Reviews with content warning for Cannibalism - Monstrilio

One of the more fascinating recently released novels I’ve read. It missed a great opportunity to delve deeper into disability and its implications regarding concepts of “monstrosity” and acceptance into the fold of dignified life, however; there’s a gaping hole in this regard which, had it been filled, could have made this novel perfect to me.

It is uneven in its presentation besides; after Magos’s point of view, which begins the novel, we go into Lena, who, while compelling, is not nearly as striking as Magos, who oscillates between aloofness, cruelty, wrought passion… a real spectrum of what is deemed unsavory in a woman, and a grieving mother, at that. She makes bizarre and incomprehensible statements and decisions, unfortunately given attention less and less as the narrative moves to Joseph and Peter, and finally, M, who then takes after his mother in intrigue.

It wasn’t exactly clear what M was meant to be—a reincarnation of Santiago, a creature with memories imposed on him through the willing of his birth, who knows—but that lack of definition framed the novel’s exploration of parenthood and children’s autonomy. A struggle to be that which his parents, or his “creator”, so desperately wanted him to be, insisting they can “tame” him, “transform” him, even as it causes him despair, confusion, and shame. Parents have all kinds of expectations for their children before they are even born; in one of Joseph’s chapters, he speaks of how he fantasized a future in which Santiago was thirty, happy beyond belief, while fully admitting that he didn’t have any idea what could have made Santiago so happy. Magos even says, “I know what Monstrilio is. I made him,” imposing all of her desires onto him, her desire which gave him form in the first place; thus, does he have any right to his own personhood? The plea of the child then seems paradoxical, perhaps, though all they long for is love and acceptance for what they choose—or sometimes, are forced—to become.

While there is a clear differentiation in voices, and a wide cast of characters, there aren’t many moments when it feels as though they are truly present in the narrative. Funnily enough, it’s like performance art, and the characters are set pieces, maybe speaking to the fable-like nature of the novel. The author’s Mexican background is obvious here, with the astute symbolism of a deteriorating house, nevertheless patched up frantically to give a show of respectability and dignity, keeping up appearances… Magos rebelling against that image of the Good Mexican Mother/Woman, particularly during the mass, was especially appreciated.

There’s a lot of clumsiness, but overall, the narrative absorbed me and ultimately, I enjoyed how bizarre it all was, despite the ending feeling a bit too rushed;

I wish M’s decision to leave the family had been more impactful, given a more mystical or grand veneer to match the strangeness of the novel.

There were a few tender moments that caught me off guard, as well; I didn't expect to appreciate Joseph's character as much as I did, particularly after

the scene when he gently sets the tarantula free instead of killing it, as Peter insists he does.

Content Warnings

holy_moly_colee's review against another edition

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challenging dark emotional tense medium-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Character
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

1.0

Content Warnings

pnwbibliophile's review against another edition

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dark emotional mysterious reflective sad medium-paced

Plot- or character-driven? A mix
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

5.0

What a weird little book! Using elements of Mexican folklore, Monstrilio tells the story of parental grief and the complexities of choosing when to stifle your kids versus letting them be themselves. We follow Magos and Joseph who have lost their 11 year-old son, Santiago, because of Santiago’s congenital lung condition. In her grief, Magos pulls from a Mexican folklore story, convinced by the tale she can grow a new son by taking out a piece of Santiago’s lung postmortem and feeding it in a jar. The lung does grow into something—a furry ball with an “arm tail” that Magos soon finds has animalistic instincts for blood and the cats and birds of her neighborhood. She names the creature Monstrilio and first tries to hide the creature from her friends and family. The creature is discovered after it atacks one of them. I’m going to refer to all the adults in Monstrilio’s life as “the family” for simplicity’s sake.

The family—Magos, Joseph, Magos’ mother, the mother’s caretaker, and Magos’ friend— all are navigating how their grief ties into their relationships with one another while making sure Monstrilio doesn’t hurt anyone else and still showing him a humane level of love that at times feels very tender as if Monstrilio were somewhere between human and loved but unruly pet. Magos, firm in her belief Monstrilio will grow into Santiago, treats him as such and is his biggest “protector” while the others feelings towards Monstrilio grow and evolve throughout the novel. They all try to stifle Monstrilio’s cravings for blood to make him behave more human. About halfway through,

the adults decide Monstrilio is trying to grow into a human, but his “arm tail” is holding him back so Magos’ doctor friend amputates it. This leads us to the last section of the novel where Monstrilio becomes exactly like Santiago, possessing his memories and appearance, but still having a disquieting appetite for human blood and a mouth which can unhinge (though he can hide the mouth). The adults pivot to calling him “M” now that he’s “human.” During this time, we see Monstrilio navigating both his desire for other men and his kink(?) to bite the men he sleeps with. His desire to bite grows into a desire for blood and human flesh and pulls the family into the drama of trying to hide the aftermath.

At it’s core this novel is about grief, but the metaphor and symbolism then can be interpreted in various ways such that readers will likely think the book represents different things.

I’m going to expound a lot about my own life next, not because I think my life is important or interesting, but more to get the point across about why I connected so much with this book. I wouldn’t say I love it because it’s horror and not supposed to elicit that emotion, but it certainly got me thinking outside the pages. The author deserves kuddos for that alone. As a neurodivergent gay child of divorce who lost my brother at age 12 and saw that singular event ripple through my family, this felt hauntingly written for me. Because I have a lot of trauma surrounding my own sexuality and my brother’s death, I have perhaps too emotionally complex feelings about the time where I was 12-21. During this time, I was processing my own grief sans therapist, watching the same grief manifest itself in my family members in ways I struggled to process, and simultaneously feeling terrified I would be outed and lose all of my family and friends. It was this odd double-estrangement from my family—one part grief, one part identity. I’m still not healed from the scars of those years and never will be. And I had parents who loved me and genuinely did their best, yet not even the most “perfect” parents can shield their child from being scarred by all that.

How does this apply to Monstrilio? It was hard not to see my own story in his own. Part of what made this novel so poignant to me was that the author uses metaphor and symbolism but what is being represented is left wide open to reader interpretation, which makes it feel dynamic, complex, and mysterious. Some authors use these rhetorical devices less subtly such that they lead their readers with obvious clues so what the devices represent is undeniably obvious. This author figuratively said, “Screw that, I’ll give them the scaffolding and let the reader construct the whole damn building.” What you think this story represents can vary from reader to reader and even within your own head over time. That was unique. I am still digesting this novel days later such that my ideas surrounding the novel’s meaning feel like neverending branching, budding fractals. My ideas about the novel’s meaning have only budded more complex ideas, which budded more, on and on.

Here are some of the many questions and considerations I found myself pondering:

-Is Santiago a symbol of a child born out of a sham marriage? Joseph, the father, remarries a man and Magos, the mother, clearly has a bi-curious side at minimum. As their marriage dissolves, are we seeing the symbolic death of this kid’s childhood as the divorce forces him to grow up in ways unfair to the child?

-Is Monstrilio a symbol of what parental grief can do to children not old enough to process their parent’s emotions? We see this in the awkwardness of Monstrilio as he grows and tries to interact—often awkwardly—with the adults navigating their grief.

-Is Monstrilio a symbol for a young person navigating their queerness or kink in a world that looks down on these things?

-This is a little out there, but could his

“arm tail” amputation be looked at in the same way parents put their kids through circumcision or FGM?

-Is Monstrilio just a broader metaphor for raising a kid? Parents have to make such difficult decisions about when to shelter their kids versus when to let them be exposed to the real world to grow, develop, and learn.

-The adults in Monstrilio’s life try to mold and repress his true nature both because they are afraid of him and because they want to protect him and that felt so authentic to the way many parents deal with neurodivergence, sexuality, and gender expression. Yet the conflicted nature of these adults as they struggle with letting Monstrilio be who he is versus needing to suppress his nature to protect him and others also felt very tender and authentic. Each character’s motivations are portrayed well.

-Is Monstrilio a metaphor for a child forgotten after their sibling dies where the parents succumb to grief and forget to raise the remaining child?

-This one is a stretch, but could Monstrilio be a metaphor for a child and parents navigating the child’s sexual abuse by an outside person we never meet in the book?

-Is Monstrilio not even a real, corporeal being but just represents the life Santiago’s parents imagine for their dead son in their grief and the “monster” bits are the bittersweet nature of imagining one’s dead loved ones “could be” life. Even when you imagine their life being so idyllic, it’s tainted by the fact that they’re gone.

-Queer people often first grapple with their sexuality at puberty’s onset in ways that make it feel like your own inner child is killed off as you try to understand very adult topics. Santiago’s death at age 11 could symbolize this.

-Does Monstrilio represent the idea that “hurt people hurt people” and the cycle of abusive parents raising kids that grow to abuse others?

-Could Monstrilio represent a child the parents never wanted but try their best to raise. Yet that lack of true love for the child ends up causing the child to grow up scarred as they grow up and piece together the signs their parents never wanted them.

-Does Monstrilio just represent grief? You could see this in how all the adults navigating Santiago’s death try to support one another and Monstrilio, but no matter how genuine and deep their love is, it can never undo the scars grief left behind.

-Could Monstrilio represent the idea of parents unprepared for a child’s disability?
-Does Monstrilio represent how we all at times dehumanize those around us by focusing on their “otherness” not out of empathy or celebrating their attributes but as a means of separating ourselves from them.

Those are all questions I pondered and that’s what I loved about the open-ended metaphor and symbolism in the novel. For a shorter novel, it really got my mind whirring. It’s easily to see how anyone can see some of their own complex feeling about their own parents in the novel. At it’s heart, that is what makes this novel truly unique.

Other aspects I loved:

-Use of setting to complement plot. What happened

in Berlin felt even scarier to me because I knew the participants were all visitors or on visa, which heightened the stakes of getting caught.

-Mexican folklore was incorporated well with metaphor and symbolism and the literary style of writing.

-Each character perspective felt fleshed-out and served a separate purpose in the wider story. I often don’t love multi-POV novels but this one worked for me.

-How tender and complex the love was between those in the family. Even if the language itself didn’t dive directly into this or linger in the moments it was highlighted, I still felt all these characters cared deeply for each other even when they were in conflict with one another. Capturing that family dynamic well in writing can be tricky, but the author pulls it off.

This book won’t be for everyone because it incorporates horror and doesn’t have a neat, happy ending, but it worked for me. It’s one of those books that I’m not going to say I “loved” because your not supposed to love grief. But it was certainly unique and got me thinking far more than most novels. It elicited a lot of complex emotions in me. I also felt “seen” by this novel, which is why it warranted 5 stars. What does it say about me that I felt so seen by a novel about a monster? 👹😅😆

Content Warnings

spacebras's review against another edition

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dark emotional mysterious sad slow-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Character
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? No
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

3.0

Well written and has a strong message :) but for me it's fine and not earth shattering. It's not so much <i>horror</i> horror as it is magical realism. It turns from slight horror to domestic fiction pretty quickly and the pace drops from there. And I think that misunderstanding soured the story for me because it was not what I was expecting, but unfortunately it wasn't able to recapture my attention.

I'm not rating it lower because of what I wished it was, but how to never really got to me in the end. Maybe it was the tone? I'm not sure. I can understand why people are into it. But I wouldn't call it "genuinely scary" like the blurbs tot. Outside of the first few scenes it's really not. And it doesn't have to be- it's just promoted as such

Content Warnings