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A review by hulttio
Last Night I Sang to the Monster by Benjamin Alire Sáenz
3.0
Yet another book that’s been on my TBR for way too long, since 2012 or so, and I’m finally knocking it off the list! I’ve never read anything by Sáenz before, but I had heard good things and was intrigued by the premise of this book. YA is not usually my thing but I wanted something quick and easy to get through while reading some dense books. Despite being YA, this book deals with a lot of heavy subjects like substance abuse, familial abuse, the aftermath of trauma, and creating a sense of personhood. It was also listed on the page for When Jeff Comes Home by Catherine Atkins, which was my previous read; since I knew this was on my TBR, it felt natural to continue on to reading this book.
The structure and writing style of the book is very poetic; it isn’t a linear narrative, but makes use of flashbacks, monologues to the reader, and the standard first-person POV of Zach, a teenage boy who is spending time in a rehabilitation facility for substance abuse. The conceit of the book is that neither Zach nor we, as readers, know why he is there—what events culminated in his current broken state. Thus, the book takes us on a journey of going along Zach on his path to recovery and to understanding the state of affairs that brought him here. Written in a casual and conversational style, the book was a quick one to get through and I read it in mostly one sitting.
Some of the standard YA tropes annoyed me here. Zach’s voice felt too teenage-like at times, like it was overly forced; some of the ways he said things also felt unrealistic. But maybe that’s just a sign of this book being written in 2009. Somehow, I still don’t remember teens talking like Zach back then…but I digress. His attitude has a razor-sharp edge, which was almost laughable if I didn’t know it was on-the-nose for how you feel at the age of 18. Still, despite this, Zach was a character I could empathize with—his struggles felt real, which is a credit to Sáenz’s writing.
This book also has strong side characters, like Zach’s therapist Adam and his roommate Rafael. It was delightful seeing Zach open up more and more to these characters and see how their relationships and trust developed over the course of the book. Sometimes Zach reacts in frustrating ways, but it only goes to show that the process of recovery is painful and difficult, and no matter the trauma, uncovering those demons will necessarily involve a degree of pain. Of course Zach wants to avoid that pain, and that is understandable. But as a reader, you nevertheless want to root for him overcoming this temporary pain so that he can begin healing from his trauma. Since this is a YA book, it’s more on the optimistic side of things, and the ending was a bit cliched but felt realistic.
Seeing Zach slowly come to understand himself as a person, let alone a person capable of being loved and respected, was quite valuable to read. But I did find that Sáenz’s writing could be rather repetitive. The book is narrated in first-person POV by Zach, but Sáenz has him constantly repeating the same phrases over and over again, and repeating his same stubborn refusal to remember up until the last few chapters of the book. The reveal of what happened to Zach wasn’t particularly difficult to grasp, either. Perhaps these elements would work better for the intended YA audience. But I can only imagine how many times a teenager would even be able to get through reading ‘that tore me up’ or ‘that wigged me out’ before getting annoyed. I can understand that teens might think like this, or deal with trauma in this way, but as a reader, it’s not as engaging to read a book written in this style.
The themes discussed in this book are important, even more so today; addiction and trauma are invisible topics that society loves to pretend to deal with superficially, but in reality, doesn’t want to get their hands dirty to actually understand and deal with them in all of their unpleasantness. Recovering from addiction and trauma is not easy nor painless, but society is not well-equipped to deal with that. In a way, this book was a hopeful read because things were set up nicely for Zach—and all within reason in the narrative—where he was able to spend about two months in an intensive rehab facility and meet people who truly cared for him and his journey. In reality, things might not work out so neatly, but it was nice to read a situation where something like this is possible, and that does give me a little bit of hope. Moving forward, even when the path is unclear and unpaved and littered with painful memories, is hope. Conceiving of ourselves as agents of change is hope. Not limiting ourselves to our trauma and past is hope. This is what this book has emphasized, and these messages are important not just for the YA audience but for anybody. Perhaps this isn’t the most well-written or interesting book, but it is an important one nonetheless.
The structure and writing style of the book is very poetic; it isn’t a linear narrative, but makes use of flashbacks, monologues to the reader, and the standard first-person POV of Zach, a teenage boy who is spending time in a rehabilitation facility for substance abuse. The conceit of the book is that neither Zach nor we, as readers, know why he is there—what events culminated in his current broken state. Thus, the book takes us on a journey of going along Zach on his path to recovery and to understanding the state of affairs that brought him here. Written in a casual and conversational style, the book was a quick one to get through and I read it in mostly one sitting.
Some of the standard YA tropes annoyed me here. Zach’s voice felt too teenage-like at times, like it was overly forced; some of the ways he said things also felt unrealistic. But maybe that’s just a sign of this book being written in 2009. Somehow, I still don’t remember teens talking like Zach back then…but I digress. His attitude has a razor-sharp edge, which was almost laughable if I didn’t know it was on-the-nose for how you feel at the age of 18. Still, despite this, Zach was a character I could empathize with—his struggles felt real, which is a credit to Sáenz’s writing.
This book also has strong side characters, like Zach’s therapist Adam and his roommate Rafael. It was delightful seeing Zach open up more and more to these characters and see how their relationships and trust developed over the course of the book. Sometimes Zach reacts in frustrating ways, but it only goes to show that the process of recovery is painful and difficult, and no matter the trauma, uncovering those demons will necessarily involve a degree of pain. Of course Zach wants to avoid that pain, and that is understandable. But as a reader, you nevertheless want to root for him overcoming this temporary pain so that he can begin healing from his trauma. Since this is a YA book, it’s more on the optimistic side of things, and the ending was a bit cliched but felt realistic.
Seeing Zach slowly come to understand himself as a person, let alone a person capable of being loved and respected, was quite valuable to read. But I did find that Sáenz’s writing could be rather repetitive. The book is narrated in first-person POV by Zach, but Sáenz has him constantly repeating the same phrases over and over again, and repeating his same stubborn refusal to remember up until the last few chapters of the book. The reveal of what happened to Zach wasn’t particularly difficult to grasp, either. Perhaps these elements would work better for the intended YA audience. But I can only imagine how many times a teenager would even be able to get through reading ‘that tore me up’ or ‘that wigged me out’ before getting annoyed. I can understand that teens might think like this, or deal with trauma in this way, but as a reader, it’s not as engaging to read a book written in this style.
The themes discussed in this book are important, even more so today; addiction and trauma are invisible topics that society loves to pretend to deal with superficially, but in reality, doesn’t want to get their hands dirty to actually understand and deal with them in all of their unpleasantness. Recovering from addiction and trauma is not easy nor painless, but society is not well-equipped to deal with that. In a way, this book was a hopeful read because things were set up nicely for Zach—and all within reason in the narrative—where he was able to spend about two months in an intensive rehab facility and meet people who truly cared for him and his journey. In reality, things might not work out so neatly, but it was nice to read a situation where something like this is possible, and that does give me a little bit of hope. Moving forward, even when the path is unclear and unpaved and littered with painful memories, is hope. Conceiving of ourselves as agents of change is hope. Not limiting ourselves to our trauma and past is hope. This is what this book has emphasized, and these messages are important not just for the YA audience but for anybody. Perhaps this isn’t the most well-written or interesting book, but it is an important one nonetheless.