As the case slowly went cold, new atrocities hit the news, burying the story of Etan's disappearance under fresh horrors. His parents still dutifully recorded every phone call they recevied, traipsed down to the police station for interviews and polygraphs, and investigated every "look alike" the detectives found, but one thing soon became obvious: The case was at a stand still. Federal prosecutor Stuart GraBois knew he couldn't let the case stagnate, couldn't let the Patzes down - determined to figure out what happened to Etan, he spent years in a dogged pursuit of the truth. After investigating several possible suspects, including the parents themselves, he honed in on a drifter with a history of violence toward children. GraBois refused to give up, even when Jose Antonio Ramos denied knowing Etan Patz. Although he never got a full confession out of Ramos, and never learned exactly what happened to the missing boy, the prosecutor's tenacious investigation of other of Ramos' victims put the dangerous predator away for the better part of his life. Maybe GraBois didn't crack the Etan Patz case wide open, but he did the next best thing - made sure Ramos could never again hurt a child. Without solid evidence to prove Ramos killed Etan, the child's case remains one of New York's unsolved mysteries.

Now, you're probably saying, "I guess there's no point in reading the book - Susan's just told me the whole plot." Well, that's correct, although the truth is that although this book chronicles the Etan Patz case, it's almost more about what happened because of the case: Because of Etan's disappearance, parents everywhere got a wake-up call about sexual predators. Because of his parents' ability to turn their own grief into something worthwhile, systems and laws were created that better protect and serve children. Because of young boys who bravely told their stories, a monster is behind bars. What started with man's inhumanity to man (although we don't know exactly what happened to Etan, we can assume it was nothing good) grew into something powerful, something important. It may have been too late to save Etan, but those whom he inspired have worked tirelessly to bring justice for all abused children. And that's what this story is really about.

Curiously, the thing I find most interesting about true crime stories - the psychological history of the perpetrator - was almost absent from After Etan. I think we all want to know what turns an innocent child into a person capable of committing unspeakable acts against another person. The book really didn't go into Ramos' history, which made the story seem incomplete. Maybe the investigators were just never able to turn up much information, but I would have liked to know (or maybe I'm better off not knowing) what made this guy tick. Other than that, I have no real criticisms. After Etan is certainly raw, it's definitely graphic, but it's also powerful and compelling. It's really a tribute to the dedication of law enforcement professionals, the bravery of victims courageous enough to speak out, and the plight of grieving families who allow their lives to be doubly torn apart in pursuit of justice. The fact that this book was published at all speaks volumes about the ability of one child to slip under our skin and into our hearts, pushing us harder to protect the most vulnerable among us - our children.

Grade: B

P.S. Interestingly, After Etan contains a couple of literary references. It includes a quote by Anna Quindlen, who worked for the New York Times between the late 1970s and early '90s. It also talks about Beth Gutcheon, who interviewed Julie Patz (Etan's mother) as part of her research for Still Missing. When the book came out, Julie was startled to find that the story mirrored her own so closely. Although she was grateful to Gutcheon for keeping the issue of missing kids in the spotlight, the novel "felt invasive to Julie, who also worried that readers would confuse the novel's fictional details - the disintegrating marriage of the boy's bereft parents, for example - with the real-life story of her family" (68). Interesting.

(Book image from After Etan's website)

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

You know how sometimes you want so much to love a book, but you just ... don't? That's what reading The Hourglass Door by Lisa Mangum was like for me. When Shadow Mountain offered me an ARC of the book, I jumped at the chance. After all, several LDS authors have praised Mangum's talents to me, her book is coming from a publisher I admire, and, judging by her blog/website, she just seems like a very nice person. I was hoping to add her name to the list of LDS authors I actually want to read - you know, people like Stephenie Meyer, Brandon Sanderson, Shannon Hale, Jessica Day George, James Dashner, etc. - but, based on her first novel, that's just not going to happen. Why not? Because this, her first novel, just isn't original enough to keep my attention. It's not different enough to survive in a market saturated by Twilight copycats. No, Mangum's not writing about vampires, but it's close enough to be irritating. Add in flat characters, stilted dialogue and a plot that doesn't always make sense and, well ... maybe you can understand my hesitation.

The story concerns high school senior Abby Edmunds, whose life is busy with college applications; play rehearsal; and her nice - if a tad bit predictable - boyfriend, Jason. A good girl who pretty much does what she's told, Abby longs for a little adventure in her life. So, when foreign exchange student Dante Alexander saunters into her school, she's more than a little intrigued. The sparks fly fast and furious between them, making Abby nervous, seeing as she has a boyfriend and all. Still, she's been assigned to integrate Dante into the cast of the school play, and that's just what she means to do. So what if he's standoffish with the other students, mysteriously absent for days at a time, blatantly avoids physical contact, and seems to be hiding something (Can you say Edward Cullen?) - he's obviously into Abby. Plus, he's about the hottest thing to walk the halls of her high school in about a million years.

Abby does have one slight problem - okay, two. For starters, Jason's not too happy about the time she's spending with Dante. The truth is, she's beginning to wonder if her "safe" relationship with Jason is really worth hanging onto. But hurting the guy she's known since childhood in favor of a wild card like Dante doesn't seem like a great idea either, especially since weird things seem to happen whenever he's around (that's problemo numero dos, if you're counting). Maybe she's crazy, but when she's with him, time literally seems to stand still. She knows there's a rational explanation. She just can't figure out what it is. Dante's cryptic answers to her questions just make things more confusing.

When she finally lands on the truth (well, Dante spills the beans), her world tilts a little. His confession changes things, but how much? Can she still trust him? Even when his secret may put her and everyone she loves in danger? Exactly how far is she willing to go for the one person who can take her away from her safe, predictable life? Is that even really what she wants? With time warping all around her, Abby's got to trust her heart - wherever it may lead.

The Hourglass Door starts with a bang; the prologue is taut, otherworldy and mysterious. It seems to promise an intriguing thrill ride with a little romance, a little sci. fi and a lot of suspense. It definitely left me wanting more. So, when Chapter 1 plunged me into the bland world of teenage Abby, I was a little disappointed. Pacing slowed way down, minutiae crowded out the mystery, and stale characters made it all a little ... dull. The middle of the story dragged, then picked up toward the end, but by that time it had become confusing and unrealistic. I mean, the blurb on the book's back cover states that Abby is "drawn into a mystery whose roots reach into sixteenth-century Florence," so I didn't expect reality reality, but still ... you know how Stephenie Meyer makes us actually believe that there are vampires running around Washington State? Mangum doesn't quite do that. Here, Dante's big secret just feels completely unbelievable. The story also let a lot of things dangle - I didn't understand why Dante bothered going to school, why he chose Abby out of all the other girls, or why no one (like her parents) cared about her obsessive relationship with a virtual stranger. Plus, the ending bugged big time. I guess what I'm trying to say is that this book just didn't work for me. I thought the idea behind the story had a lot of potential, but it just didn't quite deliver. I wish it had, because I really, really wanted to like this one, but it was just okay for me.

Now, once again, reviewers on Amazon and Barnes & Noble disagree with my assessments, so check those out before dismissing the book completely. Just because it didn't work for me doesn't mean it won't for you :)

Grade: C

(The Hourglass Door will be available on May 13)