Whether it’s because I’ve read dozens of mythological creature books over the past couple of years, or because I’ve been reading really dark material lately, I’m not sure; but I just did not enjoy Chris D’Lacey’s The Fire Within. It is a really hot bestseller among teens and children, so I was expecting something pretty special. What I got, however, was simple confusion.

The book is about a college kid who doesn’t seem like any college kid that I’ve ever known in my life—and this is coming from a studious, three job working college student. He becomes a tenant at the home of a woman and her daughter in Massachusetts, and spends most of his time, oddly enough, chasing squirrels and worrying about his weird landlady. He thinks she’s weird, of course, because she makes clay dragons that may or may not be real; I think she’s weird, and that he is, too, because they all speak and act like they are from England.

The author himself must be English; I can’t otherwise explain why the people in the story are always eating weird food, like beans on toast or shepherd’s pie or tea and biscuits in the afternoon. The only college student—the only people, really—who do these things that I’ve ever met are my English friends. And while that’s fine for them, that doesn’t really make sense in an American story.

Much of the words used and the telling of the story also feel English rather than American; on the first couple of pages, a twenty-year-old boy (who apparently is only going to only one college class, which is really weird—and where he is getting money for his rent, we have no idea, since he doesn’t work like most college students in America) says the word “lovely,” and on the next page, a ten-year-old girl tells her mother to stop “twittering.”

I could swear that I’m reading Harry Potter—not for the story or how much I enjoy it, but by the language itself. Wouldn’t it have simply been more accurate and enjoyable to keep the story in England; if nothing else, just for it to make sense?

The story itself is largely boring, though there are some fun spots—such as when the dragons finally come to life, which is near the end of the story. The characters are very one-dimensional; we don’t really know much about them except for the fact that they really, really like squirrels. There’s really not much central conflict except for that regarding the squirrels, too; I feel like there should have been a rodent on the front cover rather than the dragon. It just felt deceptive; I was expecting some harrowing adventure with dragons, not something where dragons were more of an afterthought.

This was the first book in the series, however; perhaps the follow-up is more adventurous. I hope so, but I’m not sure if I’ll be reading it or not. My husband laughingly said I shouldn’t, since I kept getting incredibly angry while reading it. Then again, it’s a kids’ book, so if children enjoy it, then it’s definitely worthwhile.