My rating: 4 of 5 stars
So I’m on vacation and I had a horrible nightmare. You don’t need to hear about that but suffice it to say that it convinced me to finish all the books I’ve been avoiding for a looooooooong time.
This one was on top of the list.
Rather asinine, me reasoning. See, me being an idiot and all the wrong kinds of miserly and inattentive bought ordered the least costly of all editions of A Monster Calls. And whaddaya know, it didn’t have any illustrations!
But that’s what everyone’s read and been talking about, and so I wallowed in the agony of my stupidity before my brain bloacked it all out.
And that’s the story.
If this book were not a book, it would be a big, walloping stick. A stick prancing about and defending us from other sticks trying to stick up our asses.
Because aren’t sticks the most metaphorical thing out there? And that’s what this book is- a big, walloping metaphor.
Not that big actually.
Having finished the book in under two hours, I have only one complaint: it’s too short.
It’s a perfect fairtale and a perfect story. Wild and untameable as only stories can be, chasing and bititng and hunting. Taking off in unknown direcctions, making me hope.
There’s a monster and a kid and monster helping kid helping live. So is the monster a metaphor? Who gives a rat’s ass?
[Interruption: Rats actually have asses? I never thought about that!]
It has friendship, bullies, grandmas, mother-dears, loss and love and who gives a flying fuck if it was real?
The monster called the boy for the boy called the monster and beyond that, I shan’t look.
He called, it said, for a monster.
The monster tells stories, the wild creatures that wreak havoc wherever they go. The stories help in destruction, help invisble men become more lonely by being seen, but in exchange, it wanted a story. A story that was truth, the boy’s truth and then came the end.
Here is the end of the tale, the monster said behind him.
And it was effing perfect in every way.
So why deduct half a star? I didn’t cry, like everybody else. I just didn’t, couldn’t bring myself to. I was sad and hopeful, but my tears were all busy fighting and obliterating wach other.
Now to get out of writing anything substantial, I have lots of quotes for those who are idiotic as me.
It was not wrong, the moster said. It was only a thought, one of a million. It was not an action.
This is why I came walking, to tell you this so that you may heal. You must listen.
Because how could a boy beat a monster?[I die everytime I read this. This is too awesome.]
And then one day, the invisible man decided, the monster said, its voice ringing in Connor’s head, I will make them see.
Stories of how I topples enemies,it said. Stories of how I slew dragons.
It is what you want from me.
And I can tell you, before my eyes betray me, I shall find an illsutarted copy of A Monster Calls and READ IT, by hook or by crook. Without wasting a penny.