When I first heard that F. Paul Wilson was going to write three YA novels about Repairman Jack, his popular fixer of the unusual, my initial reaction was a cross between “Huh?” And “What the—?”

If Paul was up for sharing Jack’s back story, I knew that I’d show up to read about it, for I’ve long enjoyed the character, but I always figured that when the time came, he’d interpolate that information into one of his novels for grownups, and let us look back at the early days from the perspective of adulthood. It didn’t seem to me that just because a book was going to be about Jack as a kid that it should necessarily be marketed as a book for kids, in a YA format. After all, if the age of a protagonist determined a book’s format and marketing, would that mean that a book about Jack as an old man (though he’s unlikely to survive that long) should be written for and targeted at the elderly, and only be made available in large-print editions?

So as you can see, I was wary. I knew that once this YA incarnation was published, I would read it, but I assumed I’d be … let’s just say … confused by it. I’d grown used to the tone used in the dozen or so Repairman Jack novels I’d already read. I was unsure how I’d feel about that voice being, for lack of a better word, simplified.

I’d like to point out that my difficulty with this conceit has nothing to do with any prejudice against YAs in general. There was a period in my late twenties when it seemed as if all I was read were juveniles, because writers such as Paul Zindel and Robert Cormier and Judy Blume were speaking more honestly about life than most adult novelists. So I have no problem with YAs per se. I guess I was just reluctant in principle to seeing a familiar character cross over in that way, in effect, switching genres.

Then Jack: Secret Histories arrived. I looked at the cover, read the jacket copy, and scanned the first paragraph.

After that, I did not put the book in my To-Be-Read-Someday pile on the bookcase. I did not put it next to my bed in the To-Be-Read-Real-Soon pile. And I didn’t even put it in the bathroom in the To-Be-Read-In-A-Day-Or-Two pile. In fact, it did not go in any pile. I just continued reading it. And I didn’t stop until I was done.

So all I can say is, though I was unsettled by the idea of the book as a concept, I was fully satisfied by its reality. There turned out to be nothing wrong with seeing the events of Repairman Jack’s childhood through the eyes of a child, as opposed to having them remembered from an adult perspective. Jack: Secret Histories was as riveting and addictive as any of Paul’s adult novels.

Which is all a rather long-winded way of saying—if, like me, you were put off by the idea of YA Repairman Jack adventures, don’t be. If the book had been packaged just like any other F. Paul Wilson novel, I don’t think any of us would have noticed. And it may end up pulling in more readers for the rest of his oeuvre as well.

Which I hope isn’t taken as a backhanded compliment, because it isn’t meant to be. It’s meant to be a sincere compliment.