By Blythe Woolston
Black Helicopters is narrated by a girl named Valkyrie. Her father raised her and her brother, Bo, away from civilization, and they fear other people. They believe that everyone is out to get them, and, during the "present" chapters of the books - intermingled with flashbacks - Valkyrie goes out with a bomb strapped to her chest to blow something up. That's pretty much the whole story.
This book was one of the most unfulfilling stories I have ever read. At the end, I knew about as much as I did at the beginning; there was no discovery. Valkyrie was barely a character. I could not relate to her in any way. Her motivations were completely lost on me. I never really understood what she was trying to do, and even after I finished the book, I still couldn't figure out where it had been trying to go. Valkyrie was ageless in that anywhere-between-eight-and-eighteen way; it states that she's fifteen, but her character is so malleable and mushy that if it hadn't been explicitly stated, I would never have known. She was altogether a not very believable character. The black helicopters are an almost forced element of the book at times, and I found it to be an inappropriate title. The title should have hinted at some sort of theme in the book instead of simply pointing to one of the plot elements. I could have used the hint.
I give this book a 1. It is gruel. Tasteless, not particularly filling, and eaten only when there is nothing else to eat. If you think this book sounds interesting, read the back cover. That's a better story than what's between the covers, and you get the same amount out of it as you would if you read the whole thing.