A Monster Calls: An Unflinching Portrait of Grief
It almost never happens, but I have to admit that I cried at the end of this book. Reading A Monster Calls, I found myself clutching my cat and simply bawling.
Animated GIF showing a cat crying intensely, symbolizing the profound emotional impact of the book A Monster Calls.
However, the tears weren’t just for the book in general, but for what it did to me. Patrick Ness’s novel, based on an idea by Siobhan Dowd, has an uncanny ability to drag out your deepest sorrows and pains, forcing you to confront them head-on, no matter how much you resist. It reaches into the core of your being, making A Monster Calls a truly resonant piece of literature. The experience of reading this book was profoundly affecting on multiple levels; it was simply astounding.
The Unflinching Mirror: Confronting Personal Grief
My own experience deeply intertwined with the narrative. My father died suddenly from heart failure three years ago, when I was fifteen. His passing happened within a span of thirty minutes. Beneath the sadness, a potent anger simmered. I never had the chance to see him alive that Tuesday, never got the opportunity for my own ‘monster’ to appear, metaphorically holding me up as I faced the unbearable truth. I needed that strength to utter words I never thought I’d have the bravery to say.
The little details you believe are indelible can fade. Recently, I realized I can no longer recall the sound of my dad’s voice. Every look in the mirror reflects him back at me – a blessing and a curse. For three long years, I lied to myself, repeating platitudes like “it was his time” or “there was nothing I could do.” These were the things people expect, the reassurances they want to hear after a loss. But A Monster Calls helped me, like its protagonist Conor, realize the raw truth: I didn’t want him to go. He was my dad – the man who woke up early every morning just to tell me he loved me. He was my confidante, my Tuesday night ice cream sandwich partner, my fellow Trekkie, my best friend.
This book taught me that it’s okay to feel that selfish desire to hold onto those you love. Acknowledging that need is a necessary step before truly letting go. The change isn’t instantaneous, but this powerful novel showed me the validity of those feelings. This capacity to fundamentally affect a reader is the hallmark of great literature, and A Monster Calls achieved that profoundly for me.
A Shared Isolation: The Weight of Knowing
I also connected deeply with Conor’s feelings of isolation, of being ignored yet simultaneously treated with a suffocating ‘specialness’ due to his circumstances. The constant stares were almost unbearable because they were a daily reminder of the loss. You instinctively shrink inward to avoid the attention. At that time, invisibility feels preferable to the pitying looks and hushed concerns of classmates. Whether the loss is imminent or has already occurred, a part of you refuses to fully believe it. You cling to a sliver of hope that they’re just away, that they’ll walk through the door any minute, wrap you in a hug, and talk about their trip. Those stares chip away at that fragile hope, leading Conor, and people like me, to shut down. But as we both learned, that isolation becomes its own painful burden.
The Permission to Grieve: Breaking Down Walls
I tend towards introversion when dealing with emotional pain. When my dad died, however, I broke. I cried uncontrollably for an hour straight. Even when the tears stopped, my body continued to shake uncontrollably. I remember that entire night through the filter of those tremors – my little sister screaming, my mom’s garbled voice on the phone asking if I wanted to see Dad one last time before the funeral. I couldn’t. I couldn’t accept his absence. The shaking only ceased hours later when I finally fell asleep on his side of the bed.
I cried hard only once more after that, the day before the funeral. Since then, I’ve felt guilty about that display of weakness, feeling I needed to be strong for my mother and sisters. For a whole year, I tried to fill the void he left – cooking, cleaning, mowing the lawn, doing everything possible to ease their burden while suppressing my own grief until late at night, crying silently into my pillow. Through Conor, Ness showed me it’s okay to cry openly, to allow others to offer support. A Monster Calls allowed me to release some of the pressure and pain pent up for three long, yet simultaneously short, years. For that release, I am incredibly grateful to Patrick Ness and Siobhan Dowd.
The Monster’s Stories: More Than Just Tales
I loved the stories the monster told. Even up to the third and final tale, the endings and their meanings remain unpredictable. They aren’t random anecdotes; they are intrinsically woven into the fabric of the plot. These stories drive the narrative forward, giving Conor depth beyond simply being a boy grieving his dying mother. They illuminate his motivations and struggles, providing nuances often missing in contemporary characters. Without these tales, connecting with Conor’s complex emotions of loss and pain would have been far more difficult, diminishing the book’s impact.
The Yew Tree Monster: A Character of Profound Depth
The monster itself is an absolutely brilliant character. Its cryptic pronouncements, compelling stories, ability to discern truth, and unwavering presence for Conor truly elevate it. Initially, when it proclaimed its many names and ancient power, I braced myself for another archetypal, self-important deity. However, Ness’s monster transcends cliché. It embodies its power with gravitas and grace. The yew tree monster is unforgettable. Perhaps someday, prepared or not, my own ‘monster’ will come walking. I sincerely hope for that day.
The writing style is perfectly pitched – a blend of lyrical prose, an authentic teenage voice, and mature themes that resonate with readers aged 13 and up. It’s a story that can entertain and affect readers for a lifetime in the most meaningful way. Essentially, I loved everything about this book.
A strange coincidence occurred shortly after I finished reading, still lost in contemplation and tears. My mom approached, unaware of the book’s subject matter, and shared some shocking news. Our close neighbor’s daughter, a mother of two, had been diagnosed with severe uterine cancer with a poor prognosis. The timing felt significant, underscoring the book’s themes. It was a stark reminder that life is unpredictable, and the process of letting go can begin at any moment. It highlighted the sometimes harsh and sorrowful realities of life. If this reflection prompts anything, let it be this: cherish every moment, make each one precious.
Conclusion
Ultimately, A Monster Calls is a book I recommend wholeheartedly to everyone. It is touching, poignant, and utterly amazing. It masterfully explores the complexities of grief, truth, and acceptance through a unique and powerful narrative lens. The emotional depth, carried by the unforgettable monster and the relatable struggles of Conor, makes this a truly essential read. Don’t miss the opportunity to experience this exceptional novel.
