Midnight for Charlie Bone: The Children of the Red King #1

“My sisters are coming to assess you, Charlie. And if it is found that you are worthy—that you are, as I suspect, endowed—then they will provide the necessary funds to send you to Bloor’s Academy.”

This line from Grandma Bone reveals a critical part of the family dynamics in Charlie’s home. The whole situation of the family hinges on the opinion of the Yewbeams, and whether Charlie is worthy of support isn’t based on his own merit or achievements but on whether he fits their narrow idea of value through the possession of powers. While Bloor’s Academy could offer Charlie a chance to develop said powers, it also represents the family’s attempt to control him. The formal diction of the word “assess” shows how Charlie is subject to this control and value judgment.

“The storm blew itself out. The rain stopped. The wind died and the cathedral clock struck midnight. On the twelfth stroke, Charlie felt a sudden, strange breathlessness. Something was happening to him. It was as if he were passing through a moment when he might live or die.”

In folklore, midnight often represents a liminal space and a time when reality blurs with the supernatural. Charlie’s feeling of his powers awakening aligns his story with those of other classic heroes in fiction, where the hero undergoes a transformative call. This is when he transitions from passive observer to active participant in the mysteries about to unfold.

“These cats aren’t ordinary. They know things. They chose me because I’ve got a special way with animals. They lead me here and there, trying to undo mischief, and I just follow, helping where I can.”

Mr. Onimous’s comment about the Flames alludes to their true nature, which will become clear later in the book: They are the magical leopards of the Red King in disguise, here to help the good side of the battle between the endowed. They are the Red King’s symbolic representatives in the narrative. This symbol also draws on the folkloric concept of the “familiar,” an animal companion that shares special power or knowledge with its human.

“You brought them here, you wretched boy. You’re like a magnet. Bad blood mixed with endowed. It never works. I won’t rest easy until you’re shut up in Bloor’s.”

The quote reinforces the conflict within Charlie’s family revolving around legacy. The Yewbeams believe in genetic purity, and Lyell’s decision to marry Amy Jones has forever tainted Grandma Bone’s view of Charlie, despite him having powers like she wanted. It hints at her fear regarding the Flames, as she and her family are on the “evil” side of the war among the descendants of the Red King. The short, percussive sentences emphasize Grandma Bone’s anger and disdain, combining with her derogatory vocabulary for addition force.

“Did you mind […] being a Yewbeam, when you found out that it meant being different?”

Charlie’s question to Paton reflects his own apprehensions and uncertainties about his newfound powers and the legacy of his family. He was settled in his ordinariness, but now that he is unwillingly fulfilling the expectations of the paternal side of his family, he is struggling to maintain his identity.

“Your father had a grand piano. It stood in the center of a large, bright room. The only things in the room were the piano and Lyell, your father. Through the long windows there was a view of the lake, but your father never looked at it. He gazed at his music while his fingers found the notes. And he would cast his spell.”

Here, Grandma Bone has a rare moment of vulnerability when describing her son, Charlie’s father. While Lyell is not endowed, her reference to him “casting spells” through his art clarifies his importance to her through the connection she makes between him and that which she and her family value. The memory adds complexity to an otherwise antagonistic character. The idyllic language of the memory has a dreamlike quality that mirrors the “spell” described.

“I want to wish you luck. It’s not easy changing schools at the best of times, and Bloor’s Academy isn’t an easy place. What you have to do will be difficult and dangerous, but remember, you’ve been chosen to rescue a life that’s been stolen.”

Mr. Onimous’s words are both a warning and a mission statement for Charlie. This is echoed by Mr. Onimous’s name, a close anagram of “ominous.” By saying Charlie was “chosen,” he frames the coming difficulties at the school not as misfortunes, but a part of a purpose. The language points to the weight of responsibility on Charlie’s shoulders, emphasizing the stakes as he embarks on his search for Emma Tolly.

“Whatever is in it was swapped for a baby. I want to swap it back again so Miss Ingledew can see her niece. It doesn’t seem fair, does it, that the baby’s only relative can’t find her?”

Charlie’s statement demonstrates his sense of empathy and his commitment to righting wrongs, even when it puts him at odds with his own family. The simplicity of his words captures how clear his view of the injustice is, in contrast to the manipulation and secrecy surrounding the situation. The final question is a rhetorical device that speaks more directly to the reader, encouraging their moral engagement and agreement.

“Manfred opened a red file box, extracted a piece of paper, and handed it to Charlie. ‘The rules. Study them. Learn them, Bone.’”

Bloor’s Academy is a rigid and authoritarian place, where adherence to discipline takes precedence over individuality or empathy, an ironic contrast with the artistic nature of the children in attendance. The scene also reflects the power dynamics between Manfred and the other students, especially Charlie. As Head Boy, he is a gatekeeper of the school’s hierarchy and uses it as a tool for intimidation. The short, abrupt phrases are almost rude, certainly stern, emphasizing this hierarchy.

“You don’t understand. I can’t wear it, I can’t. It’s full of…of horror. Its fear drags me down.”

This quote summarizes Gabriel’s endowment: the ability to sense the emotions and the experiences of those who previously owned an item of clothing. For Gabriel, his ability is often more of a curse than a gift, as he is burdened with these residual emotions. His suffering shows how the idea of a “gifted” child is a double-edged sword. While he has power, that power means that the everyday becomes traumatic. The ellipsis expresses Gabriel’s distress, as he struggles to put his emotions into words.

“‘My father wore that tie. He died when I was two. Why did you say he was lost?’ ‘Because he is,’ said Gabriel’s sleepy voice.”

Gabriel’s revelation that Lyell Bone isn’t dead completely flips Charlie’s view of his past, and not for the first time in the story. First, he learns that his father’s accidental death wasn’t an accident at all but a murder. Now, he is told unequivocally that his father isn’t dead at all. This establishes a long-term goal for Charlie’s character throughout the series. Because Lyell was only hypnotized, he can still be saved.

“They were like flames, red and orange and yellow. They thanked me, very politely, and then they told me the Red King had sent them.”

Billy’s recounting of his meeting with the Flames finally reveals who started the fire at the beginning of the book. However, it further cements the cats’ connection to the long-deceased Red King. They are his messengers and assistants in the conflict between his descendants who attempt to right the wrongs caused by his corrupted children.

“One day I might be adopted […] I’ll have parents again, and I’ll be able to go home like everyone else.”

Billy’s wistful thoughts about his adoption show the emotional toll that the Bloors inflict on the vulnerable. His yearning to be “like everyone else” shows the isolation he feels as an orphaned, endowed child who remains trapped at the academy even when others can go home. His words speak directly to the sympathies of the middle-grade reader, as Billy lacks the basic security and home life that many children accept as routine. Nimmo’s compassionate portrayal of Billy creates an identifiable character, perhaps especially important for young readers who experience insecurity or precarity in their family lives.

“‘He won’t respond,’ hissed Manfred. ‘He keeps blocking me. He can play mind games, too.’”

Charlie’s abilities put him in direct conflict with Manfred and his powers. While Charlie’s defiance shows his own power, it also reveals Manfred’s weaknesses. Despite his power, Manfred is shaken by his loss of control, and he lashes out in frustration. The lack of composure weakens his attempts at intimidation and shows that his authority is not as absolute as he pretends. The diction “mind games” is a derogatory turn of phrase that emphasizes Manfred’s selfish characterization and the antagonism between the two characters.

“I blame myself. Keeping one’s head down is just not good enough. I knew something was going on, I can’t deny it. Those sisters of mine were plotting and whispering.”

Paton’s frustration comes from the recognition that his continued choice to remain passive in his family’s conflicts had significant consequences, not only for himself, but for his family, and for those affected by the Bloors’ and Yewbeams’ cruelty. By turning a blind eye to his sisters’ actions, he enabled their abuse of others, including Charlie and Lyell. The admission is a critical turning point for Paton, and his self-blame becomes a catalyst for him to join Charlie in fighting back.

“I’ve got just the mom and dad for you. They’re wonderful people and they’re very, very excited to have you.”

For Billy, the prospect of adoption is his biggest vulnerability, fueled by his feelings of isolation and self-doubt. Ezekiel capitalizes on this to establish control over Billy by offering him an idealized version of family and belonging—a life that Billy always imagined for himself but was never allowed to have. Ezekiel’s kindness is a thinly veiled and calculated manipulation of the boy so he will agree to spy on Charlie, someone Billy considers to be a friend. Rather than allowing Billy to have support, the Bloors take advantage of his innocence and mold him into their pawn. Ezekiel’s simple language and concepts, “mom and dad,” “very, very excited,” evoke the fairy-tale diction familiar to children from infancy. This mitigates Billy’s mistake while signaling to the reader that the promise is too good to be true.

“It’s war, Benjamin […] Something that’s been waiting to happen for a long time. Until now, they’ve had it all their own way, but they’ve gone too far, and some of us are just not going to stand for it!”

This statement from Paton marks a decisive shift in the story. While the Yewbeams and the Bloors ruled through intimidation for years, their exploitation of power has reached a breaking point and Paton, a previously passive character, has finally decided to act. There is a growing resistance, and it has finally become a threat. This passage is an example of how Paton’s fluency has increased during the story along with his confidence. The exclamation mark emphasizes his new-found conviction.

“I’m Emma Tolly now, and Emma won’t stand for it. Emma is a persevering person.”

Emma’s declaration isn’t just a reclamation of her name, but of her sense of self-worth, independence, and determination to cast aside the docility that characterized her prior life as Emilia Moon. Emma breaking free is another crack in the repressive—and previously total—authority of the Bloors and the Yewbeams. By making Emma use her name in the third-person point of view, the novel shows that that she is learning to inhabit her new self and sees this as an opportunity for reinvention and agency.

“If only I hadn’t insisted on dinner. If we’d stayed at home, eaten by candlelight…She thinks I’m a freak. Forget her, Paton. She’ll never forgive you.”

Paton’s self-doubt over his failed date with Miss Ingledew shows that, despite his recent courage to stand up to his sisters, he still feels isolated due to his abilities. It reinforces the thread that runs through the arcs of characters like himself and Charlie of being caught between a desire for normalcy and the responsibility to use their powers for good. This passage is an example of Nimmo’s regular combination of pathos and humor to explore more complex and adult emotions. The simplicity of Paton’s description, including the middle-grade diction “freak,” makes his experience relevant to the concerns of a young readership who may be exploring their early proto-romantic relationships.

“Emma stared at the shelves of rich, mellow books, their gold-tooled letters glowing in the soft light. She breathed in the smell of old paper and leather and print and, with a deep sigh, she declared it to be the most wonderful room in the world.”

After years trapped in a home devoid of warmth, Emma finally experiences actual comfort in her aunt’s bookshop. Nimmo’s imagery paints a sensory-rich picture of a room filled with knowledge, imagination, and familial connection, creating a stark juxtaposition to the Moon household.

“They made a strange trio: the African, the boy with yellow electrified hair, and the skinny one with the long, solemn face. Shoulder to shoulder they walked […] None of the teachers could stop the three boys.”

Here, the threads of resistance and solidarity finally emerge in a tangible form as Gabriel, Tancred, and Lysander come together to help Charlie as “children of the Red King” (261). While different, they are united against the malevolent forces ruling the academy. They are emblematic of the novel’s message of unity and equity despite apparent differences.

“In the silence that followed, a cloud of paper floated gently from an upstairs window. Slowly it spun and hovered, before falling to earth like playful, giant snowflakes. As he ran to catch the falling papers, Paton began to chuckle. The chuckle became a full-throated laugh, and then a resounding roar.”

Paton’s triumphant laughter and the lighthearted description of Emma’s falling papers contrast with the sinister nature of Bloor’s Academy. The simile of snow emphasizes the joy of this moment. This moment shows that justice and joy are possible, even in the face of such overwhelming darkness. While the surrender helps Emma, it is a personal triumph for Paton over the institution that has held himself and those he cares about in its grip. He has symbolically reclaimed freedom for her and all the students harmed by the Bloors’ influence.

“I know I said I wouldn’t, but I’ve changed my mind. It’s a good school, after all, and I’ve got a really great art teacher. And Fidelio and Olivia are still there, and Charlie, of course. They’re not scared of anything, besides […] there are other things…other children, I mean, who might need me. So I’m going back.”

Although she is newly free from the academy’s oppressive hold, Emma chooses to go back, not out of obligation, but out of a sense of purpose and loyalty to her friends. Despite its dangers, the academy holds a community of friends who support and protect one another. Having reclaimed her identity, Emma is aware that she can now help others who are similarly trapped or in need.