Update:
To the Crispin fans coming out of the woodwork: I wrote this review many moons ago for my 4 friends who use Goodreads. I don’t think Goodreads allows me to set my reviews to private, unfortunately. So glad you found a book you love, nothing better than that. I’m sure there are many books we mutually enjoy. Stay classy, folks!
Original review:
This book won a Newberry Medal, which sounds about right, seeing as it’s an absolute dud. It will be the perfect companion for Island of the Blue Dolphins... This is the kind of book that my elementary teachers would’ve loved because it’s historical and contains enough teachable moments to give them some easy essay prompts. It’s also the kind of book that makes students think they hate reading and vow to never pick up a book again because MY GOSH, this is so boring!!
For example, let’s look at what could have been an exciting scene: Crispin sneaks into the castle to rescue his friend/master/father figure/creepy mentor, Bear. Now, imagine for a second how you’d expect a scene like this to be written. Perhaps our valiant hero Crispin (lol) would be lurking through the shadows, his hand against a wall, trying to find his way through the dark to the dungeon. Perhaps he would hear footsteps coming down the corridor and have to quickly duck for cover, his heart thudding in his ears. Perhaps he would drop something and there would be a huge racket, and he’d freeze and hold his breath until he knew that no one had heard. Perhaps his fingers would be trembling as he fumbled through picking a lock. OR, PERHAPS, wouldn’t it be better if Crispin instead took this time to lallygag and discuss the exact architecture of the castle?? YES, Avi says, YES YES YES!!
So, as Crispin walks down the hallway on his meandering, lackadaisical Sunday stroll, er, I mean, search for Bear, he opens a door, and what he sees makes him GASP. End of chapter. Wow, what did he see?? We must keep reading! What a cliff hanger! What could cause our strong and steady and emotional rock Crispin (lol) to gasp?? Maybe there is a guard waiting in the room? Maybe he’s walked in on a torture chamber? Maybe he sees Bear, all bruised and bloodied? LOL, you goof balls! No way! Crispin could care less about that useless crap. He ain’t about dem cheap thrills. He GASPS because he’s just entered a chapel and he’s never seen a ceiling so high! I mean, can you blame him?? It’s even higher than some other random chapel ceiling that Crispin knows and is a super relevant and helpful reference for us 21st century readers! Omg, so glad I kept reading! But more than that, I’m overjoyed that he spends an ENTIRE CHAPTER making observations about the chapel room because we JUST CANNOT GET ENOUGH! And I’m so glad he doesn’t waste time making his sentences flow nicely. As the saying goes, Crispin ain’t hoppy if the sentence ain’t choppy. It reads like (not an exact quote), “There were four tall pillars. Behind these, there was a stained glass window. In front of that were candles that were burned about a fourth of the way down. Then to the right...” And the Newbery Medal judges in the background declare, “Folks, we have a winner!!”
Now, when you read this book, there may be some confusion as to Crispin’s religion. Is he Muslim? Or was it Buddhist? Oh, wait no, I remember, he was Catholic, because references were made to his Catholicism like fifty billion times per chapter. Now, I’m not against religion in literature by any means, but you could literally make a drinking game for every time Crispin “fell to my knees!” Or for every time Bear says, “By the blood of Christ, by the holy heart of St Peter, by the kidney stones of St Jude, by the acne cream of the angels in heaven!” Guaranteed to be blackout drunk by the end of the book.
On top of all of this, the writing just isn’t good. The sentences are choppy, the characters are dull (and Crispin is so whiny!), the plot is predictable, the story was lifeless, and the deus ex machina appears to be Avi’s favorite plot device. Also, the vocab in this bad boy is ridiculous, as though Avi were just trying his darnedest to be beloved by teachers across America, who would no doubt hand out vocab worksheets to their poor little blameless students with each chapter. I’m 25, and not necessarily a total ignoramus, and some of the words Crispin-the-illiterate-uneducated-serf was dropping like hot potatoes were unbeknownst to me. (Avi would probably approve of the word “unbeknownst.”)
This is the first Avi book I’ve read, and by the spray tan of St Anne, I do hope it’s the last.