The Paladin Prophecy: Book 1

( 31 )

Overview

Readers of I Am Number Four, The Maze Runner, and Legend will love this exciting new adventure series by the co-creator of the groundbreaking television show Twin Peaks, with its unique combination of mystery, heart-pounding action, and the supernatural.

Will West is careful to live life under the radar. At his parents' insistence, he's made sure to get mediocre grades and to stay in the middle of the pack on his cross-country team. Then Will ...

See more details below
Audiobook (CD)
$48.84
BN.com price
(Save 9%)$54.00 List Price
Other sellers (Audiobook)
  • All (5) from $28.37   
  • New (3) from $28.37   
  • Used (2) from $28.38   
Note: Visit our Teens Store.
Sending request ...

Overview

Readers of I Am Number Four, The Maze Runner, and Legend will love this exciting new adventure series by the co-creator of the groundbreaking television show Twin Peaks, with its unique combination of mystery, heart-pounding action, and the supernatural.

Will West is careful to live life under the radar. At his parents' insistence, he's made sure to get mediocre grades and to stay in the middle of the pack on his cross-country team. Then Will slips up, accidentally scoring off the charts on a nationwide exam.

Now Will is being courted by an exclusive prep school . . . and followed by men driving black sedans. When Will suddenly loses his parents, he must flee to the school. There he begins to explore all that he's capable of—physical and mental feats that should be impossible—and learns that his abilities are connected to a struggle between titanic forces that has lasted for millennia.

Read More Show Less

Editorial Reviews

From Barnes & Noble

His parents told him to be conscientiously mediocre, but Will West fouled up: He aced a nationwide exam that gave him a free ticket to a prestigious prep school, but his off the charts score also earned him a stubborn stalker contingent: He finds himself followed by mysterious men in a black sedan. Mark Frost's Paladin Prophecy launch hides some of its secrets in plain sight and incites excitement at every turn. Now in trade paperback and NOOK Book.

From the Publisher
Chris Columbus, director of Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone:
"Mark Frost has created a wonderfully inventive and exciting tale where one exceptional teenager must discover the truth about his family . . . and himself. The mysteries are unexpected and the mythology is impressively original. A remarkably suspenseful ride. I can’t wait for the next installment!"

Booklist, September 15, 2012:
"Frost, screenwriter and cocreator of the innovative TV series Twin Peaks, joins the parade of adult authors trying their hands at YA books with this first in a planned series. Making an assured transition, Frost delivers an addictive Jason Bourne/Pittacus Lore/Harry Potter mash-up. Teen Will West has shaped his life by his father’s “Rules to Live By,” especially number three: “Don’t Draw Attention to Yourself.” Throughout many moves, Will has learned to appear mediocre until one morning, when he learns that he has scored off the charts on a national test and is offered a full scholarship to an exclusive prep school. After receiving a terrifying text from his father, Will flees to the school only to discover that he and his new roommates possess hidden talents and are linked to an ancient struggle for world domination. Nonstop action and a richly layered plot propel a breakneck pace, and if the characters fit a tried-and-true trope, the skillful dialogue and touches of humor make that easy to overlook. A cliff-hanger ending will have readers begging for the sequel."

Alamosa Books, Albuquerque, New Mexico:
"Anybody who loves adventure, thriller, or mystery must have this book! I don’t have the time to reread anymore. But I’ve already made time to read this twice. And I want to give it a third go. This is the best adventure book I have read in years. I can just see Dad’s Rules going viral. Best read the book before the obscure numbered tweets show up!"

Ashley (booknook)'s Reviews on GoodReads.com
"This book totally awed me. It’s like Harry Potter school fantasy meets kids-save-the-world Percy Jackson meets mind-blowing 'OH MY GOD I WANT THAT' technology meets the page-turning awe that is Dan Brown conspiracy, history-brought-to-life, secret society. Put it all together and you get this incredibly original story that will suck you in and won’t let you go."

The Book Stall, Chicago
"The Paladin Prophecy blends terror and comedy into one fast-paced, adrenaline-inducing must-read. Readers will stay up into the small hours of the morning to finish, and then the first thing on their minds will be, 'When does the sequel come out?'"

Kirkus Reviews, August 15, 2012:
"New school and new mental powers meet ancient mysteries and ancient war."

Publishers Weekly, July 23, 2012:
"Frost, adult author and Twin Peaks co-creator, makes his YA debut with this densely plotted thriller, first in a trilogy. His story has serious entertainment value and pulls together satisfyingly by book's end, while laying the groundwork for the sequels."

The New York Times, November 11, 2012:
"Mark Frost, a co-creator, with David Lynch, of the seminal 1990s series "Twin Peaks," is no stranger to the art of suspense. It's unsurprising, then, that "The Paladin Prophecy," his first venture into young adult literature (he's written nine books for adults), contains thrills and plot twists in spades... A superhero coming-of-age tale... Heart-pounding... Breakneck pace... This is young adult literature as popcorn blockbuster."

A Kids' Indie Next List Pick, Autumn 2012
A Virginia Readers' Choice master list selection, 2013.

The New York Times Book Review
The Paladin Prophecy is a superhero coming-of-age tale, and the action is delightfully comic-book-like. Frost's simple writing style, which reads almost like a screenplay, works well for this type of heart-pounding story…This is young adult literature as popcorn blockbuster. And Frost's consummate skill with suspense means reluctant readers should have no trouble breezing through its 547 pages.
—Marie Lu
Publishers Weekly
Frost, adult author and Twin Peaks co-creator, makes his YA debut with this densely plotted thriller, first in a trilogy. After a lifetime of keeping a low profile, 15-year-old Will West is forced to live up to his true potential when strange forces take over his parents’ minds and he seeks refuge at the elite Center for Integrated Learning, a prep school for the gifted. There, he’s confronted by a demanding academic schedule, but encouraged to embrace his abilities as a superhumanly fast runner and a scholastic genius. He befriends his roommates, investigates his parents’ odd behavior, is targeted by a malevolent secret society, and discovers the extent of his superhuman abilities. Disparate elements —super-science, evil conspiracies, genetic engineering, an extensive cosmology featuring a war between good and evil—give this adventure something of a split identity. Despite the feeling that Frost threw in everything but the kitchen sink, his story has serious entertainment value and pulls together satisfyingly by book’s end, while laying the groundwork for the sequels. Ages 12–up. Agent: Ed Victor, Ed Victor Ltd. (Sept.)
VOYA - Paula Willey
Will West has never had any close friends. He and his parents have never lived in one place long enough. Why do they move so often? Why do Will’s parents, who love him very much, discourage him from excelling in school or in sports? What is with all the rules Will’s father drills into him--rules like, “Let people underestimate you;” “Learn the difference between tactics and strategy;” “Never start a fight unless you can finish it.” Will has never really asked these questions, and now, with men in black on his tail and invisible monsters chasing him, with his mother kidnapped and his father accessible only by text, it is a little too late to start asking. Close readers may detect a whiff of abilities-based elitism, and bad guys are clearly coded--unattractive, bad breath, etc. Nonwhite characters either hew closely to hoary stereotypes (a Latino cabbie who calls Will “esse,” “holmes,” and “cabron” in the space of two pages; immense Samoan security guards who are all “friendly, trustworthy, and incorruptible”) or are dramatically opposed for comic effect (an ethnically South Asian boy with a deep Southern accent). Although flawed by these ham-handed depictions, The Paladin Prophecy is action packed and loaded with easily deciphered mysteries, and will satisfy fantasy/adventure readers. Ages 11 to 14.
School Library Journal
Gr 7 Up—Will West has tried to obscure his special abilities all his life, at his parents' request. He makes a point of getting average grades, and he is careful to hold back when running cross country. However, when he gets a phenomenally high score on a standardized test, he finds himself running from strangers in black sedans who have abducted his parents and are targeting him for some reason. His only hope is to make his way to the Center for Integrated Learning, which has contacted him after finding out about his test score. Once there, Will can unleash his hidden physical and psychic abilities, but he and his new friends must also contend with school bullies who are part of a group connected to otherworldly beings from the Never Was. There is nothing terribly original here. The story is long on action and high-tech gadgetry, but short on plausibility, even for a sci-fi/fantasy novel; for example, the taxi driver who has just met Will smuggles him past a police roadblock, gives him an untraceable cell phone, and subsequently carries out complex espionage missions for him. Much of the plot, including the mysterious Paladin Prophecy, is unclear, though this may be cleared up in the next volume. While this title might appeal to readers of Pittacus Lore's I Am Number Four (HarperCollins, 2010), its length may prove discouraging to reluctant readers. A film version is due out in 2014.—Kathleen E. Gruver, Burlington County Library, Westampton, NJ
Kirkus Reviews
New school and new mental powers meet ancient mysteries and ancient war. Fifteen-year-old Will West's parents have moved him around a lot, and his father's taught him 99 rules to live by. One of the most important rules: Don't draw attention to yourself. When Will accidentally draws the attention of (and a scholarship from) the prestigious Center for Integrated Learning, it's a lucky thing, because his world shatters; he needs an avenue of escape. Arriving at the school, Will finds the mystery back home deepening. Who is he? And is his father safe? He makes new friends, and all of them must face an ever-widening net of conspiracies that make them question everything they know about reality and the history of the world. Twin Peaks co-creator Frost's first for young readers is a slick, hot mess of Judeo-Cthulhu-an, sci-fantasy palaver. The constant quoting of Dad's rules wears thin early on. Will's interactions with a helpful taxi driver from home while at school are stupefyingly improbable. The tale stumbles at nearly every turn: The plotting is clumsy, the dialogue is unrealistic, and the characters so annoying readers will be rooting for the bad guys. The fantasy elements are interesting enough, but they're strangled in an overabundance of detail and long-winded, extraneous scenes, making this twice as long as it should be--especially given the "Book 1" on the spine. Superficial adventure with arbitrary authorial intrusions at every plot twist. (Fantasy. 12-16)
Read More Show Less

Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780449014837
  • Publisher: Random House Audio Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 9/25/2012
  • Format: CD
  • Age range: 12 years
  • Product dimensions: 5.10 (w) x 5.90 (h) x 1.70 (d)

Meet the Author

MARK FROST studied directing and playwriting at Carnegie Mellon University. He partnered with David Lynch to create and executive produce the groundbreaking television series Twin Peaks. Frost cowrote the screenplays for the films Fantastic Four and Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer. He is also the New York Times bestselling author of eight previous books, including The List of Seven, The Second Objective, The Greatest Game Ever Played, and The Match. 

Read More Show Less

Read an Excerpt

PROLOGUE

I couldn’t see his face.

He was running along a mountain trail. Running desperately. Pursued by black grasping shadows that were little more than holes in the air, but there was no mistaking their intention. The boy was in unspeakable danger and he needed my help.

I opened my eyes.

Curtains fluttered at the dark window. Freezing air whispered through a crack in the frame, but I was drenched in sweat, my heart pounding.

Just a dream? No. I had no idea who this boy was. He appeared to be about my age. But I knew this much with iron certainty:

He was real, and he was headed my way.


CHAPTER 1: JUST ANOTHER TUESDAY

The importance of an orderly mind . . .

Will West began each day with that thought, even before he opened his eyes. When he did open them, the same words greeted him on a banner across his bedroom wall:

#1: THE IMPORTANCE OF AN ORDERLY MIND.

In capital letters a foot high. Rule #1 on Dad’s List of Rules to Live By. That’s how crucial his father considered this piece of advice. Remembering it was one thing. Following Rule #1, with a mind as hot-wired as Will’s, wasn’t nearly as easy. But wasn’t that why Dad had put it on top of his list, and on Will’s wall, in the first place?

Will rolled out of bed and stretched. Flicked on his iPhone:

7:01. He punched up the calendar and scanned his schedule. Tuesday, November 7:

• Morning roadwork with the cross-country team
• Day forty-seven of sophomore year
• Afternoon roadwork with the cross-country team

Nice. Two runs sandwiching seven hours of Novocain for the brain. Will took a greedy breath and scratched his fingers vigorously through his unruly bed head. Tuesday, November 7, shaped up as a vanilla, cookie-cutter day. Not one major stress clouding the horizon.

So why do I feel like I’m about to face a firing squad?

He triple-racked his brain but couldn’t find a reason. As he threw on his sweats, the room lit up with a bright, cheerful sunrise. Southern California’s most tangible asset: the best weather in the world. Will opened the curtains and looked out at the Topa Topa Mountains rising beyond the backyard.

Wow. The mountains were cloaked with snow from the early winter storm that had blown through the night before. Backlit by the early-morning sun, they were sharper and cleaner than high-def. He heard familiar birdsong and saw the little white- breasted blackbird touch down on a branch outside his window. Tilting its head, curious and fearless, it peered in at him as it had every morning for the last few days. Even the birds were feeling it.

So I’m fine. It’s all good.

But if that was how he really felt, then what had stirred up this queasy cocktail of impending doom? The hangover from a forgotten nightmare?

An unruly thought elbowed its way into his mind: This storm brought more than snow.

What? No idea what that meant—wait, had he dreamt about snow? Something about running? The silvery dream fragment faded before Will could grab it.

Whatever. Enough of this noise. Time to stonewall this funk-u-phoria. Will drove through the rest of his morning routine and skipped downstairs.

Mom was in the kitchen working on her second coffee. With reading glasses on a lanyard around her thick black hair, she was tapping her phone, organizing her day.

Will grabbed a power shake from the fridge. “Our bird’s back,” he said.

“Hmm. People-watching again,” she said. She put down her phone and wrapped her arms around him. Mom never passed up a good hug. One of those committed huggers for whom, in the moment, nothing else mattered. Not even Will’s mortification when she clinch-locked him in public.

“Busy day?” he asked.

“Crazy. Like stupid crazy. You?”

“The usual. Have a good one. Later, Moms.”

“Later, Will-bear. Love you.” She jangled her silver bracelets and got back to her phone as Will headed for the door. “Always and forever.”

“Love you, too.”

Later, and not much later, how he would wish that he’d stopped, gone back, held on to her, and never let go.

Will reached the base of their front steps and shook out his legs. Sucked in that first bracing hit of clean, cold morning air and exhaled a frosty billow, ready to run. It was his favorite part of the day . . . and then that droopy dreadful gloom crept all over him again.

#17: START EACH DAY BY SAYING IT’S GOOD TO BE ALIVE. EVEN IF YOU DON’T FEEL IT, SAYING IT—OUT LOUD—MAKES IT MORE LIKELY THAT YOU WILL.

“Good to be alive,” he said, without much conviction. Damn. Right now #17 felt like the lamest rule on Dad’s list.

He could blame some obvious physical gripes. It was forty-eight degrees and damp. His muscles creaked from yesterday’s weight training. A night of slippery dreams had left him short on sleep. I’m just out of whack. That’s all. I always feel better once I hit the road.

#18: IF #17 DOESN’T WORK, COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS.

Will hit the stopwatch app on his phone and sprang into a trot. His Asics Hypers lightly slapped the pavement.

1.4 miles to the coffee shop: target time, seven minutes.

He gave #18 a try.

Starting with Mom and Dad. All the kids he knew ripped their parents 24/7, but Will never piled on. For good reason: Will West had won the parent lottery. They were smart, fair, and honest, not like the phonies who preached values, then slummed like delinquents when their kids weren’t around. They cared about his feelings, always considered his point of view, but never rolled over when he tested the limits. Their rules were clear and balanced between lenient and protective, leaving him enough space to push for independence while always feeling safe.

Yeah, they have their strong points.

On the other hand: They were odd and secretive and perpetually broke and moved around like Bedouins every eighteen months. Which made it impossible for him to make friends or feel connected to any place they ever lived. But, hey, what do you need a peer group for when your parents are your only friends? So what if that messed him up massively for the rest of his life? He might get over it, someday. After decades of therapy and a barge full of antidepressants.

There. Blessings counted. Always works like a charm, thought Will dryly.

Will had shaken off the morning chill by the end of the second block. Blood pumping, his endorphins perked up his nervous system as the Valley stirred to life around him. He quieted his mind and opened his senses, the way his parents had taught him. Took in the smoky tang of wild sage and the oxygen-rich air of the orchards lining the East End roads, wet and shiny from the rain. A dog barked; a car started. Miles to the west, through the gap in the hills, he glimpsed a cobalt-blue strip of the Pacific catching the first beams of sunrise.

Good to be alive. He could almost believe it now.

Will cruised toward town, down lanes of rambling ranch houses, grouped closer together as he moved along. After only five months here, he liked Ojai more than anywhere they’d ever lived. The small-town atmosphere  and country lifestyle felt comfortable and easy, a refuge from the hassles of big-city life. The town was nestled in a high, lush valley sheltered by coastal mountains, with narrow passes the only way in on either end. The original inhabitants, the Chumash people, had named it Ojai: the Valley of the Moon. After hundreds of years of calling Ojai home, the Chumash had been driven out by “civilization” in less than a decade. Tell the Chumash about “refuge.”

Will knew that his family would move on from this nearly perfect place, too. They always did. As much as he liked the Ojai Valley, he’d learned the hard way not to get attached to places or people—

A black sedan glided across the intersection a block ahead. Tinted glass on the side windows. He couldn’t see the driver.

They’re looking for an address they can’t find, Will thought. Then he wondered how he knew that.

A faint marimba ring sounded. He slipped the phone from his pocket and saw Dad’s first text of the day: HOW’S YOUR TIME?

Will smiled. Dad with his Caps Lock on again. Will had tried to explain texting etiquette to him about fifty times: “It’s like you’re SHOUTING!”

“But I am shouting,” Dad had said. “I’M WAY OVER HERE!”

Will texted back: how’s the conference? how’s San Fran? He could text while running. He could text while riding down a circular staircase on a unicycle—

Will pulled up short even before he heard the rasp of rubber on wet pavement. A dark mass slid into his peripheral vision.

The black sedan. Shrouded by exhaust, throttle rumbling in idle, dead ahead of him. A late model four-door, some plain domestic brand he didn’t recognize. Odd: no logos, trim, or identifying marks. Anywhere. A front license plate—generic, not California issue—with a small US flag tucked in one corner. But that was no civil service car pool engine under the hood. It sounded like a hillbilly NASCAR rocket.

He couldn’t see anyone behind the black glass—and remembered: tinting windshields this dark was illegal—but he knew someone inside was looking at him. Will’s focus narrowed, sounds faded. Time stopped.

Then a marimba broke the silence. Another text from Dad: RUN, WILL.

Without looking up, Will slipped his hoodie over his head and waved a faint apology at the windshield. He held up the phone, shaking it slightly as if to say, My bad. Clueless teenager here.

Will thumbed on the camera and casually snapped a picture of the back of the sedan. He slipped the phone into his pocket and eased back into his stride.

Make it look like you’re just running, not running away, Will thought. And don’t look back.

He trotted on, listening for the throaty engine. The car tached up and peeled off behind him, turning left and heading away.

Then Will heard someone say, “Fits the description. Possible visual contact.”

Okay, how did that voice get in his head? And whose voice was it?

The driver, came the answer. He’s talking on a radio. He’s talking about you.

Will’s heart thumped hard. With his conditioning, he had a resting pulse of fifty-two. It never hit triple digits until he was into his second mile. Right now it was north of a hundred.

First question: Did Dad just tell me to RUN (from San Francisco?!) because he wants me to stay on pace for my target time, or because somehow he knows that car is bad news—

Then he heard the sedan a block away, stomping through its gearbox, accelerating rapidly. Tires screamed: They were coming back.

Will cut into an unpaved alley. Behind him the sedan burst back onto the street he’d just left. Before the car reached the alley, Will veered right, hopped a fence, and jammed through a backyard littered with the wreckage of Halloween decorations. He vaulted over a chain-link fence into a narrow concrete run along the side of the house—

—and then, damn, a vicious blunt head burst out of a dog door to his right; a square snarling muzzle shot after him. He leaped onto the gate at the end of the run and scrambled over, just as the beast hurled its body into the fence, jaws snapping.

Half a block away, he heard the twin-hemi yowl as the car raced to the next corner. Will paused at the edge of the yard behind a towering hedge and gulped in air. He peeked around the hedge—all clear—then sprinted across the street, over a lawn, and past another house. A wooden fence bounded the rear yard, six feet high. He altered his steps to time his jump, grabbed the top, and leaped over, landing lightly in another alley—three feet from a weary young woman juggling a briefcase, a coffee flask, and her keys near a Volvo. She jolted as if she’d just been Tasered. Her flask hit the ground and rolled, leaking latte.

“Sorry,” said Will.

He crossed the alley and raced through two more yards, the sedan rumbling somewhere nearby all the while. He stopped at the next side street and leaned back against a garage. As his adrenaline powered down, he felt faintly ridiculous. Thoughts and instincts argued in his head, tumbling like sneakers in an empty dryer:

You’re perfectly safe. NO, YOU’RE IN DANGER. It’s just a random car. YOU HEARD WHAT THEY SAID. PAY ATTENTION, FOOL!

Another text from Dad hit the screen: DON’T STOP, WILL. Will motored down open streets through the outskirts of the business district. The team should be waiting at the diner by now. He’d duck inside and call Dad so he could hear his voice. But he realized he could hear it RIGHT NOW. Reminding him of a rule that Dad repeated like a fire drill:

#23: WHEN THERE’S TROUBLE, THINK FAST AND ACT DECISIVELY.

Will pulled up behind a church and peeked around. Two blocks away he saw the team, six guys in sweats outside the diner, RANGERS stitched across their backs. They were gathered around something at the curb he couldn’t see.

He checked the time, and his jaw dropped. No way that could be right: He’d  just covered the 1.4 miles from home, steeplechasing through backyards and fences . . . in five minutes?

Behind him, the snarling engine roared to life. He turned and saw the black car charging straight at him down the alley. Will broke for the diner. The sedan cornered hard behind him, swung around, and skidded to a halt.

Will was already two blocks away. He flipped up his hood, stuck his hands in his sweatshirt, and casually jogged up to the team.

“Whaddup,” he mumbled, trying to keep panic out of his voice.

The team mostly ignored him, as usual. He blended in, keeping his back to the street. They parted enough for him to see what they were looking at.

“Check it out, dude,” said Rick Schaeffer.

A badass tricked-out hot rod sat at the curb. It was like nothing Will had ever seen before, a matte black Prowler slung long and low on a custom chassis, with a slanted front grille and wheels gleaming with chrome. Bumpers jammed out in front like Popeye’s forearms. The manifolds of a monster V-8 burst out of the hood, oozing latent power. Baroque, steam-punk lines, crafted with sharp, finely etched venting, lined the body. The car looked both vintage and pristine, weirdly ageless, as if there were countless miles on this clean machine. A stranger’s ride for sure: No local could have kept these hellacious wheels under wraps. It might have come from anywhere. It might have come from the nineteenth century by way of the future.

Will felt eyes find him from behind the diner window. They landed hard, like somebody poking him in the chest with two stiff fingers. He looked up but couldn’t see inside; the sun had just crested the hills behind him, glaring off the glass.

“Don’t touch my ride.”

Will heard the voice in his head and knew it came from whoever was watching. Low, gravelly, spiked with a sharp accent, bristling with menace.

“Don’t touch it!” snapped Will.

Startled, Schaeffer jerked his hand away.

From the Hardcover edition.

Read More Show Less

Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4.5
( 31 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(23)

4 Star

(7)

3 Star

(1)

2 Star

(0)

1 Star

(0)

Your Rating:

Your Name: Create a Pen Name or

Barnes & Noble.com Review Rules

Our reader reviews allow you to share your comments on titles you liked, or didn't, with others. By submitting an online review, you are representing to Barnes & Noble.com that all information contained in your review is original and accurate in all respects, and that the submission of such content by you and the posting of such content by Barnes & Noble.com does not and will not violate the rights of any third party. Please follow the rules below to help ensure that your review can be posted.

Reviews by Our Customers Under the Age of 13

We highly value and respect everyone's opinion concerning the titles we offer. However, we cannot allow persons under the age of 13 to have accounts at BN.com or to post customer reviews. Please see our Terms of Use for more details.

What to exclude from your review:

Please do not write about reviews, commentary, or information posted on the product page. If you see any errors in the information on the product page, please send us an email.

Reviews should not contain any of the following:

  • - HTML tags, profanity, obscenities, vulgarities, or comments that defame anyone
  • - Time-sensitive information such as tour dates, signings, lectures, etc.
  • - Single-word reviews. Other people will read your review to discover why you liked or didn't like the title. Be descriptive.
  • - Comments focusing on the author or that may ruin the ending for others
  • - Phone numbers, addresses, URLs
  • - Pricing and availability information or alternative ordering information
  • - Advertisements or commercial solicitation

Reminder:

  • - By submitting a review, you grant to Barnes & Noble.com and its sublicensees the royalty-free, perpetual, irrevocable right and license to use the review in accordance with the Barnes & Noble.com Terms of Use.
  • - Barnes & Noble.com reserves the right not to post any review -- particularly those that do not follow the terms and conditions of these Rules. Barnes & Noble.com also reserves the right to remove any review at any time without notice.
  • - See Terms of Use for other conditions and disclaimers.
Search for Products You'd Like to Recommend

Recommend other products that relate to your review. Just search for them below and share!

Create a Pen Name

Your Pen Name is your unique identity on BN.com. It will appear on the reviews you write and other website activities. Your Pen Name cannot be edited, changed or deleted once submitted.

 
Your Pen Name can be any combination of alphanumeric characters (plus - and _), and must be at least two characters long.

Continue Anonymously

    If you find inappropriate content, please report it to Barnes & Noble
    Why is this product inappropriate?
    Comments (optional)