The Monsters We Make – Kali White
Kali White’s “The Monsters We Make” circles around one of Iowa’s most haunting true crime stories – the unsolved paperboy kidnappings of the 1980s, beginning with the disappearance of Johnny Gosch.
It’s a premise charged with local resonance and weight, but the novel never fully meets the complexity of its inspiration. What begins as a chilling, character-driven mystery ultimately settles into something safer: a genre piece that hits its expected marks without cutting much deeper.
Set in 1984 Des Moines, the story opens with the disappearance of Christopher Stewart, a fictional stand-in for Gosch. Twelve-year-old Sammy Cox returns from his own paper route shaken and secretive, while his sister Crystal — a would-be journalist who is a mix of Nancy Drew and Lois Lane — sees an opportunity to leverage the tragedy into a scholarship-winning essay. Meanwhile, Detective Dale Goodkind, haunted by his failure to solve a similar case in a neighboring town, sees a second chance at redemption.
Of the rotating cast, Crystal is the most compelling. She’s determined, perceptive and unlike so many teen characters, not consumed by vanity or self-pity. Her relationship with Sammy is the novel’s emotional anchor: protective, intimate and believable.
Most of the adults, by contrast, feel cut from a familiar mold. Goodkind is the requisite damaged cop. Tina, their mother, is a harried and distracted single parent. Kenny, the predatory ex-boyfriend, plays the kind of transparent creep that doesn’t need three dimensions. The narrative’s reliance on tropes – abused detective, amateur sleuth, red herrings, final twist – flattens the urgency of the real crimes that inspired it.
White does capture the texture of Des Moines well. As someone who lives here, I found the local detail grounding. But outside of regional appeal, the story strains under its own logic. Key plot developments hinge on absurd decisions by adults who should know better, and the ending struggled felt more like narrative fatigue than purposeful ambiguity.
I approached this as a hybrid read/listen, eventually leaning on the audiobook when the story started to drag. Narrator Mia Barron fares well as Crystal, but her interpretations of other characters fall into stock territory, reinforcing the novel’s tendency to gesture at complexity without delivering it.
To White’s credit, she doesn’t sensationalize the crimes. But she also doesn’t probe their emotional or societal aftermath in a meaningful way. For a book so rooted in real trauma, it feels oddly detached. If you’re deeply immersed in this genre or invested in Iowa true crime, it’s a decent diversion. For anyone seeking nuance, emotional insight or literary ambition, it falls short.
Rating (story): 3/5 stars
Rating (narration): 3/5 stars
Format: Hybrid read/listen (personal library)
Dates read: March 30 – April 6, 2025
Multi-tasking: Good to go. The seams of the story are clear, so after you find the rhythm of the narration it is easy to follow along regardless of activity.
