My least favourite book is The Ingenious Edgar Jones by Elizabeth Garner.

The skies of nineteenth-century Oxford are aflame the night of Edgar Jones’ birth. Whilst his father dreams of his son becoming a great scholar, his mother is quick to notice that Edgar has a different kind of cleverness. He is a born inventor. with a rebellious spirit that may be a blessing, or a curse.
Soon his abilities bring him to the attention of a maverick professor, a bone collector with plans for a museum that will for ever change the mankind looks at the world. Finally Edgar has a chance to show his true talent as he embarks on an adventure fraught with terrible dangers, for himself and those who love him.

While browsing a book shop I came across this and was intrigues by the title, after reading the blurb I thought that I was in for a treat. The book sounds like exactly the sort of daring, exciting adventure that I like to read from time to time but I couldn’t have been more wrong.

The characters in this book are flat and lifeless and it is hard to find yourself identifying with any of them. Edgar and his father are almost always at odds with each other which could be the recipe for a wonderfully written relationship that many children find they have in the early years with their parents but instead it is uncomfortable and flat. The only highlight of the book is Edgar’s apprenticeship to an inventor’s shop but Garner quickly puts a stop to that in a disappointing fall that inevitably follows the high.

The book ends with the most disappointing supernatural twist that I have ever read.

Even the characters in Twilight have more depth than the ones encountered in this book. While Garner uses some wonderful language to describe inanimate objects which can bring them to life in your mind she doesn’t invest enough time and imagination in the people to make the book readable.