A Monster Calls

Crafted out of an idea young adult author Siobhan Dowd was not able to bring to fruition before her death, A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness introduces us to numerous monsters as well as to Conor, the boy they both plague and may ultimately save. One of the beasts Conor faces is amorphous and duplicitous. It is his mothers cancer and it has turned Conor’s life into a shell of what it once was making him the target of both bullying and pitied ostracism at school as well as an adult in responsibility while still a child mentally. Yet it is also the cancer that brings the other monster calling. The literal monster.

Part Conor’s nightmare, part terror of the natural world given face and form, the monster is an ancient, craggy Yew tree from the cemetery next door come to life.  Awesome in size, anger, and power, this beast strangely arrives promising to help Conor. This help comes in the form of three stories that the monster will tell Conor one by one as he becomes ready for them.  In return though, Conor must tell this monster the truth. A truth that may be his undoing.  

A Monster Calls is a supernatural thriller, folktale, and despairingly realistic tragedy woven together. Although this combination sounds both ominous and out-there, it is precisely the marvelous pairing of these disparate elements that counters the difficult and depressing realism that a losing battle with cancer presents. It is also this unique combination that allows Ness to portray the emotional, mental, and physical complexities that a 13 year old in such a difficult situation must face. 

Told with a proliferation of staccato sentences and paired nearly page by page with deeply malefic and almost abstract black and white illustrations by Jim Kay, A Monster Calls importantly though, does not provide easy answers. Instead, Ness asks Conor and the reader to interpret truth, to pick from the better of multiple evils, and to realize that life is not simple. It is this crucial lesson that in the end not only helps Conor but will leave all readers and especially teens with a broader, more realistic look at the hard decisions and situations that life sometimes places before us.

The Dark

We all have unique fears. After not one, not two, but three separate incidents in which I cracked pistachio shells and then threw large bugs rather than nuts in my mouth, I now have a lingering fear of pistachios in the shell. This doesn't stop me from eating the tasty buggers mind you, but now I crack, cautiously examine, then gobble. Despite this and a handful of other quirky phobias, the fears that occupy the more prominent spots in my consciousness are those that I share with so many others. Indeed, it almost seems as if some fears are universal. And the dark is one of them.

Thus it was part morbid curiosity and part excitement that lead me to Lemony Snicket and Jon Klassen's picture book The Dark. The excitement stemmed from the fact that two great talents had come together to craft one book. The morbid curiosity, well, that came from my fear of the dark, a fear shared not just with many of you, but also with our main character, Laszlo.

Seen throughout the tale in a simple pair of blue footy pajamas, the somewhat austere Laszlo lives in a big house with "a creaky roof, smooth, cold windows, and several sets of stairs." Yet, he doesn't live there alone. Perfectly personified, Snicket has given portions of Laszlo's house over to the living, breathing, and talking dark. Sometimes the dark hangs out in the closet, sometimes behind the shower curtain, but mostly, it is found in the basement in a "distant corner...pressed up against some old, damp boxes, and a chest of drawers that nobody ever opened." That is until half way through the tale when the dark visits Laszlo in his room and calls him to the basement.

I won't give away the ending but I also won't leave you... in the dark. Instead, I will simply state that despite some wonderfully built tension and anxiety, Laszlo manages to conquer his fear in a manner that will help any young reader feel a bit more snug not just in the dark but also in a creaky house or strange closet.

This ending is a fitting culmination of the just-right, simple, and satisfying narration. However, it is not just the perfectly paced tale that makes this book a great read but rather, it is the pairing of this story with Klassen's clean illustrations that elevate it to a worthwhile read for those old as well as young. Klassen's spreads contrast abundant dark space with a minimal color pallete and simple lines that truly make the dark come alive and grow and in the end, recede. Together, this artwork and Snicket's story meld into a beautiful book that deserves a prominent and bright spot on any shelf.