The Monument is of similar structure to Tiltawhirl John, The Foxman, and Dancing Carl, three Gary Paulsen novels from the 1970s and '80s. A young character finds an elder they admire to help fashion their own worldview, while the narrative hints at a life-altering event to come that will end their time with that person. Thirteen-year-old Rocky has had a rough go of it. Abandoned by her mother as an infant, she spent years in an orphanage, figuring her gimpy left leg meant she would never be adopted. But Fred and Emma Hemesvedt took a chance, and soon Rocky was their new daughter in small-town Bolton, Kansas. The Hemesvedts often drink themselves into a stupor, but Rocky is grateful to be out of the orphanage.
Some locals decide Bolton should have a memorial stone honoring those killed in the Vietnam War, but Rocky doesn't show real interest until the artist arrives. Mick Strum is eccentric and pops a cork at least as much as the Hemesvedts, but Rocky takes a shine to him. He's in Bolton to make his creative pitch to town leaders for the Vietnam memorial. Rocky has never interacted with an artist, and is fascinated by how Mick views the townsfolk. Python, the stray dog Rocky adopted a while back when he was on death row for stealing chickens, also likes Mick, and Rocky trusts Python's judgment.
"(L)ife is really, really organic. It moves all the time and flexes when you least expect it to flex".
—The Monument, P. 4
Who knew being an artist was such a burden on the soul? Rocky is nonplussed by Mick's habit of weeping while sketching ordinary things about town, but his commitment to art leaves her spellbound. Rocky resolves that she must become an artist; Mick volunteers to help refine her basic drawing form, but cautions that only she can make herself into an artist. As the time comes for Mick to present his monument concept and be approved or denied by the people of Bolton, Rocky dreads the day he departs this town for good. How will she chase her dream without him? Maybe Mick is right, and only Rocky can figure out what she will look like as an artist.
Such a simple novel, The Monument, at least on the surface. We discover alongside Rocky the burning, painful beauty of identity as an artist, lighting yourself aflame to illuminate the path of others. Rocky is disconcerted by Mick's emotional immersion in the subjects he draws, but he's experiencing the glory of life. Drawings emerge that give perspective on a place or person steeped in tragedy or love. The artist has to pull the narrative from the depths, a wriggling, sometimes ugly creature that captivates the viewer.
Rocky's epiphany comes while browsing an Edgar Degas art book. She envisions herself in a painting of a distraught young girl with a group of dancers. Rocky is choked by grief that the people in the painting lived and died long ago and she will never know the nuances of their story. The surprising weight of that sadness drives her to tears, but Emma Hemesvedt consoles Rocky that the girls aren't truly gone. "But they aren't, don't you see? There's still the painting, isn't there? You have that. You will always have the picture, won't you? So they can never be gone." The loss of a unique person leaves a ragged hole, but they haven't vanished without a trace. Every Moses, Sophocles, Leonardo da Vinci, Abraham Lincoln, or Michael Jackson remains with us in the beautiful things they created from the depths of their soul. We derive joy from it even if we'll never have a personal relationship with them. This is how one escapes mourning and finds eternal good in an all too short life.
There are dozens of Gary Paulsen novels I love, and The Monument joins that group. His commentary on the hows and whys of art apply to him as aptly as any painter. Paulsen was one of one in literary history, a word artist from a highly unlikely background. On a separate note, The Monument injects just the right amount of reverence and emotion for soldiers lost in war through the ages, especially the ending scene with Mr. Takern. I rate this book three and a half stars and considered higher; it's not the most profound work of Gary Paulsen's career, but isn't far off.