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Though she has written a few shorter children's books in the past, Wild Things is the debut novel for Clay Carmichael, and it is an absolutely wonderful one. A reader can never be sure what to expect when encountering the work of an author previously unknown to him or her, but it took me only a few pages to recognize that the writing in this book has all the classic pace and depth of feeling that marks many of the best novels I've ever read, and often distinguishes a book as either being worthy of Newbery recognition, or at least right there in the mix as a top contender. Wild Things is such a lovely and emotionally honest story that I could have easily seen it copping a 2010 Newbery, which is high praise indeed in a year that saw Claudette Colvin: Twice Toward Justice by Phillip Hoose, Anything But Typical by Nora Raleigh Baskin, The Magician's Elephant by Kate DiCamillo and Everything for a Dog by Ann M. Martin as just a few of the eligible competitors for the Newbery awards.

The basic premise behind Wild Things (an orphaned girl going off to start fresh by living in a totally new place with a distant relative) is so commonly known and frequently written about in the recent history of literature that it might be easy to expect the book to fall into well-worn patterns of development, but that certainly does not turn out to be the case here. With freshness of thought and plenty of creative vigor, Clay Carmichael unfurls the beautiful story that she has so carefully wrought, imbuing the characters with realistic, vibrant personalities that will likely make a permanent impression on the reader's memory. In fact, it is more than just Zoë, the main girl in the story, and her Uncle Henry, the gruff artist that has agreed to be her legal guardian, who are so memorable in their personality traits. It seems that everyone introduced in the story is painted with carefully detailed, intricate brushstrokes, not a single character coming across as one-dimensional or unbelievable. That richness of characterization provides such an added fullness to the experience of reading the book.

Zoë, at age eleven, has had mostly tough times in her life up to this point. Her mother had battled with some form of manic depressive mental illness for many years, bouncing back and forth between behavior that was either over the top or down in the dumps, but never adequately caring for Zoë no matter what her mood of the day might have been. Along with the high times came a long string of live-in boyfriends who ranged in attitude from indifferent toward Zoë to downright mean to her, and none of them were ever anything close to filling the role of the father who had run off prior to the day when Zoë was first born into the light of this world.

When her mother dies, it's Zoë's Uncle Henry who steps in and offers to care of his niece. It's easy to understand why a girl in Zoë's situation would be wary of trusting yet another grownup who's supposed to be someone on whom she can depend, and their method of relating to each other doesn't develop quickly, or without definite hitches along the way. But as Zoë becomes more familiar with her Uncle, as well as their extraordinary neighbors and all the unique townsfolk who have been filling her new life with a kind of vital energy and color that she never previously knew, we begin to see genuine hope take root inside of Zoë for the first time in her life. Hope, in its truest form, is always a wonderful thing to watch grow inside of a human being, but never is that hope as pure or as valuable as when it is growing inside of a young kid. At its core, Wild Things is that kind of a story about watching hope first take root and start to grow into something special, complete with snags and the sort of inevitable bumps along the way that no life is free of entirely. Zoë may not have left the days of sadness behind her completely, but the worst that she will have to endure has already come and gone. She has a family that really cares about her now, and that's enough of a ballast to help one steer through some pretty bad storms.

You can bet that whenever Clay Carmichael releases her next full-length novel, I'll be eagerly waiting to read it. I love her writing style, how it so effectively joins in theme and voice with the best books of great authors such as Katherine Paterson, Cynthia Rylant and Sharon Creech, while still remaining every bit as fresh as the premiere of a terrific new talent ought to be, opening up our minds to the expression of new thoughts and ideas while at the same time faithfully returning to the solid base of our commonly shared emotion that all of the greatest books have in common. I highly recommend Wild Things, and I would definitely consider giving it three and a half stars.