Caught in the Crossfire: A Review of Freaks (Freaks, #1) by Brett Riley
Let me start by admitting how much I love a good underdog story. There’s something irresistible about characters who rise from the ashes of relentless bullying and rejection. When I first heard about Freaks by Brett Riley, I was intrigued—not only by its premise but also by how it navigates the often complex and painful world of adolescence. And while Freaks delivers on that front, it also leaves readers questioning the boundaries of genre and audience.
The novel kicks off with a scenario that sends a shiver down any empathetic reader’s spine: Micah Sterne, a ninth grader, becomes the target of brutal school bullies. The opening scene, though disturbingly comedic, sets the tone for a narrative rich with themes of friendship, identity, and perhaps most significantly, the dual nature of power. When Micah and his fellow outcasts break into a trunk filled with eccentric costuming and inadvertently invoke a spell that grants them superpowers, things take a wildly unpredictable turn. Imagine the chaos that ensues when the school’s biggest bully, Kenneth Del Ray, finds himself armed with powers of his own!
Riley’s characters are vividly drawn, from the lovable outcasts to the malevolent bullies. Micah is not just a victim; he grows in layers and depth throughout the novel. However, there’s a tension between the storyline and the author’s attempt at “wokeness,” which can often feel forced. Diversity is portrayed through the lens of students with a range of identities—like a lesbian girl and a Jewish character—but instead of coming across as authentic representation, it sometimes feels like a checklist was ticked off. However, this doesn’t overshadow Riley’s adept handling of dialogue; his characters speak with a rawness that, while occasionally jarring, captures the essence of teenage struggles, complete with the fun and silliness that can easily tip into a darker reality.
One thing I appreciated about Freaks was Riley’s writing style. His prose is dynamic, moving seamlessly between lighthearted banter and more serious undertones. There’s a rhythm to his sentences, a deftness to his tone that underscores the emotional highs and lows of adolescence. The pacing is well-crafted, making for a quick read filled with impactful moments. However, I couldn’t ignore the occasional disconnect that came from the work’s conflicting tones—one moment I was chuckling at endearing teenage antics, and the next I was struck by a heavy discourse on bullying and its repercussions.
As I rounded the corner toward the conclusion, I felt that Freaks ultimately leaves its readers pondering who it’s really for. It’s a story that straddles the line between young adult and adult fiction—one that grapples with the harsh realities of childhood while also infusing humor and escapism through fantastical elements. This could be a double-edged sword for parents or educators considering it for younger audiences.
For those who revel in stories about friendships forged in the hardest of times, and who appreciate a touch of supernatural flair, Freaks may be a worthwhile read. It certainly left me reflecting on the dynamics of power among peers and the willingness to stand together in the face of adversity. As unsettling and layered as adolescence itself, this book may appeal to teens and adults alike—just be prepared for moments that might ring a little too true for comfort.
In the end, Freaks may be a novel in search of a genre, but its heart beats for anyone who has ever felt like an outsider fighting to find their place in the world. Whether you’re a fan of YA lit or simply looking for a compelling dive into the chaotic world of adolescence, Riley’s debut certainly makes a statement.