Every summer camp has its campfire stories, and that’s all they are: stories. But not here.

On the surface, Boys Club Camp is just like every other British summer camp: strict officers, woodland games, and night-time pranks.

But Tommy remembers that summer in ’97, the year he turned thirteen when he was the only one plagued with those little niggling questions: Why does the sound of howling cut through the cold night air? Why are the officers so obsessed with the legacy of Boys Club’s long-dead founder? Why aren’t boys allowed in the east woods?

A scream heard in the night led Tommy and his friends on a journey of discovery, to solve a mystery a hundred years in the making: what is the real purpose of Boys Club? The answer could only be found in the dark heart of the woods: the Forbidden Zone.

Now an adult, Tommy needs to understand what they found there. It is his last hope of saving their lives.

 

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My Rating:

Favorite Quotes:

 

I remember sitting rapt as my brother told us all about the mongees and “skids disease”. I believed them then because I was a little brother, and everything my big brother told me was gospel. They claimed the older boys had told them when they started just the same, passing them down through the generations, but I was pretty sure they had made them up themselves. I knew for certain that they invented skids disease when one of the juniors was found with skid marks in his pants.

 

I felt like I had stolen something, done something naughty, and every time I did something naughty it was followed by ten minutes of panic as I worried someone would find out. And for the rest of the day there would be the occasional stabs of further panic whenever someone said my name or started a sentence with something like “Can I talk to you?”

 

We arrived back at Camp all clean and fresh-smelling. This was the real reason we went swimming on a Tuesday afternoon: so that we were all presentable for visitors evening, and so that the juniors didn’t go home looking feral.

 

Even at thirteen I had noticed the irony that children always wanted to grow up, whereas grownups always wanted to be children again.

My Review:

 

Tom Trott has the uncanny ability to deftly weave a tale so thoroughly and smoothly that it flowed through my cranium like a well-cast movie. And BTW, this story would make an exceptional film. The storylines were eventful and somewhat complicated and of a genre I rarely dabble in, so it required a bit of thought to keep it aligned but was well worth the effort when it began to gel.

The tale was cunningly paced and mainly narrated by the character of Tommy with the self-centered observations and musings of a curious and whip-smart pre-adolescent boy who did not particularly enjoy the old fashioned summer camp for boys he was sent to each year.   Tommy wore glasses and was a reader and observant thinker with a quick wit and the marshmallow center of a tender soul. He was soft and not at all interested or well suited for the physically demanding activities, oddly contrived athletic challenges, and fierce competitions the micromanaging camp directors instituted.

Tommy’s observations were laced with wry humor, a relentless curiosity, dread, and tween angst while enduring a week of constant group activities and the peculiar personalities of his fellow young campers and oddly disconcerting camp officers. This was not your typical summer camp coming of age tale nor was this a campfire story, although a few creative ones were included.

Mr. Trott’s memory must be exceptionally keen as he appears to well recall the allusive fine details, feelings of insecurity, futility, powerlessness, and the discomforts and confusion of early adolescence, as he has captured that tension well while embedding it within a slowly building and intriguing mystery.

Anyone who has experienced summer camp, whether ill-fated or nostalgically triumphant, will relate to at least a few the indignities found in this engaging missive. And as a bonus, I have learned the vast importance of an extra-secret handshake..