I'm really not sure what I was expecting when I dived into this, but it wasn't what I got. Not necessarily a bad thing. Asma digs into every sort of monster, from ancient Greek and Roman, through the Universal monsters (Frankenstein, Dracula, etc.) to the Jeffrey Dahmers and Charles Mansons of the world.

It's a smart, literary dissection of all the monsters in the world, real or imagined, and he does dig into why we consider these characters as monsters and whether they actually should be considered as such.

Illuminating. ( )

A serious book about a topic that doesn't get always get serious analysis. Asma's historical analysis is interesting: he traces how monsters were thought about in ancient Greek civilization, the medieval epoch, and in more modern times and ably connects their roles to the psychological or theological needs of their societies. In doing so, he provides a neat object lesson in how scientific and medical viewpoints slowly displaced theological interpretations of the world. He also considers the role of monstrosity in two of the schools of thought -- Darwinism and Freudian psychology -- that have done most to shape our modern understanding. He also includes some incisive analysis of monsters in popular film and successfully delves into why the old standbys: zombies, clones, vampires, and Frankenstein-type constructions, still scare us so much. His take on the monsters of the present is less compelling: while he makes a solid argument against transhumanism's attempt to obviate the term "monster," I got the sense that much of the same material could probably be found elsewhere, and that, sadly, goes double for his material on serial killers.

As expected "On Monsters" contains a lot of interesting tidbits, from information about the medieval geography of monsters to a generous selection of images of one-eyed or two-headed fetuses. Readers who pick it up solely for the "ick factor" won't be disappointed. I found it a good book, but not always an exceedingly deep one, although reminded me that I should really read more Greek drama and pick up some Freud. I was also charmed by the author's illustrations, which appear throughout the book. Mr. Asma's probably couldn't make it as a professional illustrator: they sometimes come off as improved versions of what that metalhead you sat next to in algebra doodled in his notebook. Given the subject under discussion, though, that seems oddly appropriate. No doubt Napoleon Dynamite would approve. ( )

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