Monster, the fictional story of a sixteen-year-old boy (Steve Harmon) standing trial for murder, is a combination of different genres and forms and is anything but typical. Part memoir, part movie script this is novel for older children and young adults that works on many different levels, including as an unconventional coming of age story, a study in film making, and an introduction to the American judicial system. Although the story alternates between Harmon’s journal entries and his movie script version of the events that take place, any awkwardness caused by differences in format or even setting and time shifts are smoothed out by theme similarities. The downside to this is that at moments messages may come off as heavy-handed. In one instance when Harmon first faces the jury, there is a cut to Harmon’s high school film workshop.

The class is critiquing the end of a film and the film club mentor Mr. Sawicki refers to potential film viewers as “a kind of jury for [a] film.” He states, “If you make your film predictable, they’ll make up their minds about it long before it’s over.” While Mr. Sawicki’s analogy works well to tie the themes together, the message is rather obvious as one way the jury might view Harmon during his trial. And yet the brilliance of this analogy is how it works on an entirely different level as foreshadowing for the book itself. We, the readers of Monster or Harmon’s screenplay, are also a jury of sorts; and if his combination of memoir/screenplay is too predictable, we may also come to conclusions about his guilt or innocence long before completing his story.

Interestingly, despite being every bit Harmon’s story, one told from his experiences, the changes in “written” points of view could fool the reader. The screenplay is seemingly transcribed word for word; and yet the camera angles and shots are all created and controlled by Harmon. When Harmon writes about his inner thoughts in diary format, the effect is visceral. The reader is let into Harmon’s mind and emotions. In contrast, the screenplay portions of the novel represent Harmon’s attempt to be objective and to make sense of the crazy world in which he has been thrown.

Harmon steps out of himself and for instance imagines how it would feel to be a juror looking at a kid like him. The reader may unconsciously choose to read the screenplay sections as fact, but we must remember that Harmon is ultimately the story creator and has control over its many elements, from specific memories to word choice. Also, Harmon is limited to his immediate environment: in this case the detention center, the courtroom and places in his memories. To keep faithful to the story, Harmon cannot to any great extent describe what people are saying or doing outside of these places. Harmon may pick up on the outside world from his window, from chitchat among the guards and from asking his lawyer about her weekend; but Harmon’s confinement prevents him from writing a story with a completely omniscient perspective. Even Harmon admits that he has a hard time thinking about anything but his own fate. He has little knowledge of what his parents, the jurors, and his lawyer are all doing when away from the trial. In the end the reader may not receive a well-rounded perspective on the events that occur, but they witness a rather personal, engaging, and insightful account.

The visual style of the book also makes the story easy to follow and adds a measure of authenticity to the telling. Harmon’s journal entries are printed in a larger handwritten font, while his screenplay is laid out in the appropriate format and printed in a courier type font. The sporadic use of photographs and courtroom illustrations by Christopher Myers add an element of realism to the story.

Overall, Monster is a compelling story that represents a teen’s self-study and examination, something that to a great extent other young adults can relate to.