Monster

            Monster. It read like 21^st Century pop culture. It was pop culture. It was a combination of screenplay and diary and it was effective in its mission. I was wrapped-up for two days. I could have finished it in a day, but other aspects of my life needed attention too, so I opted for the two-day blitz. Monster was visceral and hit me in the guts. I felt Steve’s fear. But it was also fluffy too. Adolescent courtroom drama—it’s right off the television screenwriter’s desk. And then came the question about whether he was guilty or not…Hmm, good question. To be honest, I hadn’t considered his innocence or guilt. I assumed he was innocent. In some ways, it doesn’t matter whether he was guilty or not; I mean, it was more about his mind and what was going on in his mind—the subsequent “reality” is subjective. Besides, ask any prisoner behind bars, and they’ll tell you they’re innocent. The prisoners in Monster did so. Steve did so. So is it real? To them it was.

            For me, Monster was a glimpse into the cognitive coping mechanism of an adolescent. Here was a kid facing a long prison term (although I found it all a bit contrived—I mean, come on, twenty-five to life for a juvie who played lookout for a robbery gone bad? Nah, I don’t buy it.), and he wrote a screenplay to help sort out his feelings. I found the drama effective, engaging, and like a sound-bite. It was quick. It was meant to tug on my emotions and get my attention. It worked. But like a sound-bite is meant to do, I was left wanting more. I wanted to know why O’Brien rebuked his hug at the end—was it racially motivated? Or was it just because she didn’t like him? Or was it because she did indeed think he was guilty, as Steve suspected? Questions…

            The style of the piece would probably be effective in grabbing and keeping the attention of our “ADHD Generation” (I don’t buy this either, but that’s another essay), but I actually didn’t enjoy it as much later as I did at first. Perhaps it is my bias, but the book felt herky-jerky to me. I missed more standard prose loaded with description and juicy adjectives. While there were images to be imagined, they seemed of secondary importance. The “effect” of the narrative took over. It was like watching TV. However, I can see how the adolescent mind would appreciate the style—it fits with modern media tactics nicely.

            The story itself was engrossing. Steve was a smart and creative kid. Through the handwritten parts, I felt sympathy for his predicament. I empathized with his fear. Myers did a nice job of helping me to care about Steve. The glimpse I got of Steve was an angle, or lense, I had not looked through before. As a reader, I was allowed access to an experience I have not directly experienced before. It was cool. Sure, I have imagined what it would be like to be in prison (don’t ever want to go there, thank you very much), but Myers’s writing sucked me in and actually put me there, if only briefly. I could see, feel, hear, and almost smell his parents’ interactions with him in the lock-up. It was sad. It hurt. I wanted things to work out for them.

            As is common in Adolescent Lit., everything did end up working out. I assumed it would, based on the tempo of the text. To be frank, I did not ever question his innocence. I assumed he was too smart a kid to be an accomplice to robbery. In retrospect, I suppose it is quite possible he was guilty. However, I still don’t think it matters much. Monster was about stepping into the shoes of someone else, hanging out for a bit, and then getting the heck out of Dodge. Even if he was guilty, I don’t think he should have been put away for 25 to life. I guess that would have really torqued-me-off. I’m glad Myers didn’t pull that trick.

            As a rule, I’ve lost my taste for courtroom dramas. They’ve been overdone in the last couple of decades, I think. Every other TV show is some kind of courtroom drama. Movies are littered with the same. To me, it’s a tired genre. However, others really enjoy it, and that’s great. If a courtroom drama would draw an adolescent into reading, I’m all for it. Whatever works. Once again, Monster may be an effective means to that end. Students will inevitably identify with Steve on many levels (as I did), and if that act of identification stimulates more reading, hooray!

            Final thoughts: Monster was a solid read—albeit hasty—and I think the style might be particularly effective with the media-addled minds of modern day adolescents. I appreciated the emotional complexity of Monster the most. I give it a thumbs-up.