What Lessons Does 'A Monster Calls' Teach About Coping?

The book 'a monster calls' hits hard with its raw portrayal of grief. The monster isn’t just some scary creature—it’s a manifestation of Conor’s denial and anger. The biggest lesson? You can’t skip the messy parts of coping. Conor tries to bottle up his pain, pretending everything’s fine, but the monster forces him to face the truth: it’s okay to feel rage, to scream, to break things. The story nails how society expects us to ‘handle’ loss neatly, but real healing is chaotic. The yew tree’s tales also flip moral lessons—sometimes there’s no ‘right’ choice, just survival. The book’s final gut punch? Admitting you want the suffering to end doesn’t make you a monster; it makes you human.

This story wrecked me in the best way. It’s not about ‘moving on’—it’s about how grief rewires you. The monster’s lessons are counterintuitive: sometimes being ‘seen’ hurts more than being ignored. When Conor admits he wants his mom’s suffering to end, it’s horrific but freeing. The book critiques toxic positivity—no ‘everything happens for a reason’ crap here. Instead, it validates fury. The yew tree’s stories aren’t fairytales; they’re messy parables where heroes do awful things. That’s the point: coping isn’t about becoming ‘good,’ it’s about staying alive.

What stunned me was the physicality of grief. The monster’s destruction mirrors how pain feels—uncontrollable, explosive. Conor’s fists clenched, his nightmares, even the way he tears his grandma’s room apart show grief as a bodily experience. The book also nails how isolation amplifies pain. The school scenes where no one mentions his mom? Brutally accurate. For a visual take, the film adaptation uses stunning watercolor animations during the tales, making emotions literally bleed off the screen. If you liked this, 'The Book Thief' handles similar themes with Death as the narrator—another unconventional guide through loss.

'A Monster Calls' is a masterclass in emotional honesty. The monster serves as Conor’s therapist, confronting his deepest fear—accepting his mother’s impending death. The first lesson is brutal: avoidance fuels destruction. Conor’s denial manifests as self-harm (the destroyed room) and aggression (bullying at school). The monster’s stories reinforce that humans aren’t purely good or evil—we contain contradictions. The princess who lets villagers die to save her child isn’t a villain; she’s desperate. This reframes Conor’s guilt about wishing his mom would just die already.

The second layer explores societal failure. Adults keep telling Conor platitudes like ‘be brave,’ but no one teaches him how. The grandmother’s sterile perfectionism and the dad’s emotional distance highlight how ill-equipped people are to handle grief. The monster’s arrival at 12:07 isn’t random—it’s when Conor’s nightmares peak, symbolizing how trauma doesn’t follow schedules. The book’s genius lies in showing coping as a non-linear process. Conor doesn’t ‘get better’; he learns to hold two truths: his mom is dying, and he still deserves love.

For deeper reads on grief, try 'The Year of Magical Thinking' by Joan Didion. It’s nonfiction but mirrors 'A Monster Calls’ themes with surgical precision.