"Rosi Gets More Than She Bargained for in this Time-Bending YA Tale"
Reviewed by Unassigned 1_Reviewer
Posted June 29, 2012
Fantasy | Young Adult
Rosi Carol's father didn't return from a trip, and she is sent to live with her uncle Richard in New Richmond, New Hampshire. But there are a lot of strange things in New Richmond. Richard's home is a castle that seems to have a mind of its own. She finds her room by following the doors that open in front of her; many of her possessions are already in her room; she has no Internet access until she asks for it; but most strange of all is that she seems to move in time, seeing events and people from the past. She makes friends with some of the locals, has a crush on one of the rich kids in town but never really fits into either group since few people in New Richmond accept outsiders because of the Carol's reputation.
She learns of a group of widows from the past who wait and call out for their husbands. Somehow there is a relationship between her and the widows and her movement in time, but she doesn't understand enough to unravel what's going on. She learns some background from a paranormal journalist named Jessie, and her uncle drops small clues from time to time, but for the most part she's left to learn on her own.
Rosi has much of the same angst as any teen as she struggles with the paranormal aspect of her life: having a crush on a popular guy, hanging out with friends, trying to find her place in a town that doesn't want her and missing her father and the aunt and uncle she left in New York.
Edward Eaton has created a character with whom readers can definitely empathize. Readers will be as curious as Rosi to find out the connections between her and time, and what role she is expected to play. The story grows into a battle of good and evil as Rosi discovers the dark secret her family has carried through history and her relationship to the restless souls who haunt her.
Edward Eaton does a nice job at describing both the town with its hints of mystery and some otherworldly landscapes and scenes in which Rosi finds herself. He blends reality and fantasy well, slightly blurring the lines for both Rosi and the reader. ROSI'S CASTLE is the first book in the Rosi's Doors trilogy, and I look forward to the next two installments.
VoirSeries
SUMMARY
Orphaned, Rosi Carol is sent to live with her mysterious
Uncle Richard in his eerie castle on the New England
coast. Rosi feels even more of an outcast when she
discovers the townspeople believe the Carol family has some
sort of magical hold over New Richmond. Even her new
friends are afraid of her.
She soon discovers there may be some truth to the
rumors. For one thing, the castle seems to have a mind of
its own with lights turning off and on and doors locking
and unlocking with no one in sight. Then there's a strange
dark cloud that has been dogging her since the train
station, while the ghosts of the Widows from New Richmond's
past blame Rosi for their husbands never returning from the
sea. Her only allies are a Girl in Black (gone as suddenly
as she appears) and Jesse (a paranormal reporter no one
else can see).
Can Rosi discover what the Widows want? What about
the Girl in Black? Can Jesse help her find the answers or
is he another big mystery? And why can't her watch keep
proper time?
ExcerptWITH a sigh, Rosi looked yet again at the clock above the
door of the darkened doughnut shop.
One o’clock.
She was not happy.
After spending too much time wandering around Boston
sightseeing and avoiding the station, she had missed the
earlier train but figured there would be a car waiting for
her.
There should have been a car waiting for her.
She had left a bunch of messages at the number the
lawyer had given her. Who would leave a fifteen-year-old
girl alone at a train station at one in the morning?
Looking around, she smiled as other late-night travelers
yawned and straggled to their cars or their waiting loved
ones. A few families with cranky children and snapping
parents laden with luggage strolled out of the station and
left. A couple of homeless-looking people came up asking
for spare change. Rosi handed out some quarters and then
pulled out a book hoping it would discourage further
intrusion.
Soon, the parking lot was empty and the only people
around were a pair of janitors blasting a radio and
sweeping up candy wrappers and cigarette butts.
"You all right, miss?" one of the janitors called out to
her.
"Just waiting for my uncle."
"Wanna wait inside?"
She shook her head. "No, but thanks."
Outside the station was creepy enough. Inside it just
plain smelled. The concrete had a reassuring solidity to it
and the lights made the place as bright as day, but the
almost pitch black gloom looming beyond the parking lot
made her nervous. She couldn’t remember seeing a night even
close to this dark. Even though the sky looked clear above
her, the gloom was partially filled by a heavy dark storm
cloud that drifted on a breeze that had yet to reach the
station.
Someone better pick her up soon, Rosi thought. That
storm looked ready to burst.
And there was the silence.
Sure, there was the Latino rap from the radio, and the
janitors were calling back and forth to each other. She
could also hear cars driving by on a nearby highway.
Other than that, however, there was little noise. It
felt too quiet to her.
Silence was not something that made her feel safe or
comfortable. Her life was filled with noise: the traffic
and the chatter of pedestrians on her way to and from
school. Over the last few months, while living with her
cousins, she had gotten used to their three small children
crying, complaining, playing, or laughing at all hours of
the day.
Born and bred to the constant vibrancy of Manhattan,
Rosi was a city girl. She was used to a steady white-noise
background of honks, sirens, and distant chatter. Every
book she read, from fantasy adventures to trashy romances
with pirates and damsels on the covers, had a soundtrack of
punk or rap or this-week’s plastic teenager, a bass rhythm
from the subway, and was backed up by the choir of New
Yorkers that filled the sidewalks 24/7.
Here, out in the middle of nowhere, she half-expected
her sniffs to echo.
It was certainly chilly. She was sure she would hate
living way up here in the north. June in the city was warm.
Perhaps it was all the cars and exhaust and lights that
made the city warmer than the country.
Pulling an 'NYC’ sweatshirt from her suitcase, she
slipped it on and pulled it down over her knees. There was
little she could do about her feet. The only shoes she had
brought with her were the flip-flops she now wore. She
would have to wait until the rest of her stuff got here
from home.
Oh well. She didn’t have to be happy about moving to the
middle of nowhere, but she had to move, so she had no
choice but deal with it. Of course, she could have raised a
fuss and screamed and yelled and thrown a fit, but she
wasn’t a little kid any more.
Rosi fingered the little silver St. Christopher that had
been a gift from her father on her thirteenth birthday when
he had taken her to Italy. That had been one of the best
weeks of her life. Daddy had taught her how to drive a
Vespa and the two of them had raced each other all up and
down the Bay of Naples. She always won, of course. It had
been her birthday after all, so it was only fair. One night
in Rome, she had sneaked out of the hotel and gone dancing
and had too much wine and had been brought home by a police
officer. Daddy had been so angry, even though he’d laughed
when the police officer told him that she had thrown up all
over some guy who had been trying to kiss her. And the food
in Italy sucked. It was supposed to be so great, but she
couldn’t even get a decent pepperoni pizza there.
Rosi sighed. Thinking about that trip so long ago made
her miss Daddy.
She stood and then walked around in front of the
station. She looked into the window of the convenience
store that was inconveniently closed. She even tried to see
if she could exhale steam. That would be really neat. No
go. It wasn’t that cold. The storm cloud seemed to be
inching closer to the lighted parking lot, so Rosi decided
to go back to her seat by the newspaper vending machines
where she should be dry when the torrents of rain came.
She tried to read, but could not get into her book. To
make matters worse, the battery in her G4 phone was dead so
she couldn’t listen to her music.
Daddy always made fun of her taste in music. She had
never cared all that much. She knew her taste in music was
rather bad. It wasn’t really her fault that the singers
everyone listened to didn’t write their own songs or play
their own instruments, or even sing.
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