The Secret Adventure Machine (The Big Apple) by Sandra Jackson-Trench - REVIEW

A story could take you anywhere — and in Sandra Jackson-Trench’s The Secret Adventure Machine, “anywhere” means quite literally anywhere. One minute you’re an eight-year-old boy in suburban Birmingham, clutching your new MadTab 2.0 tablet; the next, you’re chasing villains through New York, dodging spies in Beijing, and discovering that imagination might be the most powerful technology of all.

The novel bursts open with energy and mischief. Its young hero, Tyrese, receives what looks like an ordinary gadget but soon learns that his tablet is no mere screen. Inside is a hidden microchip — the key to a fantastical invention known as the Secret Adventure Machine. With the tap of a finger, Tyrese and his older sister Karen are flung into a high-speed adventure that’s part espionage caper, part moral fable, and entirely delightful.

Jackson-Trench has the rare ability to write for children without ever writing down to them. Her language is bright, modern, and effortlessly witty; she knows that the best way to reach a young reader is through rhythm, not lecture. Every page hums with a sense of play. There’s slapstick chaos, snappy dialogue, and a gleeful love of words — but beneath the laughter lies something deeper: a sincere curiosity about how we connect, and what we risk when our lives become too entangled with our machines.

At first glance, The Secret Adventure Machine looks like a straightforward “gadget gone wrong” story. Yet Jackson-Trench does something far more interesting. She takes the familiar trope of technological temptation — the shiny device that promises everything — and turns it into a meditation on creativity, courage, and control. Mr Mad, the gleaming villain of the piece, embodies pure greed: a corporate emperor convinced that ownership is the same as genius. His empire of glass and gold feels eerily close to the world children already know, where technology both empowers and consumes. But Tyrese’s resistance is charmingly human. He triumphs not because he outsmarts the machines, but because he refuses to become one.

The relationship between Tyrese and Karen gives the novel its heartbeat. Their sibling dynamic — part teasing, part fierce loyalty — grounds the fantasy in something recognisably real. Jackson-Trench writes their exchanges with warmth and humour; she understands that in the middle of global conspiracies, children will still argue over snacks, shoes, and who gets to hold the tablet. Karen’s calm practicality offsets Tyrese’s impulsive curiosity, creating a duo whose chemistry drives the story forward.

The author’s world-building is brisk and cinematic. Without lingering on description, she conjures each scene with quick, vivid strokes: the electric chaos of New York streets, the sterile menace of Mad Industries’ laboratories, the quiet wonder of a night flight over the city. It’s not hard to imagine the book adapted for film — the pacing, humour, and visual detail are already there. Her sentences bounce with energy; her dialogue could be lifted straight to a screenplay. But what makes it truly cinematic is not the spectacle — it’s the sense of emotional motion. The story never stops moving, yet every leap feels earned.

Her tonal balance sets Jackson-Trench apart from so many other children’s authors. She can make readers laugh in one paragraph and pause thoughtfully in the next. Beneath the chase scenes and comic blunders lies a vein of philosophical reflection: What does it mean to invent something powerful? Who should decide how it’s used? And what happens when innovation outpaces empathy? These questions never weigh the book down; they shimmer quietly beneath the surface, waiting for curious minds to find them.

The villains, too, deserve applause. Mr Mad and his bumbling entourage are drawn with affectionate exaggeration — a touch of Roald Dahl’s menace mixed with the absurdity of a Bond parody. Yet Jackson-Trench keeps them just credible enough to be unsettling. They are adults who have forgotten how to play, chasing control instead of wonder. Through them, she offers a sly moral: that imagination without kindness turns monstrous.

Structurally, the novel moves with a confidence rare in debut fiction. Each chapter propels the reader forward while planting clues for the next revelation. The humour acts as both glue and release valve — easing the tension while deepening the stakes. And just when you think you’ve reached the happily-ever-after, Jackson-Trench delivers a clever epilogue that widens the lens: somewhere, in a lab glittering with screens, a new device is already humming to life. The adventure, it seems, is far from over.

But the true secret of The Secret Adventure Machine is not its gadgetry — it’s its heart. Tyrese’s journey is not just a chase across continents; it’s a movement from isolation to connection, from curiosity to responsibility. Jackson-Trench understands that for a child, technology is both window and mirror. The SAM may transport Tyrese to other worlds, but what he discovers most powerfully is himself — his loyalty, his conscience, his ability to choose.

As with all good children’s books, the magic works on several levels. Young readers will revel in the action and comedy. Parents and teachers will recognise the quiet wisdom tucked between the jokes. And older readers — those who grew up believing their computers might hold secret portals — will feel the tug of nostalgia mixed with a shiver of recognition. Jackson-Trench invites them to remember what stories once promised: not control, but wonder.

Her writing sparkles with that rarest quality — generosity. She gives her young hero mistakes to make, lessons to learn, and victories to earn. She respects her readers’ intelligence, trusting them to spot the moral without having it spelled out. And she reminds adults that imagination, like technology, needs ethical guidance — not limits, but conscience.

In the end, The Secret Adventure Machine is not just an adventure story. It’s a gentle manifesto for creative courage in a world addicted to convenience. It asks children — and adults — to look up from their screens, to see the extraordinary in the ordinary, and to keep their curiosity alive even when the world tells them to upgrade instead.

Sandra Jackson-Trench may write for the young, but her insight speaks to all ages. She knows that stories are their own secret machines: once opened, they can take us anywhere — across cities, across worlds, across the boundaries of what we think we know.

And this one, gleaming with heart and humour, takes us exactly where we need to go.