But the herd was here, too. The herd would not divide. The herd would face this now, she knew that. If this was the end, they would not run from it. The air filled with explosions. The animals charged forwards, The battle was on.

Hennington is a seaside town in an unnamed country that lost its history in a Pol Pot-like regime nearly a century ago, so nobody knows why a crash of rhinoceros wanders the streets and parks of the town unmolested. The happily-married long-time mayor Cora Larsson is about to retire, but her chosen successor, Max Latham, seems strangely averse to starting his election campaign, so the reappearance of a man who has been obsessively in love with her for almost 40 years is a complication she could do without. As the election approaches the story becomes ever darker, as love, politics and religion collide, bringing havoc to Hennington.

There is a lot going on in Hennington over the few months before the election, and the story is told from multiple points of view, including the leader of the Crash. The only parts I didn't like were Max's tedious and interminable chats with his ten-year-old daughter Talon.

This is a fantastic book, and to think that I only picked it up at a library sale because the rhinoceros on the cover attracted my attention! I had vaguely heard of Patrick Ness but have never read anything else by him, but after reading "The Crash of Hennington", his other books are definitely going on my wish list. ( )

Is there any finer feeling in the world than the accidental discovery of a favourite book?

It doesn’t happen often. Usually, word of mouth and/or critical praise reaches the readers’ ears beforehand, lending an imposed expectation upon the work itself. You may end up loving it anyway, but the sheer thrill of discovery is sadly absent from the experience.

At other times – all too often, really – the impulsive purchase of a previously-unheard-of novel leads to crushing disappointment, as the reader is lured in by the over-effusive promotional blurbs of critics, only to discover too late that said critics must have been under the influence of alcohol at the time. Myself, I have had my belief system ripped asunder by the fact that Stephen King recommended the Bentley Little snore-fest THE WALKING, that Penguin Canada could promote Michael Slade’s contemptuously bad BED OF NAILS with a straight face, or that anyone, let alone quoted author Robert Crais, could find something of value in Dan Brown’s astoundingly abysmal bestseller THE DA VINCI CODE.

On rare occasions, however, the reader lucks out, and comes across an author that, for a multitude of reasons, has remained unknown to the individual up to that point. I cannot describe the joy I felt at discovering, on the sole recommendation of a friend in high school, the wondrous universe contained within Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.’s CAT’S CRADLE. How less fulfilling would my life had been had I not been exposed to Anthony Burgess’s A CLOCKWORK ORANGE and Saul Bellow’s HENDERSON THE RAIN KING during the same fateful English Literature class? Were it not for the fact that Mork from Ork was starring in the movie version at the time, I never would have read John Irving’s THE WORLD ACCORDING TO GARP. A chance encounter with Jim Dodge’s STONE JUNCTION in the sad piles of a remaindered bin has completely and forever altered the manner in which I view the world.

With this in mind, I realize the ultimate futility of recommending any book, lest the thrill of discovery be denied another hapless individual. If you care for the experience at all, read no further, save for my personal recommendation that you will enjoy Patrick Ness’ THE CRASH OF HENNINGTON. If, on the other hand, you need more information, read on, but be forewarned; HENNINGTON is one of those books that revolutionize your outlook on life; that alter your consciousness; that make you delighted to be alive if only to have the chance to revisit what Ness has accomplished. For THE CRASH OF HENNINGTON has, on one reading, reached the apex of treasured books in my collection. It is that good, and no amount of acclaim can adequately capture its warped magnificence.

The narrative occurs within the fictional city of Hennington, which exists in a world slightly off-centre from our own reality. Outside the scattered linguistic clues that Hennington lies outside our realm – a opiate of choice is called ‘Forum’, i.e. Heroin; prostitutes perform ‘clips’, i.e. tricks; a religion is known as ‘Rumour’, i.e. any of a multitude of possible minority groups - the biggest clue as to the city’s off-kilter existence is the presence of the Crash, a free-roaming assemblage of rhinoceros that has lived in peaceful co-existence amongst the population for an unknown length of time.

Through the municipality’s power structure meander enough characters to inundate a lesser author. For a first endeavor, Ness cannot be accused of playing it safe; HENNINGTON has an enormous cast of characters, each completely defined and full realized. There is Cora Larrson, “legendary Mayor of Hennington and remembered in a generation of matronymics;" Thomas Banyon, a fraudulent entrepreneur “born with legs so bowed he was said to have been straddling his mother’s womb rather than resting in it;" Max Latham, who “was trying to become Mayor of Hennington, but he wasn’t trying very hard;" and at least ten other inimitable individuals, all of whom are going to play some integral part in the future of Hennington, a future that nears the apocalypse.

What does it all mean? Like the best satires, HENNINGTON is open to an assortment of interpretations. Is it a religious lampoon? There does exist a fanatical element to the metropolis that threatens to overwhelm the common sense of the citizenry with scare tactics and scapegoatting, plus a messianic resurrection. Is it more a scrutiny of the follies of mankind, a la Vonnegut and Swift? Or is it a straightforward entreaty for the power of love? Certainly, every character’s definitive destiny has something to do with love, whether it be familial or romantic.

Is it flawless? No. It concludes too hurriedly, major characters fall by the wayside, there is a sense that Ness may have overreached himself and taken on too many themes. But novels are like people; if we admire them for its virtues, we love them for their faults.

And THE CRASH OF HENNINGTON is a novel to love, to cherish for its faults because it is too fine a novel not to. Ness is a major talent, and uncovering his brilliance is on a par with Vonnegut’s first effort, the classic PLAYER’S PIANO. Let us pray his career follows a parallel trajectory; he is eminently deserving of such a fate. ( )