Children of the Dark
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Let's face it, Teen agers will get hold of this and read it with avidity as they do Shulman's earlier books. Perhaps it would be just as well to know what the score is and give it to them straight. After all, the book mirrors some of the unsavory aspects of human relations in that typically American middle-class middle-income group. It may be wholly disillusioning to the more naive teen agers -- but only too many of them will recognize the parent to parent, parent to child relationships graphically described in this book, and used as the reasons behind some of the teen age disasters. The story centers around Steve Stark, a new boy in an average mid-western town, and traces the steps leading up to a series of increasingly disastrous episodes he and the gang of kids he runs around with are involved in. There is a fatal motor car race, a revealing evening in a bar, a psychopathic killing. Melodrama yes. But an eye-opener that may strike more familiar notes than we care to recognize.
apologize. You know,” he winked in a pathetic attempt at humor, “strategy.” “Don’t you want me to apologize to you?” “What for?” his father answered the question with a question. “Right now you’d give anything to be some years older and on your own. So if you feel like eating out in peace rather than coming home”—he shrugged—“who am I to interfere with something I’d like to do myself? But, Steve,” he paused as if he had said too much, “your mother loves you.” “But ” “But why doesn’t she
the juke pushed its melody through the open door into the street, and as the record ended Steve heard the high laughter of women. Then a second record began to revolve on the turntable and the strident jump overwhelmed the gaiety. He stood before the window, attempting to make up his mind, because he had never gone into a bar and this one, the whole street, looked so damned crummy, as if it held what he was looking for. Still he hesitated, and as he stood outside, then moved to stand at the
arrested for what they’re thinking.” “I’ll take my chances,” Steve grinned, then he was solemn again as he clasped the stem of his glass. “Real things on my mind.” He decided to explore the sympathy bit. Lori nodded as if she understood, then tossed off her second drink and repeated the drink-in-the-chaser procedure. Behind them the girls had pushed the soldiers into a booth and a ball was in progress, if the screams, shrill laughter, pushing away of hands, and singing along with the juke could
invitation had been extended. There wasn’t anything in the paper about the man she had picked up; but then how could there be when the attention of everyone was devoted to a murder and the hope of its solution. She ordered him to call his home and he did and when he came out of the booth his face was long and he said his mother had accepted the invitation. But she had thought it odd, very odd, to be telephoned by people she didn’t know and she had wanted to know all about Judy’s parents. Judy
here . .. “Make believe it’s yours,” Plato spoke directly to Judy, beseeched her with an outstretched hand. “Please.” She turned her back on him. “Are you coming with me?” she asked Steve. There was a blankness in her eyes, an impersonal coldness in her voice that proved she would not consider compromise. “I’m waiting for you to answer me." Steve looked at her paled cheeks, her eyes suddenly apprehensive, then once again cold, the stubborn set of her mouth—so like his mother to whom he would