I am Number Four

"I am Number Four," by Pittacus Lore.

Three are dead.  He is Number Four.
Assuming the pseudonym John Smith, "Number Four" sets to settling in in his latest town, Paradise, Ohio.  Falling for the ex-cheerleader ex-girlfriend of the town's basketball star doesn't do much to his policy of staying invisible, and staying invisible is everything for the alien who's trying to stay under the radar of the murderous Mogadarians who killed his people and stripped his planet of resources.  If John can keep his newly developing powers a secret from the bloodthirsty killers, than their might be a chance that Lorien can be saved.  Mistakes come at every turn, though, and John's powers fly out of control.  It might be merely a matter of time before the Mogadarians find him, and mark their death total up to four . . .

I am not impressed with this story.  It's a typical Hollywood-blockbuster movie, but slowed down a bit, and shoved into a book.  Here look at this version of the summary:
             There is a mysterious alien male who may or may not have amazing powers that have the potential to save our world from terrifying alien invaders!  He also wants to restore his home planet back to it's former glory because it was ravaged by the same species of intergalactic menaces.  But, before his powers develop, he must blend in with the high school population to hide from the evil aliens.  While he is hiding in a small town, he meets the girl of his dreams and gets into a fight with her possessive ex-boyfriend.  When his powers finally show themselves, will our hero be able to escape the detection of the bad guys?  . . . No, probably not.  
       Well, where have we heard that before?  Oh, right in the trailer of the next alien-invasion movie.  Which, makes sense, because this book is also a movie.  But even the book is complete with pretty blonds, unlikely allies, and an aging mentor.  I'm sorry, I'm just not happy over here.  I  guess I just thought it was going to be some fantastic book, some earth-shattering new sci-fi book.  Instead, it's horribly cliched.
        It has all of the good elements of a fiction book:  A gigantic problem that's about to become a whole lot bigger if it doesn't get fixed soon, a hero that's (presumably) going to fix it, and a secret that the hero has to keep hidden from the rest of the world.  Yeah, sure.  We see that in nearly every contemporary young adult book.  It's a reliable formula, as well as a comforting one.
        And there's a unique twist to the problem:  The victims can only be killed in numerical order.  But that premise leaves several unanswered questions;  who decided the numerical order?  What exactly is a Lorien charm?  Who casted the thing, if you said that all of your Elders had fled the planet?  There is a lot of mystery in this book, questions that are left unanswered to create hype, but those questions aren't there to create hype, in my opinion, and just leave holes in the reason of the plot.
        And, dude, does the girl have to be blond?  Does the ex-boyfriend have to be a jock?  I thought that we were past this.  Oh, sure, it's standard in plenty of realistic fiction/romance books, but this is . . . I don't know.   I enjoy stories.  Isn't that evident on what I choose to write my blog?  This is a pretty good story.  It has an intriguing back-story, and a wonderful premise to it.  But, I don't know, and I know I've said that before, but . . .  I would've done something different, if I had been writing it.
       Maybe part of the problem was that I couldn't find anyone in this book to relate to.  John was a bit bull-headed, Sarah was a bit of a ditz, Sam was too nerdy and unsocial . . . I probably could've connected with Henri, if given half the chance, but I wasn't.  He's always the enemy in John's eyes, the over-protective parent, etc.  But he's the only one with any sense!
      Also, I just couldn't buy into Mogadaria and Loria, or whatever the planets were called.  Those places, no matter how many times they described them or went over their history, there was never any chance that they might've, could've, possibly, maybe been real, that feeling you get when you read a really good book, and you know that that place could really be out there, no matter how implausible.
       So, Mr. Four, I wish you luck in saving your planet.  But with all your sterotypes, I doubt that you'll be able to save your literary audience from despair.

For more information (not much more, but . . .) the website is http://iamnumberfour.com/