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By the author of the award-winning The Ghost Garden, a bravely imagined, deeply empathetic novel of two adolescent boys, bound by friendship and a terrible secret. With love and sex so deeply entwined with betrayal and abuse, how does a boy grow up?
Monday Rent Boy begins in Somerset, England, in the mid-1980s, with the winning and heart-warming story of two 13-year-old friends and fellow altar boys, Arthur Barnes and Ernie Castlefrank. Endearing outcasts, they try not to speak of the secret tie that binds them: both boys are routinely preyed on by The Zipper, their nickname for Father Ziperto, the local Catholic priest. Still, they find adventure and release in the mischief they get up to together, as each also tries to survive in other ways. Arthur, a great reader and denier of reality, finds an ally in town bookseller Marina Phillips. Ernie, a gifted mathematician and animal lover, is not so lucky. As he and Arthur age out of the abuse, Ernie notices younger and equally vulnerable boys being recruited. When he tries to blow the whistle, nobody believes him. At 16, he disappears, a loss that almost destroys his best friend but also confirms for Arthur that he was smart to stay silent.
Arthur eventually also turns his back on the mystery of Ernie's disappearance, but his bookselling mentor and friend Marina Phillips finds a way to follow Ernie where rage and betrayal has led him — into the darkest corners of the dark web — a search that ultimately helps Arthur reckon with what happened to them both. In the novel’s stunning, deeply affecting conclusion, Doherty draws a line directly from the covered-up abuse of children by Catholic priests to the current proliferation of child pornography and predators online — miraculously revealing the true heart of darkness while managing to affirm the light.
Quote: “The boy’s polished black Oxfords were neatly tied, his trousers ironed and tidily hemmed. I turned away, but Ernie couldn’t stop staring.
Maybe the boy would adjust, I thought, even bounce back.
No. He would never bounce back.”
Set during the mid-1980s Glastonbury, it is the story of two thirteen-year-old best friends - Arthur Barnes, an avid reader and Ernie Castlefrank, animal lover and mathematics whiz. Despite their different personalities and interests, they share a deep bond of being the neighborhood outcasts due to their rebellious antics and their wayward family lifestyles, but still the most heartiest of companions. But, even with their level of trust, there is one binding secret they have in common that neither of them is able to admit aloud - '...which made it seem like nothing terrible had actually happened. Better that than to divulge what had been asked of us, or to worry about what was next'; of how they both have been one of the altar boys favored by the local Catholic priest, Father Ziperto aka The Zipper. Too afraid to acknowledge the role they fulfill in the locked vestry of the chapel as a Monday Rent Boy. Their path of pain unfolds in three respective parts, where Susan Doherty portrays how these two young boys struggled with what has happened to them, while trying to make their lives worthwhile, till the point that it is but a stain that can no longer be avoided. ? It is that betrayal which ultimately breaks apart their steadfast friendship, severing their ties, as they individually venture onto two tragic paths of seeking ways to cope with the guilt they could not erase, and the heaviness that lingered in their hearts and souls.
“When we reached our usual spot at the cemetery, Ernie slumped to the ground and put his head in his hands. I sat down beside him and reached out a tentative hand, which he slapped away.
“Why are you hanging around with me? Leave, for God’s sake,” he hissed. “You’re more of a loser than me. A book nerd, an idiot, a total mama’s boy. I don’t need anything from you. Get lost.”
But I saw through all that nonsense. “It’ll work out for Nathan,” I said. “Somehow, it’s going to work out.”
The first part alternates between Arthur and Ernie's perspective, as they go about their daily lives and shows glimpses into their memories of what they had to do at the Father's request - how they were forced to stay silent - a warning instilled in them since their childhood - 'if you tell someone, you kill us both' - a burden of silence that keeps them mum, even now. ? Arthur refused to acknowledge it, hoping that by keeping quiet, he could pretend it ever happened, choosing to bury his denial in reading books and dreaming of a future where he can escape this memory. 'I didn’t know how to escape, or where to go, or who to tell. We were prisoners because of what we had agreed to do, over and over again.' It is a sharp contrast to Ernie who is aching to scream it at someone of how he is being violated - choosing to act in aggression against his stepfather - physically harming himself - long for his older brother's acceptance and still feel that helplessness of being unable to help a tortured animal in pain.
Their friendship was something so precious to both of them - a solace against the grief of their lives, especially Ernie, who spent more time at Arthur's home than his own troubled one. The author breathed life into both of them very well; I got to know who they were as individuals and how greatly affected they were about what had happened to them. ? I don't blame Arthur for staying silent - 'I was trapped either way: speak up or shut up' - for feeling relief that he is no longer preyed upon as he gets older and no longer fulfills the Father's wishes, but he still carries that shameful gift of being recognized as one of his chosen ones - a silver cross that is the catalyst to which spurs Ernie to ask Arthur for his support, when he no longer can stay silent - hoping a man of higher power will believe what is happening to them. Ernie's - desperation for his assistance - that if two voices speak up now, maybe people will believe them, then others can be saved from the abuse of the Zipper who 'had an uncanny knack for finding the weakest boys, separating them from the pack, and then killing them one by one from the inside out.' ? But, can you fault Arthur for being too afraid - too ashamed of what would happen if others found out - the guilt that would torment his mother that she was helpless to protect him - powerless to the very minister that she trusted? Could he, the dutiful son, expose his mother to such grief?
“I was weeping for Ernie, for myself and for my lack of courage, completely undone by the headmaster’s compassionate touch.”
It is his refusal at the most volatile of moments that tears them apart, setting the course for their choice of a future without the other. A decision that leads Ernie to lash out in vindictive revenge, forgoing his own pain, at the cost of other much younger unsuspecting children, seeking out the most suitable f contenders. That keen hurt of frustration at his own best friend's betrayal of not supporting him - it is that burden that I felt so much pity for him - and confusion as to why he decided to do what he did. Even if necessary circumstances force him into doing so, why?? Why did he have to get involved?? ? The guilt of denial, the inability for the the truth to matter eats away at both of them; through the passage of time, we get to see just how much it affected them - mentally, physically, and emotionally. 'For sure, Ernie had stopped crying a long time ago. That’s the thing. When you do something over and over again, it starts to look and sound and feel normal.' And the fact that I was torn between being empathetic and sympathetic to both their situations, is a testament of powerful effective writing. The ease in which the author guided us through both perspectives, the subtlety in which she touched upon their emotional and vulnerable states of mind really moved me.
It is never easy reading a story that deals with a sensitive and difficult subject such as child abuse and child pornography; but the author skillfully addressed it - without any need for gratuitous or explicit content- with just the right amount of details that got under my skin to make me feel deeply uncomfortable at how how wrong it was, is commendable. The idea of him or anyone else being shopped around made me feel despicable, dirty, complicit.' She wrote Ernie and Arthur's separate thoughts and feelings in a way that is so fleeting and limited in the words, but their shame - their pain - their loss of innocence - and the anger of longing for a life without knowing that they could been victims of such an indecent act could exist - hurt my heart - in more ways than any graphic details could.
It is only a very slight mention, but it is enough to have the pity and ache rip through me, enough to show how helpless they were, even when they felt complacent. It was unnerving and unsettling - and then I thought of the victims who have experienced this, and lived with it - and I realized my own discomfort pales in comparison to theirs. 'Even more shameful? My complicity in our encounters. There were times when it hurt, or I bled, or I was scared, degraded, embarrassed, guilty, but I’d also felt physical pleasure—which confused and horrified me. Is it still abuse if you enjoy it?' We don't need details to know just how much damage was done that affected their mental and physical state as viscerally as it did - it was palpable in their actions, alone. She does not shy away in showing how grown men manipulate children with their words - silencing them into submission out of fear and gratitude for the kindness they choose to bestow upon them. ? It is probably the highest praise for how skillfully the author painted a subject so very disturbing, but still makes it one that is not about assigning blame or pointing fingers, but to understand the depths of where it comes from. And what we, as individuals can do to prevent it from happening again.
“When the saints and the tormentors are one and the same, we do not matter.” I heard the catch in his voice despite the hardness of his words.
After that we were silent, like the old days when we each carried the burden alone.”
The next two parts, in my opinion, made the narrative slow down and lose a little of that visceral tug at my heart. For as time goes on, the two young men move forward in their lives - or, are they? Now eighteen, Arthur is trying to live a normal college life - Ernie is surviving. We are then treated to Marina Philips' perspective, a bookshop owner who saw the untapped potential in Arthur, who pushed him to further his studies and not squander his literary talents. She was also one who was privy to their deep friendship of how close they were to one another. And as it is, in a strange twist of fate of circumstance, she recalls that perhaps there was something she had missed in their company - signs that she didn't quite notice before. But, somehow, by the mercy of God or the hand of Fate, the truth slowly starts to unravel for her in a strange course if events that makes the truth now impossible for her to deny or ignore or not act upon. Even if it is years too late - it is not too late to save another life. It seems wrong of me to not appreciate her involvement, for it is through her kindness and acceptance of Arthur, he was able to save himself - at least a little bit. I think, however, it would have added much more depth if we had more of Ernie's point of view and the challenges he faced. ? I wanted to know more of his thoughts and his reactions - we never get to learn about how much he has sacrificed and the toll of how the path he chose has affected him. And well, I guess, there was a reason behind it.
The final part covers how technological advances have made the lucrative market for these sick and twisted people who deserve a punishment worse than death have broadened their reach from just photographs by hand to expanding it on the dark web - a system so debase and corrupt, I feel sick just thinking about it. The advent of the internet made the demand for such a disgusting act rise exponentially, where predators are relentless in deriving the most pleasure for their own personal twisted satisfaction. It made me so angry that I wanted to cry, because they were so proud of their success and it disgusted me. I wish they would be smite with the most vile and cruelest form of torture that they feel every bit of agony on their flesh! ?? And while I felt that this portion lose a bit of that humane personal touch with the technical jargon of their sick profitable business, I also understood the necessity of it to show just how low humanity will sick and not experience an iota of shame or guilt for their depraved sense of mind. It made the ending seem a bit rushed - almost as if there really is no other choice for those involved - that what we get is their redemption - an absolution of the guilt they've had to carry.
“Remember when we lay in the arms of a sycamore tree and everything good seemed to be ahead of us? I could cry, but my eyes don’t make tears anymore.
They don’t even shut, as far as I can tell. I sleep with them wide open so my dreams won’t haunt me.”
The last chapter was heart-wrenching - my heart ached - my tears formed. Ernie's final message to Arthur was -- it was truly heartbreaking - like a confession that he had carried all his life. ? That final stage captured the two sides of how these unfortunate events affected them in two completely different ways of how you can either heal from the trauma of your past, or you can allow it to break your spirit, instead. Arthur - who chose to live a life of denial and silence, for the shame of admitting the truth was too great for him to bear, afraid that it would swallow him whole. And Ernie - whose actions of trying to speak up in his defense, cost him so much greater than what he thought - the revile and disgust of his own participation in taking advantage of another's poverty and desperation - "the predator always knows who is unprotected. Children are so gullible, and impressionable, and easily manipulated. watching other innocent lives get lost to the darkness' - whilst his own guilty conscience tears him up inside.
The author states 'they travel the same road but to vastly different destinations. How is one boy engulfed, whereas the other is able to find a path out the other side of profound childhood trauma?' Can one escape it? What could have happened if their paths could have crossed again? If someone could have just loved them and been a shoulder for them to lean on - a sanctuary that existed beyond the walls of where one is expected to be safe? ?? Perhaps things could have turned out differently if Arthur had supported Ernie, when he pleaded with him to stand by him? I can't blame one over the other. They both chose the way they knew best - from their own personal experiences - of how to cope with what was stolen from them. I wish more than anything they could have met each other again - could have reconciled - could have had a chance to overturn what had broken between them and find it in their hearts to forgive each other and themselves.
“In my endless search for answers to an attic full of questions, I later understood that Poe’s “The Raven,” despite the spookiness, speaks of never being able to get out from underneath grief. That was the undeniable awfulness.”
There's a lot more I wish to talk about, but I think I've drained all that I could right now - to me, a life lost is the worst imaginable thing. I know you must be wondering why I continue to be drawn to such bleak books like this - and the truth is - I want the characters to survive - to triumph over the adversity that they've been put through - to believe that there is a shining light for all the hardship and pain they've endured. Sometimes I get lucky with a happy ending; sometimes - I don't. ? The selected quotes included at the story's intro are so aptly chosen, that re-reading them afterwards hurts me even more. For it breaks my heart that a character could not escape what they experienced. It hurts even more knowing that such darkness really exists, and we are powerless to stop these heinous crimes from happening - only unless we have the courage and the strength to fight up against these transgressions that are taking place under the manipulative guise of something else entirely - to protect those who can't speak for themselves, is there a hope for change. ?
I know it is not something everyone would feel comfortable reading, and I understand that. People read to escape reality; I think I read to see that very reality we're running from - find a way to escape from it; if that makes any sense. One day I will write a short review that will surprise everyone that I can, in fact, write short reviews as I used to before. That day hasn't come yet, but, maybe - one day. Writing out lengthy thoughts is my cathartic way of processing all those emotions that I felt while reading, especially when it is one as gripping and emotional as what I just read. An important and complex story that definitely is not for everyone, but one I will not so very easily forget.
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