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Childrens Fiction Davis (Central) Library
Children's Fiction
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Enhanced descriptions from Syndetics:

Twelve-year-old Johnny Maxwell has a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. This has never been more true than when he finds himself in his hometown on May 21, 1941, over forty years before his birth! An accidental time traveler, Johnny knows his history. He knows England is at war, and he knows that on this day German bombs will fall on the town. It happened. It's history. And as Johnny and his friends quickly discover, tampering with history can have unpredictable-- and drastic-- effects on the future. But letting history take its course means letting people die. What if Johnny warns someone and changes history? What will happen to the future? If Johnny uses his knowledge to save innocent lives by being in the right place at the right time, is he doing the right thing? Mixing nail-biting suspense with outrageous humor, Terry Pratchett explores a classic time-travel paradox in Johnny Maxwell's third adventure.

Suitable 12+. Sequel to 'Johnny and the dead'

2 7 11 19 60 77 94 100 149 159

Excerpt provided by Syndetics

Johnny and the Bomb (SNY) Chapter One After the Bombs It was nine o'clock in the evening, in Blackbury High Street. It was dark, with occasional light from the full moon behind streamers of worn-out cloud. The wind was from the southwest and there had been another thunderstorm, which freshened the air and made the cobbles slippery. A police sergeant moved, very slowly and sedately, along the street. Here and there, if someone was very close, they might have seen the faintest line of light around a blacked-out window. From within came the quiet sounds of people living their livesâ€"the muffled notes of a piano as someone practiced scales, over and over again, and the murmur and occasional burst of laughter from the radio. Some of the shop windows had sandbags piled in front of them. A poster outside one shop urged people to Dig for Victory, as if it were some kind of turnip. On the horizon, in the direction of Slate, the thin beams of searchlights tried to pry bombers out of the clouds. The policeman turned the corner and walked up the next street, his boots seeming very loud in the stillness. The beat took him up as far as the Methodist chapel, and in theory would then take him down Paradise Street, but it didn't do that tonight because there was no Paradise Street anymore. Not since last night. There was a truck parked by the chapel. Light leaked out from the tarpaulin that covered the back. He banged on it. "You can't park that 'ere, gents," he said. "I fine you one mug of tea and we shall say no more about it, eh?" The tarpaulin was pushed back and a soldier jumped out. There was a brief vision of the interiorâ€"a warm tent of orange light, with a few soldiers sitting around a little stove, and the air thick with cigarette smoke. The soldier grinned. "Give us a mug and a wad for the sergeant," he said to someone in the truck. A tin mug of scalding black tea and a brick-thick sandwich were handed out. "Much obliged," said the policeman, taking them. He leaned against the truck. "How's it going, then?" he said. "Haven't heard a bang." "It's a twenty-five-pounder," said the soldier. "Went right down through the cellar floor. You lot took a real pounding last night, eh? Want a look?" "Is it safe?" "Course not," said the soldier cheerfully. "That's why we're here, right? Come on." He pinched out his cigarette and put it behind his ear. "I thought you lot'd be guarding it," said the policeman. "It's dark, and it's been pouring," said the soldier. "Who's going to steal an unexploded bomb?" "Yes, but . . ." The sergeant looked in the direction of the ruined street. There was the sound of bricks sliding. "Someone is, by the sound of it," he said. "What? We've got warning signs up!" said the soldier. "We only knocked off for a brew-up! Oi!" Their boots crunched on the rubble that had been strewn across the road. "It is safe, isn't it?' said the sergeant. "Not if someone drops a dirty great heap of bricks on it, no! Oi! You!" The moon came out from behind the clouds. They could make out a figure at the other end of what remained of the street, near the wall of the pickle factory. The sergeant skidded to a halt. "Oh, no," he whispered. "It's Mrs. Tachyon." The soldier stared at the small figure that was dragging some sort of cart through the rubble. "Who's she?" "Let's just take it quietly, shall we?" said the sergeant, grabbing his arm. He shone his flashlight and set his face into a sort of mad friendly grin. "That you, Mrs. Tachyon?" he said. "It's me, Sergeant Bourke. Bit chilly to be out at this time of night, eh? Got a nice warm cell back at the station, yes? I daresay there could be a big hot mug of cocoa for you if you just come along with meâ€"how about that?" "Can't she read all them warning signs? Is she mental?" said the soldier under his breath. "She's right by the house with the bomb in the cellar!" "Yes . . . no . . . she's just different," said the sergeant. "Bit . . . touched." He raised his voice. "You just stay where you are, love, and we'll come and get you. Don't want you hurting yourself on all this junk, do we?" "Here, has she been looting?" said the soldier. "She could get shot for that, pinching stuff from bombed-out houses!" "No one's going to shoot Mrs. Tachyon," said the sergeant. "We know her, see? She was in the cells the other night." "What'd she done?" "Nothing. We let her nap in a spare cell in the station if it's a nippy night. I gave her sixpence and a pair of ole boots what belonged to me mum only yesterday. Well, look at her. She's old enough to be your granny, poor old biddy." Mrs. Tachyon stood and watched them owlishly as they walked, very cautiously, toward her. The soldier saw a wizened little woman wearing what looked like a party dress with layers of other clothes on top, and a woolly hat with a bobble on it. She was pushing a wire cart on wheels. It had a metal label on it. "Tesco's," he said. "What's that?" "Dunno where she gets half her stuff," muttered the sergeant. The cart seemed to be full of black bags. But there were other things, which glittered in the moonlight. "I know where she got that stuff," muttered the soldier. "That's been pinched from the pickle factory!" "Oh, half the town was in there this morning," said the sergeant. "A few jars of gherkins won't hurt." "Yeah, but you can't have this sort of thing. 'Ere, you! Missus! You just let me have a look atâ€"" He reached toward the cart. Johnny and the Bomb (SNY) . Copyright © by Terry Pratchett . Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold. Excerpted from Johnny and the Bomb by Terry Pratchett All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

Reviews provided by Syndetics

Publishers Weekly Review

The third and final book in Terry Pratchett's Johnny Maxwell Trilogy, Johnny and the Bomb finds the hero (first introduced in Only You Can Save Mankind) traveling back in time to WWII, in an attempt to stop a German bomb from falling on his English village. While seemingly disconnected from the plot of the first two books in the series, Pratchett's trademark humor and imaginative storytelling should leave readers considering war's lasting effects. (HarperCollins, $16.99 256p ages 8-up ISBN 9780-06-054191-0; Apr.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

School Library Journal Review

Gr 5-8-This trilogy ends with a bang. Having stumbled upon a way to travel through time, Johnny knows exactly when a German bomb will be dropped on his English village. Time travel turns out to be tricky, however, as it takes Johnny and his friends several trips to alter history just enough to save their town, but also to ensure that everything stays the same when they return home. Adding to the suspense is the imaginative vehicle of a crazy bag lady's squeaky cart to time travel, often with unpredictable results. The climax is reached at rocket speed as Johnny becomes increasingly aware of the many dimensions of time and ultimately relies on this ability to save the townsfolk. Pratchett deftly weaves alternate realities together to form a satisfying conclusion, keeping confusion at bay by treating the weightier issues of time travel with his trademark humor. Alternating between 1990s Britain and World War II, he offers plenty for thoughtful readers to mull over even as he pokes fun at the genre. While there is little connection to the other books in the series, Johnny's quirky sidekicks are back, each sidesplittingly portrayed and effectively advancing the plot. It is Johnny who cares most about the effect the war will have on his sleepy town, and up until the very last page, readers will, too.-Emily Rodriguez, Alachua County Library District, Gainesville, FL (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

Horn Book Review

(Intermediate, Middle School) Likable slacker Johnny Maxwell (Only You Can Save Mankind, rev. 7/05; Johnny and the Dead, rev. 1/06) and his gang of friends -- the totally uncool Yo-less, timid Wobbler, kleptomaniac skinhead Bigmac, and bossy know-it-all Kirsty -- land face-first in their third adventure when they discover that local bag-lady Mrs. Tachyon's shopping cart is a time machine. Transported back to 1941, they must save Wobbler from existential erasure, alter a tragic chapter of history by fixing an air-raid siren, and grapple with numerous Big Questions (""If time was a pair of trousers, what leg would we be in?"" is a frequent refrain). Obstacles include chance encounters with various forebears and Bigmac's unfortunate resemblance to a Nazi spy. The humor -- a classic Pratchett synergy of irony, wit, and slapstick -- is nonstop and arises naturally from the characters, with Kirsty the perfect vehicle for the author to gently lampoon the time travel genre. After scoffing at ""unintelligent children [in books] who go around saying 'gosh' [and] just drift along having an adventure [and] never seem to think of it as any kind of opportunity,"" she bemoans the turn of events that places her squarely in the center of such a situation: ""Me, and four token boys. Oh, dear...It's only a mercy we haven't got a dog."" With plenty of loopy logic, off-the-cuff philosophy, and hectic action, this trilogy cap-off is pure fun. Copryight 2007 of The Horn Book, Inc. All rights reserved. (c) Copyright 2010. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

Kirkus Book Review

Johnny Maxwell, earnest English lad, and his friends take on the tricky ethics of time-travel paradox in this, the concluding volume of The Johnny Maxwell Trilogy. Seems Johnny's been researching WWII for school, and when the local bag lady's shopping cart sends him and his cronies back to a critical moment, he needs to decide whether to warn the town of an impending Luftwaffe raid and change history or let the unaware residents of Paradise Street die. Pratchett being Pratchett, of course, this inquiry into the Butterfly Effect comes replete with giggles, from the antics of the hapless Bigmac (who nearly derails the mission when his WWII-era costume turns out to be a salvaged German uniform) to the kids' reappearance into modern times in a church basement during the Over-50s Keep-Fit class. Chuckles aside, it's Johnny's agony at the human suffering of the world that cuts to the bone and will keep readers tracking the moral debate at the core of the novel, as the always-angry Kirsty hews to theoretical absolutes while the always-worried Johnny grieves the world's madness. Complex, funny and, above all, impassioned. (Fiction. 10-14) Copyright ©Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.