Cemetery Dance's re-issue of Daniel Kraus' debut novel, 'The Monster Variations,' with an eye-opening new introduction, cannot but be an occasion to celebrate. It's already been said enough times that the book is neither a thriller nor a horror novel. There's no point waiting for the shocking twist, the disturbing revelation, or some killer discovery. The new introduction implies that it's not a young adult novel either; I second this wholeheartedly. It's no doubt a terrific coming-of-age novel, but I found the wisdom and the insight in these pages originating in a viewpoint totally unique, an exceptional take on both preteen masculinity and young adulthood.
The book has been compared to Stephen King's novella of "The Body," its film adaptation "Stand By Me," but also to his novel "Hearts of Atlantis"; perhaps even a comparison to some of Dan Simmons novels would be not be far off the mark. Still, I personally think that Kraus' novel has very little to do with the perspective found in these other books: sure, it too is the story of young boys spending an eventful summer in their hometown - however, none of their experiences are typical of cheerful or nostalgic coming-of-age stories (there are no girls or even anything more than feeble hints of romantic relationships), nor have such stories ever been told with an eye so firmly kept on where the boys will end up as adults. In fact, most of the novel plays out as a convoluted psychological explanation of the varied specificities of adulthood: it starts with one of the characters leaving home for university, continues with another character found working in a garage, preparing for marriage and children, and ends with their shared memories of disaster, fatality, and death. In the middle of it all, there stands the life of a rather creepy and atypical bully, who spends a lot of time drawing mysterious pictures. Many times I thought that guy was in the spectrum, but when you get to know him better, you realize how family issues can affect a child in the most unpredictable of ways. This bully was my favorite character.
The bare skeleton of the plotline, the framework in which all these different stories are told, can be gathered, somewhat accurately, by reading the synopsis. But that's just background noise. It's like describing the ballpark without saying anything about the game. What I did not expect is the number of epiphanies the author had in store for his characters. By the end of the book, it was easy to relate to the thoughts compounded non-stop around father-son relationships, mother-son dependencies, and the acknowledgment that, though everyone is, in a sense, a product of their family, there are moments where personality clashes reveal novelty, distance, and variation. Essentially, these stories are indeed variations; variations of that monstrous preteen boy in every man's imagination, who's discovering that parents, friends, and most figures of authority may ultimately have to be the flotsam and jetsam of his life, if he is to survive and live.