Adam Gowers has problems. He is desperately in love with a girl who doesn’t fancy him in the slightest; he’s gone and got himself booked in for a fight with the hardest kid in the school; he’s worried about failing all his GCSEs; his parents can barely stand the sight of each other. And then one day he is granted an infinite number of wishes by a genie who conveniently pops out of a lamp. Infinite! An infinite number of wishes! Effectively he has become a god. Except that he doesn’t really have the skill-set to go with the god-like powers…
The Infinite Powers of Adam Gowers is as funny as The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole; as full of ideas as The Hitch-Hikers Guide to the Galaxy; and as sweet and easy to read as Nick Hornby’s Slam.
These days, all YA novels are ‘edgy’. Either they’re bleak slabs of social realism or dystopian visions of the future. The Infinite Powers of Adam Gowers is that rare thing: a teenage novel that makes you laugh rather than wince.
The lamp seemed to sort of twitch in my hands, like it was alive, or like there was something alive inside it. Then a wisp of smoke curled out of the spout, and then the wisp grew into a great big massive column of black smoke. Then the column kind of formed and solidified into the shape of a great big massive enormous genie.
At this point, you must be thinking, Yeah, right. And I don't blame you. Cause that's what I thought, too. A genie. Yeah, right. I mean, reality check, or what? I've never believed in crap like that. There's kids at my school who'll swallow anything - like they believe in ghosts and horoscopes and UFOs and alien abductions and men in black and the Illuminati and God knows what else, anything as long as it's weird. But I've never been like that. I just believe in stuff you can prove, stuff you can see. But the trouble was, I could see this genie. I didn't wanna believe it, but I couldn't deny it - he was there, hanging in the air in front of me, with his feet a couple of inches off the floor and his turban brushing the ceiling, lit up in the torch beam from my phone. He was wearing baggy trousers of purple silk and those kinda Turkish shoes that curl up at the ends. His moustache curled up at the ends, too. His chest was bare and brown with an impressive set of pecs. Like, he was built. Ripped. You wouldn't wanna get in a fight with him. Steve Renwick wouldn't have stood a chance. No one would. You wouldn't bet on the Incredible Hulk with Iron Man and the Mighty Thor backing him up against this guy.
So, the genie was like, 'I am the genie of the lamp!'
I was like, 'Right.' Then I go, 'You speak very good English.' This was a moronic thing to say, I know, but I was pretty much in a state of severe shock.
'I speak all languages. You have released me from the lamp. What is your wish?'
'Er - wish? Wodjer mean, wish?'
'Your wish is my command.'
All supporters get their name printed in every edition of the book. All levels include immediate access to the author's shed.