Recently, I feel like there have been a spate of releases in the YA market about end of the world disasters with a very Lord of the Flies/The Stand/The Breakfast Club blend to them. I’m not sure why all of these seem to retain an element of The Breakfast Club in them, though I assume that that’s at least partially due to the fact that there are so many well-trodden paths of social stratification in high school that it’s assumed that these groupings couldn’t be avoided
Whatever the case, I tend to be somewhat disappointed in them. While the proper elements for a page-turning, intriguing read are all present, it’s like that’s supposed to be enough with no further push in any direction to make the read engaging, or even just something that one might wish to continue reading. I can get myself pretty good and worked up about this (and no, I’m not a Breakfast Club hater–I sort of love the movie–but I *am* a staunch lover of unique storytelling and well-written books, which there seems to be a recent paucity of in this category.) Enter Emmy Laybourne’s Monument 14.
Monument 14 hits the perfect balance of potentially post-apocalyptic without being annoyingly over the time, stupidly redundant or absurdly organized. The characters are at once understandable, reasonable, well-written and believable. Not just believable as characters, but believable as sentient people. But here’s where they start to really take a turn of particularly interesting: these characters are of all different ages and backgrounds, ranging from elementary school to high school, with a few crazy adults mixed in for good measure. To put it another way, if Monument 14 were a dinner recipe, I’d love to have a taste.
In the story, we primarily follow Dean, a dorky high school kid who hops on the school bus along with his younger brother on a normal, average day preparing to head to school. Immediately we’re pulled into the story: the high school/junior high bus is attacked by a freak hail storm, along with the elementary school bus. The bus drivers barely manage to careen the buses into the largest parking lot in the area to get off the road: a superstore parking lot (essentially a giant Wal-Mart). Some kids are killed in the ensuing accidents, some are injured, and all are terrified. One bus driver dies, and the other bus driver barely manages to evacuate the kids from the older student bus before it explodes. With hail big enough to brain someone, all 14 survivors are holed up in the store for an unpredictable period of time.
At first, there’s the awkward what do we do nows? and who’s responsible for us? and how do we get ahold of our parents? As the reality of the situation begins to more clearly dawn on them (and as they come to realize that leaving isn’t going to be an option any time soon–but no spoilers on that one) they make a home of the superstore and try to logically make their way through each day in a logical manner. We see social strains, homesickness, revelations, temper tantrums (both of younger and older kids) and eventually we see new confidence and maturity that was certainly not there at the beginning of the ordeal.
What we don’t see throughout the tale is the ridiculous social stratification we get in, say, Quarantine. Nor do we see a “call of the wild” that fully mimics The Lord of the Flies. In many ways, the book that most comes to mind to compare this to is Stephen King’s The Stand, except with kids and only in a Wal-Mart equivalent and with no clear “Walking Dude.” They have their own demons to wrestle with, for sure, but they’re (for the most part) far less tangible ones.
The story itself is a fast-paced, page-turning event, which does a remarkable job of blending plot and dialogue, action with consequence, hope with disappointment. And all of these elements are indeed rather important here, particularly as there are so many characters involved. By the time I hit the end of the book, I was already looking up where I might go to get the next one–always a good sign.
The main character, Dean, is also a likable kid. He’s not as emotionally cool and yet attached as, say, Park of Rainbow Rowell’s Eleanor and Park, but he’s also not as annoying as either of the boys in Smith’s Grasshopper Jungle. Indeed, in many ways he reminds me of Peeta from Collins’s The Hunger Games, except dorkier.
Notably, there is some sexual conflict that occurs in the book and, as I’ve vaguely perused complaints with the book, there seems to be some concern with the character Sahalia, a 13-year-old who ends up being put in a very difficult assault position by one of the adults who stays briefly at the Safeway. This does lead to a troublesome scene, which is at once tense and understandably difficult for the characters.
However, what I’m reading from others suggests that people either a) didn’t read the book, b) didn’t pay attention to the context in which her scenes arose in the book or c) are looking for a fight, any or all of which may be true. Sahalia, for the record, is never raped in this book. Indeed, there are no rapes or sex scenes in this book, though truth be told, we have an end-of-the-world scenario, no parents or chaperones, and everyone staying together in a giant store. Maybe I’m the only one, but I find it completely believable–indeed, expected–that teens would be up to some sexual shenanigans in this situation. A couple of reviewers seem to have even gone so far as to suggest that Sahalia was “slut shamed,” though again, I find that wildly difficult to believe unless those people reviewing haven’t actually read the book, as the acts/words/events of the plot do not support this.
Essentially, she wants to be recognized by the guys as special. The guys are all either uninterested, too old or too young. So she takes to dressing fairly scantily and very impractically to attract attention. This isn’t a shaming when people call her out on it; it’s a one time request that she actually put on clothes, rather than hop around a group of kids partially nude specifically to attract attention. In all, I thought that Sahalia was a highly realistic young character, but I also thought that the way she was addressed by her peers was quite realistic as well. We can all attack characters, but at the end of the day, people are people are characters, too. Unless you’re incredibly sensitive, I can’t see any of the characters or scenes in this book being problematic.
Sooo. . .. anyone else out there read this? Any thoughts about the book? The characters?
The Alpha and the Omega: The Endless Ramblings of a YA Lit Lover 