Terri M. LeBlanc
Written on Jan 16, 2022
Well, I read it. I can't say I fully understood EXACTLY what was going on in the story AT ALL.
How do you save the world from monsters if no one will admit they exist?
She stumbled backwards, her eyes wide, as the figure started coming out of the canvas
...
She tried to be brave. Well, she said, her hands only a little shaky, at least tell me what I should call you.
...
Well, little girl, it replied, I suppose you can call me Pet.
There are no more monsters anymore, or so the children in the city of Lucille are taught. With doting parents and a best friend named Redemption, Jam has grown up with this lesson all her life. But when she meets Pet, a creature made of horns and colours and claws, who emerges from one of her mother's paintings and a drop of Jam's blood, she must reconsider what she's been told. Pet has come to hunt a monster, and the shadow of something grim lurks in Redemption's house. Jam must fight not only to protect her best friend, but also to uncover the truth.
In their riveting and timely young adult debut, acclaimed novelist Akwaeke Emezi asks difficult questions about what choices a young person can make when the adults around them are in denial.
- ISBN10 0593104943
- ISBN13 9780593104941
- Publish Date 10 September 2019
- Publish Status Cancelled
- Imprint Listening Library
- Edition Bot Exclusive ed.
- Format Audiobook (CD)
- Duration 5 hours and 30 minutes
- Language English
Reviews
nannah
Written on Apr 13, 2021
Content warnings:
- ableism
- child abuse
- pedophilia
Representation:
- the protagonist, Jam, is a selectively mute black trans girl
- her best friend’s parents are polyamorous
There are no more monsters in the city of Lucille. Prisons have been abolished, the police have been abolished, firearms have been banned, statues of colonizers have been replaced by monuments with names of the dead, etc. (you get the idea of the kind of alternate future this presents). Jam and her best friend, Redemption, have grown up in this utopia feeling safe and loved by their parents and peers - until a creature in one of Jam’s mother’s paintings comes to life and says it’s hunting a monster.
Right off the bat, I knew the writing style and I wouldn’t mix. A lot of the beginning (which was backstory) came across as preachy - even if I agreed with what was being said! - and slightly condescending. Characters' emotions change within seconds (Jam’s scared of the painting → a couple sentences later she wonders how she could ever be scared of it; Redemption is literally sobbing → one line of dialogue later, he’s like, “Whoa, cool!”). Emotions are told to the reader and only rarely shown: “The thing sighed and its voice dripped with even more condescension than it had before, which was kind of impressive. [...] And just like that, she was back to being annoyed.”
There are also an incredible amount of redundancies, and epiphanies happen in the most convenient times - sometimes off page. Places where the most impactful scenes could happen, like the one between Jam and Redemption, also happen off page. Their big fight (one that’s foreshadowed from the beginning) is a voicemail message. It feels like a copout, like the author didn’t know how to handle that confrontation.
The book is also very much spoiled when it ruins the “mystery” of who the monster is when right after the creature talks about hunting the monster, a new character is introduced. One described as being almost too good to be true. When Jam talks about how safe everyone is, she lingers on this person for about three-fourths of a page, compared to the 3 sentences everyone else got.
These are honestly a matter of opinion. There are some examples of really lovely writing as well (“The drive to the movie theater was quiet, with only the wind breaking against the edge of the windows. / When they pulled up, Redemption was standing on the sidewalk, waiting, tall and whipcord lean. [...] His hugs were her favorite, solid and strong and never halfway.”). The characters are vibrant too, especially Redemption and Ube, the librarian! And the very last scene is incredibly lovely and almost poetic. There are many things I love - I just feel like the book needs a few more drafts to lock everything in.
But I do need to talk about the ableism. In this utopia where all -isms and hate/prejudice against minority groups have been dismantled, ableism still exists. “Crazy” is everywhere in the text, it’s hinted that people would still react badly to someone talking to themselves (and this is written out as a joke), and Jam has thoughts like, “It was possible he thought she was out of her mind.” Normally I wouldn't be this nitpicky, but it feels like a slap in a book where every other group’s prejudices don't exist.
It's especially true for the ending, where we have the “disability as punishment” trope. I can see how it fits in the story thematically, but it's a really hurtful and harmful line of thought that still exists today. In the end, the monster becomes blinded by the monster-hunting creature, which is revealed to be an angel. Unfortunately, people still seem to think we disabled people must have gotten our conditions/diseases/etc. because we’ve done something wrong - or because we’ve done something wrong in our past lives, depending what religion you are or where you live. This book really could’ve done something else at the ending here - especially given how the victim didn’t have a voice at all (and wasn’t even present during the climax - strange considering it was their monster). At the end they were basically a doll to be fussed over, not even given a line so we understood what they thought about everything that happened.
Ultimately I do think this book has some brilliant aspects and is a very interesting idea. It’s maybe just not polished enough.
Angie
Written on Jun 23, 2020
+Jam is black and trans and selectively mute. And now...a monster hunter.
+Magical paintings that come to life with blood!
+Set in a utopia where all monsters have been defeated. Or so they think. There will always be monsters hiding among us. If you're wondering, these aren't like boogeyman monsters. Monsters are just people who do bad things.
NO!
-The writing style kind of bothered me at times. Sometimes it was very young sounding, almost like a MG, but then there's a bunch of uses of the S-word. It was a bit jarring.
layawaydragon
Written on Feb 12, 2020
-LOVE ALL OF IT, CHARACTERS, SETTING, WORLD BUILDING, PACING, ENDING, ETC ETC
-UNIQUE AF, UNLIKE ANYTHING YOU'VE EVER READ
-WRITING IS AMAZING
-I haven't read Emezi's Freshwater, but I will and will continue with her new releases
-Hells yes I would let my 12 year old to read this. I'd love it if she did!
-There is no vigilante justice. It doesn't advocate vigilante justice. It actively argues AGAINST IT. Anyone who thinks that clearly skimmed or didn't get it. An angel compels the abuser to confess and there's a trial and society changes again. Seriously!! THIS IS NOT FUCKING BATMAN FFS.
But an echo of a memory is not the same as a memory, and a memory is not the same as now, and anyway, he'd said it loud enough that the painting heard it.
But forgetting is dangerous. Forgetting is how the monsters come back.
Pet crouched down and slid its spine from side to side, as if stretching. "It is not a what. It is a who. The why is monstrous. The when is here."
Adults were like that so much of the time, inflexible when they thought they had something to protect.
You think you see everything, so you think everything you see is all there is to be seen.
Jam could pretend that everything had stopped, and in that space of that pause, she could breathe.
"Ain't no grown-up in the whole of Lucille grown enough to tell you you don't deserve answers to your questions. You understand?"
lovelybookshelf
Written on Jan 30, 2020
The town of Lucille is essentially a utopia. Its older citizens have done some hard, difficult work. Justice is restorative, not punitive. There's a deep sense of community, of caring for each other as if they're all family, of getting to the root of problems and working them out. The community emphasizes free access to knowledge and the importance of public spaces like libraries. But Lucille is also a reminder that when we think we've figured things out, we must stay vigilant; complacency makes us unable and/or unwilling to acknowledge that injustices continue to occur.
With its powerful storyline and its emotional final scenes, PET addresses the cynicism that can creep in and exhaust people who care about social justice, offering discernment and a clear-sighted sense of hope instead.