It would have been a great story if I didn't read any review first. The title 'Surrender' would have meant more than just a symbol of what inside. The dog was the key to open the mystery but not because of its personality but because of its existence.

Some dialogs were composed just the right way to elude guesses but in some scenes you could feel the awkwardness. Well, it's better to find it out yourself.

On his deathbed, gasping for breath and clinging to life, Gabriel remembers his past. He recalls his childhood, when he was called Anwell. At the age of seven, entrusted with the care of his older, developmentally disabled brother while his mother rested and his father escaped, Anwell accidentally killed the older boy, an event that caused his family simultaneous trauma, embarrassment and relief.

Two years later, Anwell, isolated from his peers by his overly protective parents, encounters a very different boy, named Finnigan. The two make a pact: from now on, Finnigan will do all the bad things Anwell wants to do but can't, while Anwell does only good things. The friendless boy, desperate for company, agrees to be a reflection of his newfound blood brother, a sort of angel who can earn his repentance by attaining perfection. To mark his new status, the boy renames himself after the only angel he knows: Gabriel.

As Gabriel grows older, a series of arsons terrorize his small town. Gabriel knows who's committing the crimes and finds himself torn between the constable and his own father, who wants to form a kind of vigilante team to thwart the perpetrator. Gabriel also acquires a dog named Surrender, who soon leaves to roam the hills and forests with Finnigan, who is as restless and rangy as the dog itself.

When Gabriel develops a fixation on a female classmate, the events of his childhood and the effects of his pact with Finnigan come to a head. As the truth of Gabriel's condition is slowly revealed, readers will begin to question how much of the story --- even the horrifically violent climax --- is real, and how much of it is contained only within the mind of a disturbed young man.

Sophisticated plotting, mature vocabulary and violent themes make SURRENDER a novel suitable for older teens with the maturity to handle the book's subtle nuances and sinister themes. Sonya Hartnett doesn't write down to her audience; instead, she crafts an understated plot that grows ever more disturbing as the truth is revealed. However, readers who are ready to tackle challenging, thought-provoking fiction will relish the novel's depth and darkness.

--- Reviewed by Norah Piehl

I'm sorry to say I felt this book didn't live up to its hype. Although the concept was interesting and the writing was at times inspired and evocative, it left me flat. I felt like I'd heard it all before and I found the outcome predictable. I am an extremely well-read lover of contemporary fiction, and perhaps my expectations were just too high. Having said this - I am sure young adults (for whom the book is actually written) would be far more entranced.

Surrender is a beautifully written book but it also has a great narrative momentum in addition to it's literary merits. I have no idea why the book is marketed for teenagers as I think people of any age would be impressed by it. It is the best novel I have read this year and the best novel I have read, written by an Australian for many years. I look forward to reading Sonya Hartnett's future books.

Gabriel is dying. As life slips away, he looks back over his brief twenty years that have been clouded by frustration and humiliation. A small town and distant parents ensure that he is never allowed to forget the horrific mistake he made as a child. He has only two friends - his dog Surrender, and the unruly wild boy Finnigan, with whom he made a boyhood pact. When a series of arson attacks grips the town, Gabriel realises how unpredictable and dangerous Finnigan is. Events begin to spiral out of control, and it becomes clear that only the most extreme measures will rid Gabriel of Finnigan for good ... The most gratifying thing about "Surrender" is that, against all odds, it works. It would have been easy for this novel to succumb to the machinations of its thriller plot (a wonderful yarn borrowing from both the Faust and "wheatbelt gothic" traditions), or to the complexities of the episodic, double-voiced structure necessarily required if it's to do the things the author wants it to do. Add to that Hartnett's penchant for a prose that regularly borders on poetry and, in lesser hands, it could have been disastrous. As it turns out, "Surrender" is probably the best novel you'll read all year. What saves it is not only Hartnett's skill and experience, evident on every page, but the fact that the entire thing is shot through with such intense compassion. Damaged children are her stock in trade, and she never fails to make you feel for them, understand them, love them - even when they're involved in things we might otherwise deem unspeakable. Like her last, prize-winning effort for adults, "Of A Boy", this is one of those extremely rare novels possessed of all the essential qualities of great fiction: brilliant language, engaging characters, the urgency of an airport page-turner, and something important to say. It's one of those books that makes you sit back and wonder what the hell it is that other writers think they're doing with their time - and yours.