Jackaby (Jackaby, #1)

by William Ritter

In her I saw myself, a fellow lost girl, headstrong and headed anywhere but home.

dig site proved to be no place for a young lady to run around. Currently in seek of a better location to do so.

I was not ready to abandon my foray into adventure, but I would compromise by taking a conventional job to sustain it.

She sent me on my way with a wrapped piece of fudge for being such a good girl, which did nothing for my self-confidence as a mature adult.

ok but you did get fudge though

“I think you must be a bit confused,” he said. “But don’t feel bad — it’s a common state. Most people are.”

“I have ceased concerning myself with how things look to others, Abigail Rook. I suggest you do the same. In my experience, others are generally wrong.”

“I am a man of reason and science. I believe what I can see or prove, and what I can see is often difficult for others to grasp. I have a gift that is, as far as I have found, unique to me. It allows me to see truth where others see the illusion — and there are many illusions, so many masks and faÇades. All the world’s a stage, as they say, and I seem to have the only seat in the house with a view behind the curtain.

Someone upstairs was playing the fiddle

“Well,” he managed at last, “that depends on your definition of people . . . and also of living.” He pulled on his baggy, brown coat. “It’s complicated. Fetch you a meat pie while I’m out?”

Traditionally, fairy folk avoid drawing attention to themselves,

“The chimneys and stovepipes have not been singing as often lately. That’s never a good sign for the city. They know something’s wrong.”

I wondered which was sadder: leaving someone to cry after you when you were gone, or not having anyone who would miss you in the first place.

It was so easy to get caught up in it. It felt so natural. Like how you think things ought to be when you’re a child and you’ve been reading storybooks and listening to fairy tales.

guess I forgot about being frightened because it felt good to finally be in the adventure.”

But that’s Jackaby in a nutshell. Science and magic, beauty and bedlam, things that ought to be at odds — they just don’t follow the same rules when Jackaby’s involved.

“Don’t thank me. Just do your best not to die, would you?

“Did I have a nice time? Being interrogated for a double homicide at a police station on my second day of work?” “That’s a no, then?”

It was the last song I would ever hear.

“So,” I said, “we’re going to die.” “Well, of course we are, Miss Rook. Don’t be dense. Everyone dies.”

You’re a bad influence.” “I do what I can.”

I believed her, I realized, but I had already come to terms with my death so many times in the span of a day, I found it difficult to be frightened by the announcement. I had crested that emotional hill already, and the view was becoming familiar.

we need are a few more people who aren’t too proud to listen to a fish.”

“Unexplained phenomena just happen to be our specialty. No excuses. You know where to reach us.”

I am not a child. I can make my own choices, even the bad ones. I have spent my entire life preparing for adventure, and then watching from the front step while it left without me. Since I picked up my first book, I have been reading about amazing discoveries, intrepid explorers, and fantastic creatures, all while scarcely setting foot outside my own house.

I thought it over for a moment and decided I was still going to enjoy it, meaningless or not.

Following his lead tends to call for a somewhat flexible relationship with reality.