*
*I leaned forward, took the final two cookies from the plate, and sat back, crunching. It was one of those moments when a great Don't Care wave hits you, and you float off on it, head back, looking at the sky. I was tired. It was my seventh interview in as many days. Well, I'd done all I could, and if Lockwood and this stupid George didn't choose to appreciate it - that really didn't bother me anymore.*
*There was plenty of noise around, in other words. But when I listened, it was something else I heard. A silence. The deeper silence of the house. I sensed it all around me, sentient and aware. That silence stretched away from me, along the corridors and levels, up that great stone flight of stairs, through open doors and under lonely windows, on and on, to an ever more frightening distance. There wasn't any end to it. The house was just the gate. The silence continued forever. And it was waiting for us - I could feel it waiting. I had the impression of something towering over me, massive and clifflike, ready to crash down on my head.
*I looked over my shoulder at the gravel driveway and the park beyond. Light drained across the winter countryside. Out in the fields, furrows filled with shadow; soon they'd brim over and flood the land with spreading dark, and the silence in the house would stir ...*