The genesis of A Monster Calls was the brainchild of Siobhan Dowd, a British writer and activist known for her work in adolescent literature and her belief in its power to shape the direction of society. She not only believed in the intelligence of young readers, but also their potential to grow into adults capable of fostering a more empathetic world. As a result, she wrote with unapologetic honesty, producing complex and emotionally rich stories that refused to shy away from the darker aspects of human experience. More specifically, her nuanced narratives explored political conflict, human rights, grief, loss, mental health, and teen pregnancy, all while offering a compass for young people to navigate the tumultuous journey of adolescence and the turbulent world beyond themselves.

 A Monster Calls was the last story Dowd would conceive, as she tragically passed away from her battle against breast cancer in 2007. According to Patrick Ness, the author who carried her idea forward, “[Dowd] had the characters, a premise, and a beginning. What she didn’t have, unfortunately, was time.” Yet even without time, she left a legacy. A Monster Calls not only became an award-winning novel, but a 2016 screen adaptation and a 2018 stage adaptation on the West End that captivated audiences from all walks of life.

The story, as developed by Ness in honor of Dowd’s original idea, follows Conor, a young boy wrestling with grief, loss, anger, and guilt as he processes his mother’s terminal illness. His trials do not end there, however, as he also encounters daily bullying from peers who do not understand him. His anxieties result in vivid night terrors and visits from a calling monster. Whether perceived as divine intervention or the physical manifestation of his internalized woes, the monster guides Conor through the tribulations of unpacking his present day realities. But, more importantly, the monster aids Conor in confronting his darkest truth–a truth that in its relativity to each individual is both universal and inevitable.

Reflecting on the process of bringing A Monster Calls to fruition, Ness remarks:

“I wouldn’t have taken it on if I didn’t have complete freedom to go wherever I needed to go with it. . . . [Dowd] would have set it free, let it grow and change. So I wasn’t trying to guess what she might have written; I was merely following the same process she would have followed.”

Following Ness’s example in bringing Dowd’s idea to life, the students of D-E Theatre have chosen not to replicate the original West End staging scene by scene. Like Ness, they have set the story free. In doing so, they have allowed it to grow and evolve, honoring Dowd’s own creative process while shaping a production that speaks truthfully to our specific venue, participants, and community. As Ness advises in his notes to any director taking on this project, “Stories don’t end with writers, however many started the race. So go. Run with it. Make trouble.” And trouble they have made.

As we dim the lights of our house in order to cast Conor’s story on our stage in honor of Dowd and all those processing grief, we ask you to remember that there is no single or “correct” way to experience it. Grief is heavy and unpredictable. It ebbs and flows. For many, it exists in a paradoxical vacuum, causing individuals to weather storms of contrasting feelings that result in confusion, guilt, suffering, and pain. But grief can also be beautiful in that it represents a connection–a connection that is fueled by a love that was and a love that endures. However one experiences grief, or whatever stage in its process one may be, grief–in all its complexities and contradictions–is a reminder of our shared humanity. Multiple things can be true at the same time, and there is one particular truth, stated by D-E’s very own Conor, we must never forget: “Pain is only temporary; there are always people to help you through it, whether they are ‘monsters’ or friends in your life” (Logan Passe ’28).

Thank you for joining us in this experience. Now sit back, relax, learn, and enjoy the show.

In navigating the intensity of his experience, Conor has no true escape. He is trapped at home and at school, but also in his dreams and imagination. To communicate this sense of entrapment, our conceived world rarely relies on literal set pieces. Instead, we utilize the power of suggestion so the focus remains on Conor and the raw landscape of his emotions.

The stage is framed by walls in forced perspective—suggestive of a hospital, an asylum, or a school—slowly overtaken by symbolic elements that bend, break, wrap, and consume like the undercurrent of grief itself. Through the fractured windows, there is the faint awareness of life beyond loss, but it is a promise that, for now, remains out of reach.

Yet, within all this hardship lies one crucial element at the heart of our design: hope. Though Conor may feel isolated on our stage, he is never truly alone. An audience watches, listens, understands, and empathizes throughout the entire tale. The walls may be high, but light still shines through and music soars. Through this portrayal of Conor’s world, and through the enduring gift of Dowd’s story, we can always remember that in our own way we all have the power to walk each other home.

“The answer is that it does not matter what you think. Because your mind will contradict itself a hundred times each day. . . . Your mind will believe comforting lies while also knowing the painful truths that make those lies necessary. And your mind will punish you for believing both. . . . Belief is half of all healing.”

“The answer is that it does not matter what you think. Because your mind will contradict itself a hundred times each day. . . . Your mind will believe comforting lies while also knowing the painful truths that make those lies necessary. And your mind will punish you for believing both. . . . Belief is half of all healing.”

Jeffrey Hogan 

Audio Equipment provided by INS and OUTS Inc.

All construction and artistry for this production was performed by members of T.S.T.D.E and the Middle School Theatre Arts classes

• Eliza Herman ’27 – President
• Maleah Liao ’27 – Vice President
• Caroline Chu ’27
• Joshua Kim ’26
• Elizabeth Lan ’28
• Julie Lan ’29
• Eva Louro ’28
• Bennett Sachs ’29
• Audrey Son ’27
• Andre Valencia ’27

• Alexander Chu
• Mason Lai
• Allula Lapico
• Amelie Marek
• Gigi Nwankpah
• Linda Shan