At its most basic, the novel is about a child facing up to death. And it strikes the very heart of the American struggles with death, despite its being a UK book. There is, of course, the universal human struggle with death, and the novel reflects much of the attitude that goes along with that struggle. I can't pretend to have enough experience to know how all people, or even a significant percentage of the population, deal with death. But as a teacher who works with youth, more specifically youth at the high school age where they are exploring the world around them and its limitations, I do see and have learned to understand a fair amount about how people deal with death.
Few people seem to like to think about death (and I say "seem" because of course no one can know for sure). It's a uncomfortable topic thanks to the natural human fear of the unknown, and even though it can be argued that learning more about the topic can ease fears about it, I have found that teachers are often warned against discussing death overly often in the classroom. Somehow, there is inherent danger in discussing this topic -- as if talking about it will encourage students to think about death, or as if thinking about death is indicative of a more dangerous road. Don't get me wrong -- I know that focusing on death can potentially be a symptom of suicide and must be treated seriously. That doesn't change my belief that there is no harm in discussing the topic. We are told as teachers that if students are thinking too much about death or are writing about death in some form, we should be concerned. I understand the need to protect my students, and I want to help them if they are struggling with suicidal thoughts or tendencies. But despite that, people do need to think about death. Talking about death, in the classroom or otherwise, is not going to start a kid's descent into a suicidal spiral; if anything, it can open up avenues for that student to reach out for help.
We do talk about death in my classroom. My students write bucket lists and read works that deal with death as a theme -- works like Macbeth, some poems of Keats, and more -- and many of these discussions touch on the idea of approaching death as a natural part of human life.
But as an American culture, we do not approach death as a natural part of life, we do not approach death in any kind of accepting way. Instead, death is a topic to be avoided, a concept to be struggled against, a fight against the natural order to life. Bucket lists are a way, for American culture, to power ourselves beyond the idea of death; it's an idea akin to "If I haven't finished this list, I can't die!" This is something I don't find healthy.
I am not immune to this struggle. I don't like thinking about death, nor do I overly do so. I do fear dying, and I fear it especially in the sense that I feel there is so much more I need and want to do before I die. I know it's bound to happen someday, and I guess I'm fine with that, provided that that 'someday' isn't anytime soon. That ultimate unknown is scary, but to me it's a necessary fear.
This is not the attitude of Conor, the main character of A Monster Calls. He suppresses his fears, a method of dealing that I find distinctly American. Of course, Conor is dealing with the potential death of his mother as opposed to his own death, and familial death does not always follow the same patterns of thought -- in my experience, dealing with a family death, impending or passed, is more about denial than fighting, and that is the experience of this character.
The events of the novel itself are incredibly unique. A boy, Conor is struggling with his mom's illness, and during the course of this struggle and its accompanying nightmares, he is visited by a monster. The monster literally calls -- the distinctly British term that implies a polite exchange as opposed to a blustery argument. In calling, the monster (a transformed yew tree) tells Conor three stories about previous times he (the monster) has come walking, walking to avenge some disrespect or distortion or prevent some destruction. In exchange for the stories, the monster asks Conor for his story -- the truth about his nightmares. The evolution of the narrative , the growth of the main character, the beauty of the pages, combine to create a story of unimaginable power.
One quote continuously popped into my head as I was reading this novel:
"When something can be read without effort, great effort has gone into its writing." - Enrique Jardiel Poncela
I don't believe I've ever encountered a book where this quote was more true. The themes of the novel might be higher level, but the reading is effortless -- the effort put into this writing is truly incredible. The delicate black and white drawings contribute to the darker ideas in the novel, bringing the fantasy world of the monster to life as they pull the reader in.
I adore this novel.
I also have to say this (since I am a teacher): I've already been a reader with pictures in her head, but this book would be a great resource for helping kids learn to build those pictures and improve their reading levels. Teaching students how to create images in their heads as they read is one of the hardest undertakings in education, one that I am fortunately not usually responsible for (because I teach seniors in high school). But this book can help kids bridge between lower-level reading books and higher reading level books, and I would be inclined to give it to any struggling readers in my classroom.
And then I'd probably read it again just for myself.
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