The Lightning Thief (Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Book 1)

I am an adult reader (and teacher) who enjoys good YA books. I read them for my own enjoyment and to be able to recommend good reading material to middle school students. I have finished the PJ series and decided to return to book 1 to write a review.

Many reviewers appear to try to compare this series to Harry Potter. Frankly, other than its ability to make the reader want to keep turning the page and anxiously await the next book, I can't begin to compare the two! HP is pure fantasy with magic as its foundation. PJ, on the other hand, has its basis in Greek mythology. To me, this alone places PJ into more of an "historical fantasy" genre rather than pure fantasy. Magic certainly plays a role but it is actually a very small part compared to HP. The emphasis here is on the abilities humans attributed to the gods of ancient Greece and Rome and the fantasy part is how those abilities might affect modern offspring of those immortals and modern mortals, children known as demigods. The fact that so many cultures of ancient times in so many places had similar gods with similar attributes has to make one wonder if there isn't some factual basis as to their existence.

That said, Mr. Riordan clearly has done his research into the lives of the gods and goddesses and all of the associated monsters, creatures, and peoples of legend and history. He brings them to life in the 21st Century with believable characters and situations that are well-developed and that allow the stories to flow from one exciting adventure or quest to another without confusion or frustration on the part of the reader. Face it, how many of us remember the hierarchy, attributes, and tales of even the top 12, nevermind all the minor deities and various creatures from our high school classes and mandatory reading of Homer, The Odyssey, and even Shakespeare? Probably not many, mainly because most of us had no real frame of reference to hang all that ancient stuff in. I had more exposure than most because I took several years of Latin (which sadly is taught in very few schools today) and yet I learned a great deal I didn't know reading this wonderful series of books I had difficulty putting down! As a teacher, an avid reader, and hopefully future author I have deep admiration of Mr. Riordan's word crafting, ability to challenge YA readers with expansive vocabulary without overwhelming, his characters to whom we can all relate in a variety of aspects, and his creativity in bringing ancient mythology alive for this generation of readers. I also appreciate his highlighting some of the positives of two common learning difficulties, ADHD and dyslexia, that plague so many people in our inactive, word-oriented society. Many of our greatest minds and most creative inventors dealt or deal with one or both of these alternate ways of viewing the world, yet instead of embracing and developing these special thinkers and their skills we call them "learning disabled" and make them feel stupid when in reality these particular "disabilities" tend to be accompanied by higher than normal intelligence!

Many reviewers have synopsized this and other books in the series so I have deliberately avoided doing so and have instead focused on WHY young readers should be encouraged to read this book and the entire series. It's fun, imaginative, exciting, interesting, has male and female heroes who are well-developed characters, teaches without the reader feeling taught, shows that good and bad aren't always black and white, and has good values such as loyalty, honesty, and the value of friends, family, and community without preaching. Besides, it's just plain a darn good read for kids of nearly all ages!

" 'Like it or not -- and believe me, plenty of people weren't very fond of Rome, either -- America is now the heart of the flame. It is the great power of the West. And so Olympus is here. And we are here.'

"It was all too much, especially the fact that I seemed to be included in Chiron's we, as if I were part of some club.

" 'Who are you, Chiron? Who...who am I?'

Chiron smiled. He shifted his weight as if he were going to get up and out of his wheelchair, but I knew that was impossible. He was paralyzed from the waist down.

" 'Who are you,' he mused. 'Well, that's the question we all want answered, isn't it? But for now, we should get you a bunk in cabin eleven. There will be new friends to meet. And plenty of time for lessons tomorrow. Besides, there will be s'mores at the campfire tonight, and I simply adore chocolate.' "

If I were to discuss the Boy Scouts of America, there would certainly be some harsh sentiments that I'd have to express, both in regard to the national organization and, also, in regard to my own recollections of having been an adolescent member. But among the Scouting experiences about which I have only positive memories are the couple of weeks each summer during the late Sixties that I spent at Woodworth Lake Scout Reservation in upstate New York.

Woodworth Lake was encountered at the end of the five-hour bus trip that would always commence at the crack of dawn from the Long Island suburb where I was growing up. Mornings at Woodworth Lake would begin with our trekking from our respective lakeside campgrounds to the dining hall where one member of each assigned table had arrived even earlier in order to set the table and serve as that day's waiter. The days would end after dark, with all of the groups in attendance at the camp coming together in a natural amphitheater location to perform skits for one another and to join together in song. (Thirty years later at circle time, I'd think back warmly to those campfire evenings as I taught preschoolers to sing such camp memories as "Waltzing Matilda," "Yellow Submarine," and "There's a Hole in the Bucket, Dear Liza.")

In between the morning and evening festivities, I'd get to tackle projects of my choosing that would lead to merit badges, swim in the bracing cold lake, hike for miles with my buddies, and swat mosquitoes. Woodworth Lake was where I learned to row well enough to be able to subsequently conquer the substantial winds and tides of Northport Bay and Huntington Harbor. It was the location of contests where a Crisco-covered watermelon would be tossed into the lake between two competing camp groups, or where late-night scavenger hunts were occasionally conducted, with success leading to coupons that were redeemed for tasty midnight snacks. And then there was that night in 1969 when we all sat together inside the canteen and stared in awe as Neil Armstrong walked on the moon.

Sure, there were plenty of guys with whom I became friendly over those years, as a result of attending patrol and troop meetings back at home. But there was a whole different bonding that developed between those of us who spent afternoons together, developing skits for the evening campfire, and mornings together, waking up hours away from our families and familiar living patterns.

I'm currently sitting up in bed, hours from home, the only light coming from the laptop in my lap. It's an hour before sunrise, and there's a freight train whistle in the distance -- something we stopped hearing in our part of the world decades ago. Sunrise will lead me and Shari back out to the gorgeous Sierra lakes, trails, and vistas that we're experiencing this week. Traveling hours away from home in order to wander through and over mountains is clearly one of those learned behaviors resulting from my summer camp experiences.

Although Percy Jackson's summer camp experience clearly shares some similarities with mine, as well as with those of most adolescents venturing away from home and habit, it would be safe to say that Percy's summer camp experience at Half-Blood Hill (beginning shortly after the incident in which he unwittingly vaporizes his pre-algebra teacher) also involves quite a few dissimilarities from the summer camp norm:

"We must have been on the north shore of Long Island, because on this side of the house, the valley marched all the way up to the ocean, which glittered about a mile in the distance. Between here and there, I simply couldn't process everything I was seeing. The landscape was dotted with buildings that looked like ancient Greek architecture -- an open-air pavilion, an amphitheater, a circular arena -- except that they all looked brand new, their white marble columns sparkling in the sun. In a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school-age kids and satyrs played volleyball. Canoes glided across a small lake. Kids in bright orange T-shirts like Grover's were chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. Some shot targets at an archery range. Others rode horses down a wooded trail, and unless I was hallucinating, some of their horses had wings."

In the wake of a horrifying series of experiences at the end of the school year, Percy Jackson, a self-described "troubled" kid, finds himself at Half-Blood Hill. And he comes to find out that his dyslexia, his attention deficit disorder, his mediocrity in school, his knack for inevitably causing disaster on school field trips, all stems from his being the product of a relationship between a mortal and a Greek god.

"Being a half-blood is dangerous. It's scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways."

Teaming up with a satyr named Grover and a bright girl named Annabeth (The author repeatedly teases readers with subtle allusions to HP.), Percy Jackson sets out with his new-found powers on a quest to...

" 'So let me get this straight,' I said. 'I'm supposed to go to the Underworld and confront the Lord of the Dead.'

" 'Check,' Chiron said.

" 'Find the most powerful weapon in the universe.'

" 'Check.'

" 'And get it back to Olympus before the Summer Solstice, in ten days.'

" 'That's about right.'

"I looked at Grover, who gulped down the ace of hearts.

" 'Did I mention that Maine is very nice this time of year?' he asked weakly.' "

Filled with out-of-this-world adventures, and chapter titles like, "I Play Pinochle with a Horse," "I Become Supreme Lord of the Bathroom," and "I Ruin a Perfectly Good Bus," Percy Jackson's search for himself is the ultimate summer camp experience.