By Patrick Ness
A #1 manhattan Times bestseller
An unflinching, darkly humorous, and deeply relocating tale of a boy, his heavily in poor health mom, and an unforeseen big visitor.
At seven mins previous nighttime, thirteen-year-old Conor wakes to discover a monster outdoors his bed room window. however it is not the monster Conor's been expecting-- he is been watching for the only from his nightmare, the nightmare he is had approximately each evening in view that his mom began her remedies. The monster in his yard is diverse. it really is historical. And wild. And it wishes anything from Conor. whatever bad and hazardous. It desires the reality. From the ultimate notion of award-winning writer Siobhan Dowd-- whose untimely demise from melanoma avoided her from writing it herself-- Patrick Ness has spun a haunting and darkly humorous novel of mischief, loss, and monsters either actual and imagined.
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Extra resources for A Monster Calls: Inspired by an Idea from Siobhan Dowd
Nothing he wanted to write about, though. His father leaving. The cat wandering off one day and never coming back. The afternoon when his mother said they needed to have a little talk. He frowned and kept walking. But then again, he also remembered the day before that day. His mum had taken him to his favourite Indian restaurant and let him order as much vindaloo as he wanted. ” and ordered plates of it for herself, too. They’d started farting before they’d even got back in the car. On the drive home, they could hardly talk from laughing and farting so hard.
I am not a “what”, frowned the monster. I am a “who”. ” Conor said. The monster’s eyes widened. Who am I? it said, its voice getting louder. Who am I? The monster seemed to grow before Conor’s eyes, getting taller and broader. A sudden, hard wind swirled up around them, and the monster spread its arms out wide, so wide they seemed to reach to opposite horizons, so wide they seemed big enough to encompass the world. I have had as many names as there are years to time itself! roared the monster. I am Herne the Hunter!
Not his mum, obviously, but no one else either, not his dad in their fortnightly (or so) phone call, definitely not his grandma, and no one at school. Absolutely not. What happened in the nightmare was something no one else ever needed to know. Conor blinked groggily at his room, then he frowned. There was something he was missing. He sat up in his bed, waking a bit more. The nightmare was slipping from him, but there was something he couldn’t put his finger on, something different, something– He listened, straining against the silence, but all he could hear was the quiet house around him, the occasional tick from the empty downstairs or a rustle of bedding from his mum’s room next door.
A Monster Calls: Inspired by an Idea from Siobhan Dowd by Patrick Ness