Thursday 1:17 p.m.

An expanded version of this originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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Duck's head is nowhere near where it should be as he walks the busy streets of D. C. and he steps out in front of a car that doesn't hit him. Not because of lightning-fast reflexes of the driver, nor because of fantastic brakes, or because some hero pulled/pushed/tackled him out of the way. Nope, none of those – but because faster than you can say “Rod Serling,” time stopped.

Now our 17-year-old protagonist has to figure out: what happened (if he can); how to survive in this Frozen World (if he can); and most importantly – how can he get things moving again (if he can).

Simple enough premise, right? Yup. One that seems like you've probably read/seen it a few times (seems that way, but I can't remember once) – but Landweber executes it like he's the first. It feels fresh, new and innovative – while being an old stand-by, figure out how he pulled that off and I'll probably end up talking about your book, too.

There are very strict rules governing this reality and Duck figures them out pretty fast (at least fast enough to survive awhile).

Now seems like a good place to explain what people feel like in the frozen world. Skin feels like skin, hair like hair, lips like lips. It's one of those things that is almost normal. When no one moves, you expect them to feel like molded plastic, like mannequins, limbs swiveling on set pivots without much range. A secondary possibility was that everyone would feel rubbery, like the well-preserved fetal pig [Duck's friend] Grace dissected for me. Wrong on both counts.

The inert water hung down from the showerhead like strands of silk caressing his body. I touched one and it came away from its cohorts, wet and liquid on my fingertips.

there is no good or evil without time. Empirically, he argued, man's actions in themselves are not right or wrong. It is only the interaction of those deeds with the passage of time and the judgments of others that leads to morality. If you were to freeze time at the instant of the act, and never allow for there to be recriminations or regret or accusations or revenge, then the act itself becomes a meaningless one. No matter what that act is. Merely a moment detached from all other moments. A moment without consequence.

Disclaimer: I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for an honest review.