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If there is something worse than a nightmare it is a recurring nightmare. And in our worst nightmares few produce as much distress as a child disappearing without trace. This is exactly what happens at the outset of this novel: in a mall, in the hustle and bustle of an afternoon out shopping, a predator stealthily chooses the victim he is about to snatch. These few lines, these moments waiting, will be the last moments of peace for the characters of a story for which the usual descriptions, “frenetic”, “impossible to put down”, “surprising”, are no way near sufficient. Carme Chaparra in I’m Not a Monster pushes both her characters and her readers to the limit. Neither them nor you will come out unscathed. Just try it.