I'm going to be blunt: this is one of the worst, most infuriating books I have ever had the displeasure of reading. I’m 22, so I’m clearly not the intended audience, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still love reading children’s books. In fact, I adore kids’ literature. I grew up devouring Diary of a Wimpy Kid, Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, Roald Dahl, and Lemony Snicket. These are books that shaped my childhood, books that made me laugh, think, and grow. But this... this is just a trainwreck in every possible way.
Let me start by saying, I was a G.T. (gifted and talented) kid. And trust me, A.J. is the complete antithesis of everything a G.T. kid stands for. If I had spent my money on this book as a child, I would have been utterly horrified. Luckily, my younger sibling picked it up from the library for Halloween, and I—against all better judgment—decided to take a look. I’m honestly shocked that this was ever published. The sheer level of immaturity, the glaringly bad character development, and the utterly ridiculous plot make this feel like a half-baked mess, created by someone who has absolutely no understanding of children or how to write a decent story.
First off, let’s talk about A.J. This kid is a nightmare—a pure embodiment of everything wrong with how children are often portrayed in bad literature. A.J. hates school, hates his classmates, hates everything. He’s rude, inconsiderate, and spends the entire book mocking others, bullying people for their appearances and interests, and consistently making horrible, cruel statements like, “I hate her,” “You’re dumb,” and “Shut up.” Where is the lesson here? Where is the growth? Instead, the book teaches kids that it’s okay to be a mean-spirited, disrespectful little monster, and worst of all, there are no consequences for any of it. A.J.’s behavior is ignored, brushed aside, and it’s just... okay? That’t even get me started on the “gifted” part. A.J. is supposed to be a G.T. kid, but he’s the complete opposite of what any G.T. student actually is. G.T. kids are curious, introspective, empathetic, and emotionally intelligent. They are not petty, vindictive little bullies. I don’t know where this author got the idea that being gifted somehow makes you into a self-absorbed, egotistical brat, but trust me—there is absolutely nothing in this book that even remotely resembles the experience of being in a G.T. program. The author has completely misunderstood what it means to be gifted. The constant focus on A.J.'s superiority complex, and the mockery of anyone who isn’t in his “special” club, just feels cruel, misguided, and frankly, insulting.
Then there’s the humor—or lack thereof. This book is so painfully over-the-top, it’s unbearable. A.J.’s jokes and insults are so repetitive, they could put you to sleep. The constant “I hate this” and “You’re dumb” phrases are not funny—they’re toxic. This isn’t quirky or funny writing, it’s a shallow attempt at humor that just falls flat. I have spent years observing children, watching my younger siblings and cousins, volunteering with kids, and working in schools, and I’ve never, ever seen kids talk or act like A.J. They don’t focus on every little detail to make someone feel bad or deliberately go out of their way to cause hurt. This book misrepresents children in the most frustrating way possible.
Let’s talk about the costumes. What elementary school ever allowed a child to wear something like this? In this book, A.J. and his friends show up with axes and fake blood running down their faces for Halloween. What?! In my elementary school, we had strict rules. No weapons, no blood, no gore—nothing that could make anyone feel unsafe or uncomfortable. These kids would have been sent home, no questions asked. But in this book? Apparently it’s fine to run around dressed as walking, talking slasher movie characters. It’s ridiculous. It’s dangerous. And it completely misses the mark of what Halloween is about for kids—fun, silly costumes, not gore and violence.
Now, we have the infamous T.P. scene. T.P-ing houses? Really? That’s a middle school or high school thing! In my experience, elementary school kids aren’t out there causing mischief of that nature. They’re playing tag, riding bikes, trading Pokemon cards—T.P-ing is something older kids do when they’re bored and looking to cause trouble. The book’s decision to include this asabsurd*. Why are we encouraging children to do reckless things like this when they should be learning how to behave, share, and develop relationships with others?
And let’s talk history—because, believe it or not, this book manages to mess that up too. There’s a scene where a character quotes the famous “Let them eat cake” line, which is completely misquoted. This phrase wasn’t even said by Marie Antoinette. It’s a widely debunked myth, and the fact that the author has this character spouting it without any context or explanation just shows how lazy the writing is. There’s no effort to research, no care for accuracy—just throw in whatever sounds vaguely historical and hope no one notices. This is children’s literature—accuracy matters.
And honestly, after reading this, I’m convinced that getting a book published for kids doesn’t require talent, effort, or any kind of meaningful storytelling—it just takes a few recycled tropes: Halloween, mischief, insults, and a couple of historical inaccuracies to make it sound “fun.” Throw it all together, add some random Halloween monsters, and voilà—you’ve got a book.
The bottom line is this: Do not let your kids near this book. Don’t read it yourself. Don’t even think about it. There are so many better books out there that actually teach kids valuable lessons and provide entertainment without all the negativity and nonsense. Captain Underpants, Magic Tree House, The Berenstain Bears—these are the kinds of books children should be reading. They are fun, full of heart, and actually mean something.
This book is a complete disaster. It’s a mess. A failure in every possible way. Don’t waste your time. And don’t make your kids suffer through it either. They deserve better. Trust me.
P.S. If the author thinks this book is actually the work of a gifted writer, then I’d love to see what happens when a "genius" tries to spell “pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.” Spoiler alert: they won’t. It’s harder than getting through this book without a headache.