Ever since the Tortoise beat the Hare, storytellers have delighted to defy the expectations of their readers.  Yet some young readers defy authors to surprise them. Like Wrinkles Wallace, the ageless, unflappable fifth grader, they’ll always say, “I figured it would be like that.”

But Marquin Parks amazes his readers with a night school class for fifth graders, in which the teacher is a ruthless ten-year-old bent on failing his class and the students are social misfits no younger than eighteen and as old as seventy. Similar to the mischievous turns of Lewis Carroll, Marquin delights to upset all expectations in the story of Wrinkles Wallace and his motley classmates at Old Endings Preparatory School.

Wrinkles is a 28-year-old fifth grader who aims to reverse the reversals of his school life and graduate, bringing his dysfunctional classmates with him. This is a feat no less remarkable than Alice negotiating her path out of Wonderland.  He has to outwit his confident and relentless teacher, Sittin’ B. Quiet.  Mr. Quiet’s rules are as changeable as they are arbitrary, while the incorrigible students appear hopelessly resistant to self-improvement.

Lenny, the wheelchair-bound senior citizen, delights in verbal dissection of his classmates, even slashing the self-absorbed Urhiness (“Your Highness”), who is fatally attached to her mirror.  Spork aspires to be a world class chef, but her confections cross the border of revolting. Snooze earns his name by not waking up till Chapter 38, yet manages to retort with an articulate and well-timed snore on a few occasions.

If you are not tripped up by the role reversals, the earthy concoctions alleged to be food might be your downfall.  Few writers have stimulated the gag reflex with the skill of Marquin. Until the finale, nothing served up in this book could be considered appetizing. The class chef, Spork, composes a “Shark Knuckle Omelet” in an unforgettable paragraph in Chapter 8:

Spork’s only problem (besides not being able to cook) was finding the tofu to substitute for the actual shark knuckle.  So, like any cook would do, she improvised. Spork took off her shoes and removed her socks. She grabbed a bowl and a small cheese grater from the cabinet under the sink.  She began grating the dry skin off the bottom of her feet. She used a grapefruit spoon to get all the toe jam from between her toes. Then she clipped her toenails and put them in the bowl. Voila! She had homemade toe-food. (25)

While adult readers may be gagging, nothing could be more charming to the ten-year-old imagination.  Wrinkles Wallace receives three fingers down the throat for truly sickening imagery.

In casual conversation, Marquin sports a mischievous grin and twinkling eyes of one who knows the secret of making kids laugh. He manages a genial reserve among adults, but you know the impetuous Wrinkles is lurking just beneath the surface.  He has a firm grasp of the pre-adolescent psyche. The joy of halitosis, the charm of incompatible foods, the fascination of the drainage of various orifices, the delight in the explosion of a bag of fermenting “gunk.” All of it stokes the embers of highly flammable imaginations. Marquin Parks knows the ignition points.

More significantly, Marquin is a father and a fifth grade teacher, so he is rooting for the dauntless hero, Wrinkles.  He hopes he will reverse the balance of power that grips the “Knights of Night School” in chronic failure. He hopes they will learn the secrets of resolve and collaboration that transform the grotesque into the beautiful.  So the epic struggle rises above the sight gags and the stomach turns as it reaches the climax.

Some delightful puns (e.g. toe-food) are sprinkled throughout the book, giving a nod to subtle humor, but more often it celebrates the Muses of Gag and Farce, the gods of the belly-laugh. May you laugh and cry with your dinner in secure repose.
Wrinkles Wallace: Knights of Night School
Marquin Parks
Meridia Publishers, 2012
162 pages
ISBN: 978-0-9832330-5-3

Bill Tucker has spent twenty years teaching high school English and almost twenty years warning preservice teachers about all the mistakes he made in the first twenty years.  The Writing Project connects these two epochs of his professional life. Since 2000 he has directed the Eastern Michigan Writing Project, delighting in the many colleagues he can call friends, among them the author Marquin Parks, featured here. He lives in Ypsilanti Township, MI with his wife, Kathy, and his canine sidekick, Wysiwyg.