Review of "The Son of Poetry" by P.M. Gill

​Score: 95/100 (9.5 out of 10)

The Son of Poetry is a compelling coming-of-age novel by P.M. Gill full of mystery, magic, and even a bit of chivalric romance! It gradually ventures into more supernatural elements, featuring some magical realism and mystery. We'd argue that its safe content and language is more suited for a middle-grade audience, but its shear length verges on YA.

This 500+ page book follows Louis Song, a young man (about 17 to 18) who must show courage and perseverance in light of an assault (on himself), the murder of Kei Engliesin, and the disappearance of his friend, classmate, and crush, Anne Engliesin.

In our opinion, the relationship between Louis Song and Anne Engliesin is one of the most beautiful and powerful relationships we've seen in fiction, at least recently. The two of them comprise the heart and soul of the book. And that's what makes the first 400 or so pages of this book so compelling and engaging: it's Louis's quest—against all odds—to find and rescue Anne, someone who means the world to him. How can you root against that? How can you not get behind that?

Furthermore, this noble, romantic quest, his deep love and respect for Anne, and his desire to do right by Kei (by keeping his promise to the dying man) also lead to Louis growing as a person. He becomes courageous despite previously being fearful and drawn to self-preservation earlier in the book. He becomes a leader among his friends/peers despite being a timid neer-do-well earlier in the book. This character growth is impressive. In fact, it's extraordinary! We loved it! We loved Louis. And we LOVED Anne too!

Gosh, if this book had just remained focused on the two of them for the entire duration, this could've been a 9.5+ or 9.6 book—one of the best of the year. Well, it's still one of the best novels in the contest, but to think it could've been even better... imagine that.

But going back to what made it great... it celebrates both chivalry and character growth, particularly of a male character who seems plagued by insecurities, self-doubt, and understandable fears. Louis exemplifies what it means to be brave: being scared as hell to do something but doing it anyway because it's the right thing to do.

Understandably, Louis suffers from some trauma as the result of an incident while "ghost hunting" with some of his classmates including Anne. In this chaotic incident, Louis finds himself bludgeoned, bloodied, and unconscious. To make matters even worse, Anne goes missing, apparently abducted—kidnapped—during the struggle!

Louis is profoundly and deeply impacted by the disappearance of his dear friend and love, haunted by what may have become of her—whether she's suffering or already dead.

In enters the character who is arguably the book's tritagonist, Chief Investigator Larimore. Believe it or not, Larimore isn't the book's first major derailer. That honor goes to the three school bullies in the novel, Gannet, George Muir, and Keith Guillemot, who likewise take up an inordinate amount of this book—largely drawing focus away from Louis and Anne—the characters we actually care about.

But going back to Larimore... Larimore is at least the kind of investigator you would want on a missing person's case (and the later murder case) like this. Larimore is cutthroat, ruthless, and driven. He doesn't seem to sleep much, and he's always on the go. We are told that he won't leave any stone unturned. Well, more specifically, we are told:

"Larimore reiterated his orders that every speck, every iota of the crime scene be combed and catalogued. Every blade of grass was to be turned over. “Nothing, no matter how small,
could be overlooked."

Larimore takes these investigations as seriously as you'd want an investigator if you were a loved one whose special someone was dead and/or missing. And there is actually an explanation or some hints as to why. We're told that Larimore has a tragic backstory of his own: one involving the death of his son due to illness. Specifically, Larimore failed to take his son to the hospital when he was very sick. In context, this is why Larimore leaves nothing to chance and why he always digs deeper to find the answers he wishes he would've had before that tragedy.

He can empathize with others who are heartbroken, befuddled, and distraught about losing their loved one to unexpected circumstances. So these things—along with the fact that he's just a very involved and proactive character—make Larimore the third most compelling character in the book.

But he's still on a completely different tier below Louis and Anne. Let's just go back to talking about them as individuals and as a duo. What makes them so effective? What makes their chemistry so great?

Well, first and foremost, they genuinely seem to care about each other. And here's another thing that's important: Louis clearly respects Anne. He admires her. No, not just for her looks, but because she's truly extraordinary (both objectively and in his eyes). She's the top student in her class. She's also one of the school's most talented musicians/singers. And Louis, more than just about anyone else, recognizes these special and amazing things about her.

And, yes, he also recognizes her beauty, stylishness, and attractiveness.

But it's not one sided. Anne seems to appreciate and respect Louis as well. Keep in mind: Louis is not a singer or musician like Anne is. He's just along for the ride. But Anne respects and appreciates him for trying. She also respects and appreciates that he has his own interests and passions: poetry and writing.

Numerous scenes indicate that Anne feels as much respect and appreciation for Louis as he does for her. And let's add to that: trust.

The two trust each other.

We see it in the fact that Anne introduces Louis to her parents. We see it in the fact that Anne sings "Greensleeves" to Louis, something which comes back hauntingly in one of the book's best scenes. We see it—we feel it—when Anne and Louis cling together when they're afraid near the chaotic end of the ghost hunt. Anne's first instinct is to cling to Louis when she's afraid. Louis's first instinct is to cling to Anne when he's afraid. That's chemistry. That's electricity.

So, when Anne is abducted and is nowhere to be found, we feel the massive gaping hole in the heart that Louis feels. We know his hurt, his pain, and his uneasiness because his relationship with Anne was built up so well. WE CARED.

And because we cared, we also hurt.

Also, why are some authors so afraid to follow and use this trope? A character we care about—a damsel in distress, if you want to call her that—needs to be rescued by someone who cares about her deeply. What's so wrong about that? It works. It just does.

It's compelling.

We want the hero to save the girl. It's a tale as old as time.

And, you know what? We should want that. We should encourage that.
Boys and men should be encouraged—not discouraged—to protect girls and women.
Boys and men should be encouraged—not discouraged—to take care of girls and women.
Boys and men should be encouraged—not discouraged—to save girls and women.

It's not misogynistic to want boys and men to be masculine. To want to be heroes. To want to save the day.

It's not misogynistic to want boys and men to be guardians, protectors, and rescuers.
It's not misogynistic to accept the biological fact that God made men and boys bigger and stronger, unburdened them from childbearing and having a time-of-the-month.

Males are literally supposed to protect and look after females. And not just romantic partners. They are supposed to protect and look after their daughters and mothers as well. That's just the way that it is.

Don't you want your sons to aspire to be heroes rather than dr*g dealers, gangsters, and miscreants?

So, to see how chivalrous Louis is—to see that exemplified through his character—is beautiful.

One of our favorite moments in the book is when Louis makes the promise to Kei: "I’m going for Anne, now, Mr. Engliesin. I’m keeping my promise, sir. I’ll get her back."

This statement is loaded with chivalry and honor. He is making a promise to a girl's dad that he will be her hero. Good!

Louis coping and coming to grips with what has happened to Anne is truly touching. He sees pictures of Anne growing up, seeing her as a real person—a whole person—who worked hard in school, was good to him (and others), and deserves to be alive and free.

There's a moment when Louis pays a small yet powerful tribute to Anne by singing "Greensleeves"--the song that Anne sang to him, albeit much more beautifully. The lyrics take up a whole new context in this scene. He reflects on the final verse:

"Ah, Greensleeves, now farewell, adieu,
To God I pray to proper thee,
For I remain thy lover true,
Come once again and be with me."

This verse is loaded with subtext in this context. It reflects the feeling of lovers being apart and wanting to be together again, asking God to keep them safe in the meantime.

This is our favorite scene in the entire book.

Another thing that great about Louis and Anne is the amount of wear and tear they take and endure together throughout the book. There's a time they're trudging through mud. There's a scene in which the two characters are in the blistering cold and Anne loses feeling in her feet and legs. Louis assures her that he's there for her and tries to carry her.

The first 400 or so pages are some of the most engaging, compelling fiction we read this year. Unfortunately, this book loses a ton of momentum and starts to meander in its last 124 or so pages, focusing on characters we simply didn't care as much about.

We cared a little bit about Larimore, but what about the others?

There's Britanny, Hayden, Deidre, Nym, McIlroy, and the three bullies we mentioned earlier. Not to be dismissive, but neither of them hit the same way that Louis and Anne. They watered things down. Bogged it down. Muddied the water.

This book starts to venture into magical realism and the supernatural. We learn from Kei that there are special places where dimensions/realms rub faces and collide at certain times—portals, in a sense.

We learn about the Daoine Sith.
We learn about Celtic mythic entities.
We learn about Epiales, a spirit-daemon who is the personification of nightmares.

We see the aptly-named Icelos, who blurs the boundaries between dream and reality. The narrative shifts from grounded psychological drama into a mythic struggle where Louis and Anne are swept into forces beyond their understanding or control. Instead of sticking with the emotional journeys of the central pair, the book begins to spread its attention thinly across a wider cast and a tangle of supernatural threats, dreamworld sequences, and philosophical meditations.

There’s value in this ambitious scope, but the price is intimacy. The emotional throughline—the heartache, promise, and connection between Louis and Anne—gets diluted. The villains, once menacingly human, become less interesting as their motivations turn vague or allegorical. The story’s urgency softens as it leans harder into exposition and mythos-building, at times sacrificing clarity and pace.

And let's talk about how involved the three bullies get in the plot.
On one hand, we think they're supposed to serve as comic relief.
We think they're supposed to be like Nelson from The Simpsons or Bulk & Skull from Mighty Morphin Power Rangers.

There is a particularly funny line when Collin shouts "Use your mighty midget powers!” to Guillemore, who is diminutive.

That got a laugh out of us.

And there are times when the bullies are somewhat clever. One of them opens a door knob with their shirt and avoids touching the beverage the investigator provides for him so as to not leave incriminating fingerprints.

However, we just didn't care that much about them—not so much that they had to become so involved in the last half of this book.

Why not just stick with Louis, Anne, and maybe Larimore? Why split the reader's focus with these superfluous characters and subplots?

Ok, well, there is one subplot and character dynamic that kinda got to shine in the book's last hundred pages, and that's the relationship between Louis and his mother. For much of the book, Louis didn't seem to have a very good, loving relationship wit her. In fact, it seemed like he was afraid to get too close and tell her things because she would always jump to conclusions and be on his case about everything.

Again: relatable.

There's actually a very nice scene with Louis and his mother near the end of this book.

Anyway, we enjoyed this book overall.

Check it out on Amazon!