The Monstrumologist by Rick Yancey

Among the books I listed for the RIP challenge, Monstrumologist is the one I have the least expectation on. I stupidly overlooked the fact that it carries a Printz medallion on the cover, or blurbs comparing it to the works of celebrated horror-fiction writers like Shelley, King and Lovecraft. I should have thought better and prepared myself for what was to come.

While most kids, when scared, are comforted by their parents, saying that there’s no such thing as monsters, William James Henry, age 12, was forced to believe the otherwise; Monsters are indeed real. Dr. Warthrop, a monstrumologist, the doctor Will is apprenticed to, has the evidence to prove his claim. He happens to have a dead Anthropophagi hanging on his basement, and there are more of them, alive and ready to give anyone the deadly embrace, lurking just around the vicinity. So begins the diary of a 130-year old Will where he recounts his adventures – or nightmares, I should say – when was under the apprenticeship of the monstrumologist.

I had the assumption that Monstrumologist is a horror book geared towards the younger-end of the YA audience, and this, as I learned while reading it, is one big stupid assumption. Monstrumologist is narrated by a very old man who grew up in the 19^th century so a wide-range of vocabulary and poetic-like passages is to be expected. I have to admit that it was rather hard to get into the story for this reason, but once I got used to it and have my good ol’ dictionary by my side, I found myself breathing in every word, every paragraph of this wonderfully crafted gothic ‘tour de force’ novel.

Monstrumologist is also the type of book that should come with a warning: Caution: Not for the faint heart or weak stomach – that sort of thing. Some scenes are so detailed it leaves some horrifying mental images to the reader. Several times I caught myself looking away from the text as if I was watching it instead, and such cowardly actions such as “looking away” will make me miss those violence and gory scenes. I copied the following passage from the book to give you a taste of Yancey’s version of gore:

“The [human] head is the most coveted prize. The first to reach her seizes it and wrenches it from her neck, and her still-beating heart flushes her blood through that makeshift orifice; a steaming geyser into the air and paints crimson their[Anthropophagi] teeming alabaster bodies.”(p. 140)

I don’t know if it’s because of my nature to devour violent scenes(I’m not a psychopath, that I can assure you.), I find the book addicting despite its terrifying atmosphere.

This novel is not just a mere exposition of the horrors brought by the Anthropophagi, though. It is also a profound exploration of the ‘monstrosities who, with a smile and a comforting pat on the head, are willing to sacrifice a child upon the altar of their own overweening ambition and pride.‘(p.47). Often I was asked a question I failed to answer immediately; which is more terrifying – a monster who is designed to kill and prey upon humans or a man who is given a mind to process judgement but chose instead to prey upon the said monsters, thus turning him into the very creature he studies and hunts?

This question wouldn’t be as effective as it was if not for the outstanding realization of Rick Yancey’s characters. There is one particular character that strikes me the most, John Kearns. Despite his dark and galling personality, I find his character really refreshing. I’ve never seen or read, for that matter, someone like him before. He’s a welcome addition to the already-complicated relationship of Will and Dr. Warthrop, which brings me to my next point.

At first, it is quite apparent that Will despise Warthrop, and Warthrop considers Will nothing but a tool. Their relationship is bounded by circumstance, not of choice. But as the story unfolds, I discovered depths to their relationship. Both of them are longing for the affection from their fathers and this demise both of them are suffering from led them to appreciate each other’s worth. The growth in their relationship is the tenderness the novel needed to contrast its grim atmosphere. It is the solitary ray of light amidst the darkness that envelops the whole book.

I also liked the innovative prologue and epilogue. It is a brief history of how Will’s diary arrived to the hand of Rick Yancey, the author. I’ve read books that claims that the story they present is a real one, but Yancey gave this ‘the story within is real’ element a clever twist. The diary became something like the videotapes used in horror movies like Blairwitch Project and Paranormal Activity. It is left to the audience’ imagination whether to believe if this diary is real or not. But this is trivial, really, for Will’s story itself is powerful enough without this and it only served as an icing on the cake – a cake made from human carcass and has pus for flavoring, that is. Bon Appetit!