See permission. | The Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books |
| The Big Picture, a
regular Bulletin feature both on-line and off, is an in-depth
look at selected new titles and trends. See the archive
for selections from previous months. |
Dan Danko and Tom Mason; illus. by Barry Gott. Sidekicks.
Little, 2003 97p
Trade ed. ISBN 0-316-16845-9 $10.95
Paper ed. ISBN 0-316-16844-0 $4.99
Gr. 3-7
Thirteen-year-old Guy Martin wants to be a superhero (as his sidekick name
of Speedy suggests, he’s now the fastest person alive, beating out the
former Fastest Man Alive Man), but right now he’s serving his apprenticeship
as a sidekick to Pumpkin Pete, hanging out in the Sidekick Clubhouse and waiting
for the call to aid the League of Big Justice in the fight against evil. After
three weeks, however, he’s finding that he’s mostly aiding them in
the fight against household and personal untidiness as he listens to the complaints
of his fellow sidekicks (“That’s what I was thinking. Smash evil and
be popular. I had no idea I’d be doing laundry and listening to people
whine all the time”), and he’s getting a bit restless. He’s got
more than soapsuds on his hands soon enough, though, when the League of Big
Justice Headquarters of Big Justice (there’s a lot of redundancy in good)
is blown up by the Brotherhood of Rottenness, and the League members—from
King Justice to Captain Haggis, the Librarian to Ms. Mime—have been captured
by the Brotherhood. Sidekicking being something less than a rigorously screened
calling (Spelling Beatrice has “been a sidekick for almost three years,
but what she really wants to do is act”), it’s a rather motley and
disunited crew that’s left to save the abducted superheroes and foil Rottenness’
plan. Fortunately, Guy’s stalwart efforts are rewarded (and his noble willingness
to sacrifice himself proven superfluous), and the world is saved (except for
Ohio, whose inhabitants were unfortunately all turned into puppets).
Pastiche is nothing new in children’s literature these days, but let’s
face it—it’s a hard genre to sustain for the length of a novel. Sidekicks
pulls off that difficult task, with lull-free pacing and relentless humor that
makes this suitable as a readaloud or an enticement for reluctant readers (an
easygoing format, topped by Gott’s slickly comic black-and-white chapter
headpieces, keeps the look unthreatening but sophisticated) as well as kids
just looking for an enjoyable literary romp. Danko and Mason evince the unflagging
energy of The Naked Gun’s Zuckers and Abraham—or, rather, an
energy that is funny even when it flags, as when the chapter titles career off
into commentary (“Chapter Seven: These Chapter Titles Make No Sense”;
“Chapter Nine: The Ninth Chapter”); another obvious forerunner here
is the loving mockery of Get Smart or, more recently, The Tick.
Here also is that same blend of genuine intelligence and lovable dorkiness (a
mixture likely to be found in this book’s readers as well). On the intelligence
side, it’s got a collection of quips larger than a superhero’s tights
wardrobe and a viewpoint of the proceedings that’s comfortably cynical
(“There isn’t much science to being a superhero sidekick. You have
to have a legal waiver from your parent or guardian unless you’re eighteen.
Ever since that ugly court battle with UnderAge Albert and the child labor laws,
it’s just plain impossible to become a sidekick without a bundle of legal
paperwork”); what’s more, it even keeps touch with the actual, if
somewhat peripheral, plot throughout. On the other hand, the authors are smart
enough to understand that elevation can be the enemy of enjoyment: the book
understands the importance of cheap laughs (there’s a villain, Le Poop,
whose powers are ferocious bodily odors, so that when he unleashes his particular
variety of gas attack “Spice Girl fell before its stinky awesomeness”),
and it’s also got an endless supply of dumb jokes about various lame superhero/sidekick
names (Bar-of-Soap Boy “had to move someplace where it didn’t rain
so much”).
Underneath the scoffing and the goofing, however, is some real, if still humorous,
heart. The book nicely plays Guy’s daily life at school and home against
his other existence (his parents insist on secrecy about his superpowers, saying
“We don’t want some supervillain blowing up our house because you
foiled his plan to rule the world, young man”), and his longing to display
his secret brilliance in order to impress the beauteous Prudence Cane will ring
true with every kid, sidekick or not, who’s yearned for the object of his
affection to have her eyes opened to his true worth. Guy’s loving mom provides
him and another sidekick with a ride to the Brotherhood of Rottenness (after
seeing her son and his colleague safely belted into the seats of the family
Oldsmobile, she warmly demonstrates herself as an in-touch parent by informing
Exact Change Kid that “Guy tells me you throw pennies”), and in fact
she’s still patiently waiting in the parking lot for her son at the end
of the book. Amid all the jokes about the embarrassing aspects of superheroism
is genuine appreciation of the phenomenon of bravery, fictional or real: “And
maybe that’s what really makes them heroes—because they’re not
perfect or superhuman; because they bleed and break like everyone else; because
they might die, but they still rush into danger.” And whether they admit
it or not, that’s what draws a lot of would-be sidekicks, who’ll be
gratified that the book truly appreciates their pleasures. (Imprint information
appears on p. 56.)
Deborah Stevenson, Editor
Cover illustration by Barry Gott from Sidekicks ©2003. Used by
permission of Little, Brown and Company.
This page was last updated on October 1, 2003.