This book has been written for the middle grade reader who enjoys mysteries, crimes and puzzles.
Worcester Glendenis is a 12-year-old wannabe private detective. He models himself on his hero, the fictional private eye Philip Marlowe, of course without the booze, cigarettes and violence. After all, he is only twelve.
He's a likeable and smart kid with two pesky 7-year-old twin sisters, and a Mum and Dad who are not always on his side. Yet he wins out and solves difficult cases always with the help of his super-smart friend Esther,
This book has been written for the middle grade reader who enjoys mysteries, crimes and puzzles.
Worcester Glendenis is a 12-year-old wannabe private detective. He models himself on his hero, the fictional private eye Philip Marlowe, of course without the booze, cigarettes and violence. After all, he is only twelve.
He's a likeable and smart kid with two pesky 7-year-old twin sisters, and a Mum and Dad who are not always on his side. Yet he wins out and solves difficult cases always with the help of his super-smart friend Esther,
Chapter One: JUST LIKE IN THE MOVIES
A screech of brakes violates the morning air, filling nearby nostrils with the smell of rubber. A van veers violently off course and hits a pole, causing its back door to fling open. A can of paint carves a parabola through the air, hits the road and dislodges its lid. White paint gloops over the black asphalt.
Worcester Glendenis, 12-year-old private detective and boy with a bike, stops pedalling and comes to a standstill on the grass near the incident. Straddling his faithful bicycle Feynman, he removes his earbuds.
Within seconds several scenes swoop across Worcester’s field of vision, like birds of prey in pursuit of their catch. Two men jump out of the van then hurtle down the street. Next a police car, all siren and lights, pulls over next to the van. Two police officers leap out of their car. The policewoman checks the van’s contents while the policeman runs in pursuit of the two men.
Like most 12-year-olds, Worcester was deeply familiar with the speed and action of video games. However, this was real life which, he knew, could be dangerous. He fiddled with the strap of his helmet, not sure whether to keep it on for a quick escape or take it off in order to scratch his itchy scalp.
The policewoman who went to check the van was athletic looking, while the policeman was unfit and slow. The two men from the van soon sprinted down a side street and disappeared from sight. The policeman stopped, put his hands on his thighs and gulped oxygen. He slowly walked back to the police van. The policewoman threw him a bottle of water. Worcester took this opportunity to move a little closer to the scene of action.
Now the police officers were talking together, nodding their heads seemingly at random, inspecting the van and jotting in their notebooks. The policeman went to sit in the police car and started to babble some commands on his police radio. Worcester couldn’t make out much of what he said beyond words such as two men, fingerprints and tow-truck.
Suddenly the policewoman looked in Worcester’s direction and waddled towards him, weighed down by her baton, gun and walkie-talkie.
‘I saw everything Miss, I promise.’ Worcester’s face lit up a welcoming smile. Surely they could use his help? OK, so the policewoman had a gun and a car, but he had his bicycle and brains. OK, so they also had a police radio and wore uniforms, but his secret weapon was anonymity: who would think a 12-year-old could be a private detective?
‘This is a crime scene. Please leave.’
‘I’m just looking Miss, I won’t bother you. I promise.’
‘It’s not safe for you here.’
‘You may not know this. I am a private detective.’ As he spoke, he noticed some of the other cans of paint in the van were white. Could it be a vanful of white paint-cans?
‘I would never have guessed,’ she quipped.
He didn’t hear what she said as he was now getting worried. What would he do if those two men returned to the scene of the crime? It could get very bad for him.
‘Maybe I can help?’ He moved a bit closer.
Stifling a laugh the policewoman replied, ‘Thanks, but we can take it from here.’
‘My name is Worcester Glendenis, that is Worcester spoken like platypus-ta, but everyone calls me WG.’
‘My name is Constable Planck, but you can call me Constable Planck.’
‘I hope this helps. Mum taught me how to clean up messy paint.’
‘We’re good thanks.’
She took a swig from her water bottle, on which he could read the words High School. From this observation Worcester hatched a new rule, to add to the three that he used to solve The Plumrose Necklace Affair:
Observe the small things around you
This gave him the confidence boost to ask, ‘Can you please tell me why two men would run away from a van full of paint?’
‘No I can’t. We have to keep our ongoing operations a secret. Time for you to go home.’
As a detective he obeyed, as a boy he cycled home, while repeating the words Constable Planck 51 times. Once home, he hopped off Feynman to wheel him into the garage. His father was there, as usual, polishing his old Toyota. Looking up from the back seat he was working on, cloth in hand, he smiled and said, ‘Hello Worcester, been out for an early ride?’
‘I saw something amazing Dad.’
His dad looked down again and said, ‘Hand me the green bottle over there if you wouldn’t mind.’
‘Yeah sure. Just a sec. please. So this van crashed into a pole. Two men jumped out and then the cops came. It reminded me of a detective story with Philip Marlowe, umm, yes, The Long Goodbye.’
‘You took the book off my bookshelf?’
‘Why do you ask?’
‘Those books are not suitable for your age group, they weren’t written for 12-year-olds.’
‘I’m almost 13, Dad.’
‘I’m going to have to hide them from you.’
This upset Worcester who thought of Philip Marlowe as his hero and teacher even though he was only a character in a novel.
He trudged into his bedroom, which he shared with his twin 7-year-old sisters, Gerta and Shilla. He sat at his desk, tapping the cover of his notebook with a pen. Wait, he hadn’t placed the notebook there last night, so who put it on his desk? A bigger problem was the missing $200, his payment for successfully solving The Plumrose Necklace Affair just the night before. Could there be a connection?
The Plumrose Necklace Affair was his first case as a private detective, the first of many, so he hoped. That $200 he got from Mrs Plumrose was not only a reward for his great work, but also the first instalment on a bigger house he hoped to buy for his family. Once his private detective business becomes a raging success, that is.
As a private detective he had to find the $200, as a family member he was to be shocked by what happened next.
REVIEW: Worcester Glendenis Kid Detective by Jon Glass
This is a middle school book. Actually, the book is a compilation of three consecutive short stories featuring our twelve-year old hero, Worcester Glendenis.
Worcester has decided that he wants to become a private detective, like his Dad’s favourite PI, Philip Marlowe. So, GW, as he’s known to his friends, reads his father’s collection of Marlow books, and tries to model his behaviour after the Marlow character — not the questionable adult behaviour, but more the how-to-be-a-detective behaviour. He develops his own codes and rules for detecting, which he applies successfully to all three of his “cases.”
Worcester’s a likeable kid, and his sidekick, Esther Plumrose is his Watson. Together they try to solve the mysteries they are faced with — a missing necklace, a missing bird, and a missing electronic prototype. WG is on the case, except when his life as a twelve year old intrudes. Besides solving mysteries, Worcester has to deal with parents who treat him like a child, even though he’s almost thirteen, bratty younger twin sisters who make his life miserable, a bully at school, and adults who seem very weird and illogical to Worcester.
There are a few puzzles in Worcester Glendenis Kid Detective, but I’m putting that down to the target age group — and what they see as the mysterious ways of adults at that age, as well as the exaggerated ways in which middle school kids see the world.
This would probably be a bumpy read for most adults — the dialogue is a bit uneven, and, like I said, there are a number of plot mysteries that aren’t solved. But it would be a good read for any tweens who like mystery stories. WG is a likeable hero, and he takes his decision to become a detective seriously. There’s nothing like a kid taking on the world of adults, and winning.