Scan barcode
A review by stephen_arvidson
A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness
5.0
Inspired by his mentor, the late Siobhan Dowd, author Patrick Ness tenders a soul-touching tale of a young boy coping with his mother’s terminal illness. Set in England, A Monster Calls follows a disquieted 13-year-old named Conor O’Malley in the wake of his mother’s cancer diagnosis. Conor’s anxieties are intensified by school bullies, stilted sympathy from school officials, his absent father, and his tenuous relationship with his grandmother. As the title intimates, a monster does come calling in the middle of night—12:07, to be exact. Not your garden-variety monster, but rather a didactic elemental creature fashioned from the towering yew tree overlooking the hilly cemetery outside his bedroom window. The monster’s ghoulish countenance pales when compared to the story’s true horror: a boy's inevitable realization that he must let go of his mother after her cancer treatments fail her. The sagely monster’s purpose, as the reader soon realizes, is to help Conor come to terms with his grief.
In spite of its slim 200-page count, A Monster Calls is sorrowfully beautiful and profoundly raw; it hits you square in the gut and takes everything out of you. At each turn you feel the same eviscerating grief as Conor, and that’s putting it mildly. On the surface, this psychological fairytale is geared toward middle-grade readers, but the story’s underlying themes—tragedy, love, grief, loneliness, resentment, anger, and release, to name a few—are powerful enough to appeal to audiences of all ages.
Of notable interest are the three stories conveyed by the Yew-tree monster that are brilliantly interwoven with Conor’s turmoil. With each yarn comes unexpected endings and reinterpretations of the central characters and their complex motives. To quote the monster, "How can a queen be both a good witch and a bad witch? How can a prince be a murderer and a saviour? How can an apothecary be evil-tempered but right-thinking? How can a parson be wrong-thinking but good-hearted? How can invisible men make themselves more lonely by being seen?" (p.191). Thought-provoking questions are raised that force Conor to face his deepest fear, to see the ugly truth, to recognize not only the true monster but the sensitive resolution of what it means to be human.
Peppered throughout the book are dreary, black-and-white illustrations from Northhampshire artist Jim Kay who masterfully captures both the monster’s menacing essence and the story’s haunting tone. The scratchy and spattered ink style splendidly complements the heartrending narrative, giving greater impact to Conor’s anguish as he literally confronts his own demons.
Ness superbly blends reality with dark fantasy, rendering a dolorous portrait of loss and the painful path to acceptance. His compassionate handling of weighty themes, coupled with Kay’s surrealist illustrations, lends a timeless quality to A Monster Calls. This woefully haunting story brings to life the grieving process even for those who’ve yet to know the pang of loss.
In spite of its slim 200-page count, A Monster Calls is sorrowfully beautiful and profoundly raw; it hits you square in the gut and takes everything out of you. At each turn you feel the same eviscerating grief as Conor, and that’s putting it mildly. On the surface, this psychological fairytale is geared toward middle-grade readers, but the story’s underlying themes—tragedy, love, grief, loneliness, resentment, anger, and release, to name a few—are powerful enough to appeal to audiences of all ages.
Of notable interest are the three stories conveyed by the Yew-tree monster that are brilliantly interwoven with Conor’s turmoil. With each yarn comes unexpected endings and reinterpretations of the central characters and their complex motives. To quote the monster, "How can a queen be both a good witch and a bad witch? How can a prince be a murderer and a saviour? How can an apothecary be evil-tempered but right-thinking? How can a parson be wrong-thinking but good-hearted? How can invisible men make themselves more lonely by being seen?" (p.191). Thought-provoking questions are raised that force Conor to face his deepest fear, to see the ugly truth, to recognize not only the true monster but the sensitive resolution of what it means to be human.
Peppered throughout the book are dreary, black-and-white illustrations from Northhampshire artist Jim Kay who masterfully captures both the monster’s menacing essence and the story’s haunting tone. The scratchy and spattered ink style splendidly complements the heartrending narrative, giving greater impact to Conor’s anguish as he literally confronts his own demons.
Ness superbly blends reality with dark fantasy, rendering a dolorous portrait of loss and the painful path to acceptance. His compassionate handling of weighty themes, coupled with Kay’s surrealist illustrations, lends a timeless quality to A Monster Calls. This woefully haunting story brings to life the grieving process even for those who’ve yet to know the pang of loss.