(Full disclosure: I received a free e-book for review through Netgalley. Trigger warning for depictions of racism, homophobia, ableism, and bullying.)
At the time of this writing, we're only 49 days into the year, and I've been lucky enough to discover more favorite reads in this month and a half than in all of 2022. The streak continues with MONSTROUS: A TRANSRACIAL ADOPTION STORY, which is #9!
Comic book artist Sarah Myer (they/them) was born in South Korea and adopted by a white couple living in rural Maryland. Growing up in a conservative small town was hard enough as a non-white kid in a blended adoptive family - Sarah and their older sister Lizzie were two of just a handful of Asian kids in their school - but Sarah was different in other ways as well, even if it took them a while to fully understand and articulate the differences. In the interim, Sarah used the language they were most well-versed in to understand their un-belonging: "Monsters, aliens, mermaids, and mutants seemed like a good fit."
From a young age, Sarah was plagued by insecurity, low self-esteem, anxiety, fits of rage and violence, and vivid nightmares (particularly concerning the inner workings of the human body - a problem that was only exacerbated by their mother's breast cancer diagnosis). They excelled at art, especially drawing, and a childhood viewing of THE LITTLE MERMAID led to an obsession with mermaids - and a realization that their passion could one day sustain a career.
As Sarah got older, their "otherness" only grew, as did the bullying: racist, sexist, ableist, homophobic, and otherwise. Their interest in cartoons evolved into an obsession with SAILOR MOON and anime - years, if not decades, before anime became mainstream. As their hormone-addled classmates became fixated on the opposite sex (heteronormativity being the rule; a scene wherein the "gifted and talented" class discusses Mathew Shepard's murder is downright horrifying), Sarah remained mostly oblivious ... until developing a crush on Iris, a fellow theater geek. They often cosplayed as male characters as a pretext to dress how they wanted; as a way of expressing their queerness; or as a sort of armor against the outside world: "If I was in a costume, though, I felt safe. I was someone else." Sarah's small stature collided with stereotypes about "meek Asian women" and her supposedly "childish" interest in cartoons to further alienate them from their peers.
Perhaps this is why they were rarely punished (or received help) for their violent outbursts. Sarah depicts four instances where they lashed out physically against racist bullies. While it's hard not to cheer Sarah on (particularly when defending against physical harm; dad says what we're all thinking), their uncontrolled (or untreated) anger is clearly a problem. Sarah likens their anger to a monster: one that was self-created - and, thus, must also be self-conquered. Although, to be honest, this comparison seems unfair: the racist/sexist/ableist/homophobic bullies, who were tolerated/encouraged by the school administration, are at least equally at fault.
Sarah found bright spots where they could: art was a refuge, especially in the form of the after school GT Art Club, and they also discovered an affinity for acting when they land the part of Gavroche in LES MISERABLES. And, of course, as an adult Sarah is doing exactly what they dreamed of: writing, drawing, and teaching art.
While MONSTROUS is at its core a story about the author's experience as transracial adoptee, it's also highly relatable to anyone who's ever felt different, alien, or like an outsider. Monstrous. I use the word "compelling" a lot - maybe too much - but hey, if it fits (*shrug*). MONSTROUS isn't just a coming-of-age story, but perhaps one of the most evocative ones I've read. A graphic novel is the perfect medium for Sarah's storytelling, allowing them to give complex feelings physical form. And the artwork is simply marvelous: equal parts beautiful and grotesque, often simultaneously.