Mail-Order Monsters

Mischievous monsters run riot in an elementary school in Acevedo’s raucous children’s book.

After petty feuds end his friendships with classmates Tinker and Knox, Marco Torres, a fifth grader at Gabriel García Márquez K-8 school somewhere near Lake Michigan, decides to procure new friends via an ad for “mail-order monsters” found in his dad’s vintage comic book. When they arrive, the monsters appear to be tiny, inert, rubber figurines, but he follows the instructions that tell him to take a bath with them; as promised, the figurines grow to be a foot tall and come to life. The three monsters are Growler, a red-furred gorilla with tentacles on his head who is a great digger and utters an ebullient, ear-splitting roar; Camo, a chameleonic character who changes color or turns invisible to blend with her surroundings and perfectly mimics any sound or voice; and Stinky, a green-skinned, yellow-haired creature whose power is to emit strong odors both nasty (rotting fish) and nice (fragrances of coconut and fried onion rings). When Marco takes them to school, the playful, talkative monsters cause a sensation among the students, who collectively agree to conceal their existence from adults—but the creatures inevitably raise merry hell with their antics. These include freaking people out by scrabbling noisily through the ventilation ducts; dumping a can of yellow paint on the janitor’s head; stealing the principal’s keys; stealing the teachers’ lunches; and releasing classroom pets from their cages. Marco’s popularity surges because of the monsters, but he also struggles to keep them secret from grown-ups and feels some guilt when they cross the line into mild delinquency. The monsters also catalyze a showdown with Tinker and Knox when Marco challenges Tinker to a toy-truck race, one vehicle to be driven by Growler and the other by Tinker’s homemade robot, Clank.

Acevedo’s yarn feels like a tamer version of Gremlins with a Latine flavor—most of Marco’s schoolmates are Latine and there are passages of Spanish dialogue. The narrative includes a raft of lessons on the importance of apologizing and not holding grudges, and about the moral imperative to grant autonomy to all sentient beings, human or not. The author has a shrewd feel for elementary school social psychology, from the tense jockeying for lunch-table seats to the bratty maneuvers by which Knox frames Marco for his own disruptions. (“Knox clucked like a chicken, over and over again, apparently hoping to rattle the class. Every time Mrs. Kroppert turned around, Knox turned to look at him. So naturally, she thought Marco was to blame.”) The characters are sharply drawn and lively, with the monsters standing out for their mix of oddball eccentricities and pluck. Acevedo’s prose is colorful and evocative, with lots of rambunctious energy (“That’s when the monsters made a break for it. He watched, aghast, as his desk top popped open and pencils, paper, and crayons flew in every direction. It looked like he’d set off a string of firecrackers”). Tweens will get a kick out of the spiky characters and vigorous storytelling. 

An entertaining fantasy romp that mixes uproarious japes with wise insights into friendship and forgiveness.