Review ‘A Monster Calls’ by Patrick Ness

Call me timid (Neil Gaiman books scare me) but this is a ferociously upsetting fantasy story of an ancient Yew tree and an adolescent boy awash with fear, sadness, anger, and the unforgiveable nature of death.

Conor O’Malley’s mother is dying in hospital. Conor and his father and grandmother are not handling it well. One night Conor gets up and goes over to his bedroom window and looks out. A monstrous untameable Yew tree stands near his house, looking right back at him. It proceeds to raise a gnarled woody fist to punch through the wall of his bedroom. The monster says “I will tell you Three Stories. Three tales from when I walked before.” But Conor sends the monster away and it’s gone for the time being.

Of course it returns, laced with dark fantasy and symbolism, and eventually the Fourth Tale comes from twelve year old Conor himself. What does Conor and the reader learn from this? Many things. Note, I personally would not recommend either the book or movie for children of a young age, it could raise more fears than it can soothe. You may love it!

*Tree waiting waiting… © Gretchen Bernet-Ward 2024*

So that’s my short synopsis of a tense, wrenchingly sad story written by Patrick Ness about imagination and the monstrous fears within us. It contains school-yard violence, sweet Lily, ancient tree wisdom and modern day parenting which leaves Conor awash with misery, confusion and a bad temper for everyone apart from his sick mother.

This story could be shelved in the Fantasy/Horror section of a library except for its very serious topic and acutely observed symptoms of grief; a complicated boy lashing out at everyone, unable to alleviate his mother’s suffering nor deal with her impending death. Time grinds on regardless, Conor’s bossy grandmother arrives and nothing is as it seems. Allegory, clock metaphor, various telling moments.

As mentioned, I personally think this story is best read by an adult to younger children so questions can be answered. A guide book of sorts, reality is hard to understand, dying even harder to accept, but eventually it’s a bitter fact of life we all have to face. It’s up to the individual reader to find their own way through the story; ending with comfort, confusion or clarity?

💗 Gretchen Bernet-Ward 2024

*Undefeated Warrior Queen © image Gretchen Bernet-Ward 2023*
https://thoughtsbecomewords.com/2023/07/09/hope-of-the-tree-queen-warrior-soliloquy/

‘Door Knocking’ Short Story

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Door Knocking

It’s a bright, breezy Saturday morning and I’m doing light housework when I hear a knock on the front door. On the weekend nobody knocks at the front door at this time of day. Nobody except salespeople touting a product, charity or religion. I go to the window and look down at the doorstep, which doesn’t have a porch covering, and I see two people. A fair-haired woman who is thumbing through an iPad and a man in a jaunty hat. The window is open so I lean out, say a loud hello and they look up. Predictably, they respond with surprise, the man uttering the usual “A voice from above” and I give a weak smile. The woman swallows and clears her throat. She launches straight into her patter which goes something like this “We are currently in your neighbourhood discussing death and dying and what this means to families, your family…etc, death cropping up several times…and what are your thoughts on this subject?” My first reaction is annoyance, she hasn’t said who she represents. The invisible signs are as obvious as the outward message. My second reaction is one of astonishment. Do they really expect me to talk over such a matter with them, total strangers, door-knocking my street, making dogs bark, trying to look deep and meaningful on a topic which is universally devastating no matter what the circumstances? My third and final reaction is to look her in the eyes and say “I’m sorry, I do not wish to participate.” She smiles, he smiles, I offer them a polite good-bye and they wish me a happy weekend. As I’m drawing back, I catch a momentary look of relief on the woman’s face. ♥ Gretchen Bernet-Ward

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