Last year, my critique group read the book A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness. This novel, which I had thought was middle grade when we started it, quickly proved a more mature read.
It quickly proved that it was mature enough to make even this grown adult cry.
Of course, I was reading from a different angle than most children would. As a mom, the plight of the mother in the book touched me most profoundly. I found that I really felt a severe link to this book in the relationship between a child and parent, and how much it hurts when it we must say goodbye. I researched Siobhan Dowd’s story, and found that Ness had taken her beautiful concept to fruition when she couldn’t. As a writer, this touched me as well.
Of course, like most stories, I’m always glad to read the book first. It’s not that I don’t love movies made from books. I adored the movie Wonder. I didn’t love it as much as the book, but I understand the differences between page and screen. I’m happy for those differences, because usually, it just means books are so valuable and will always be so.
Tonight, when I get home from kid activities, I’m excited to sit and watch A Monster Calls. No matter the reviews or accuracy, I know this story has energy, love, and faith behind it, and that is something I can always get behind.