A gorgeously illustrated middle grade novel / graphic novel hybrid, set in a deliciously gothic world of monsters “An intriguing atmosphere, where the strange and familiar mingle... The power of the story and illustrations give wings to the reader's imagination” — Télérama It all starts when a fascinating travelling circus arrives in a small, peaceful village... The townspeople, eager for excitement, are abuzz with curiosity about the mysterious circus that is rumoured to feature a terrifying monster. That evening, Otto, the narrator, takes his place among the eager crowd inside the dimly lit circus tent. The air crackles with anticipation, and as the curtains slowly part, the audience gasps—but not for the reason they expected. The so-called "monster" on stage is, in fact, a human child. Meanwhile, the onlookers in the crowd are actually monsters—both terrifying and grotesque! Otto, whose face is finally revealed, is also a hairy monster. Little by little, Otto and the human child get to know each other, and change the way they both look at the world. "A tale redolent of classic Ray Bradbury, about a travelling circus in a world where monsters are the norm and humans the “freaks”. Darkly enchanting." —Financial Times , Best Summer Books for Children "Creepy, poetic and profound... a beautifully illustrated book about difference that hooks you like the best of ghost stories, before turning a mirror on its reader and challenging our preconceptions, our fears and our prejudice" —Jason Cockcroft, author of We Were Wolves "In this eerie, long-form picture book, accomplished creator Servant lures familiar themes of otherness, cruelty, and empathy down an eldritch path toward acceptance. Provocative and atmospheric, the unsettling theme and artwork may haunt some readers while enthralling others." —Booklist "The prose reads like poetry, filled with haunting, lyrical language that builds an eerie, immersive tone. Zouliamis’s black-and-white illustrations, rich with shadowy detail, deepen the unsettling atmosphere and enhance the emotional impact... A great middle grade horror novel with evocative illustrations, this title belongs in every library collection." —School Library Journal "An outstanding book that poses questions without didacticism, shocking- but allowing a positive ending." —Books for Keeps , Editor's Choice "Strange, unsettling and yet beautiful, this is a vital children’s read." — Children's Books Ireland "A powerful and visually striking story exploring fear, imagination, and the unknown, from one of France’s most celebrated children’s authors." —The French Institute "I got transported to another world... A middle grade Where The Wild Things Are ." —The Island of Brilliant podcast "I was completely hooked. I literally couldn’t take my eyes off it... A heartwarming tale filled with friendship." —Emaan, age 9, Reading 2 Smile "The story captivates. The illustrations are curious and the combination of novel alongside graphic storytelling gives the whole a thrill unlike any other." —Armadillo Magazine Stéphane Servant is a prizewinning author of novels and graphic novels for children. He lives near Carcassonne, in the south of France. Monsters won France's foremost children's literature award, the Prix Sorcières. Nicolas Zouliamis is an award-winning Belgian illustrator of children's books, whose fantastical style recalls the worlds of Lewis Carroll and Tim Burton. Our village lay at the end of the world. Truly, the end of the world. Beyond it was nothing, apart from the shadow cast by the mountains, a sea of dark mossy trees and lakes as deep as night. The only way to reach our village was by a dusty, back- breaking track. Meaning hardly anyone ever made it there. Sometimes, a blind peddler might pass by selling ointments and potions, or books nibbled at by rats. Sometimes, a few foolhardy walkers strayed this far: it was fun terrifying them, and they were gone in a flash. But it was rare indeed for anyone to venture along the treacherous stony path. Pa, Ma and I lived in the house at the end of the village, by the silent road where only the dust danced. Perhaps that’s why, on the day I was woken by the noise, I knew something unusual was afoot. It sounded like tumbling stones. Except it wasn’t coming from my dreams, or from the house. Although it felt that close. I stood on my bed and pressed my nose against the cold windowpane. Outside, day had yet to fall. That’s when I saw the horse-drawn waggons. Ten of them, painted in every colour imaginable. They were towed by vast beasts with steaming pelts, and their metal-rimmed wheels made the stones on the path explode and scatter. On each waggon was written: ‘THE CIRCUS OF DREAMS’ I ran out of the house. Pa and Ma were already on the terrace. They rubbed their eyes as they watched the convoy: it was as if they too could scarcely believe what they were seeing. ‘What is it?’ I asked my paren