Alex Broccoli is a ten-year-old boy. He lives alone with his mum, Cindy. His mum is frequently suicidal. Alex has a social worker, called Michael, who fights his corner. Alex also keeps the company of demons.
On the day his dad disappears, Alex begins to interact the mysterious ‘Ruen;’ a demon who appears in many forms including a boy, the old man, and a grotesque devil with horns. Ruen introduces Alex to other demons, and is incredibly knowledgeable about the past and present, recounting facts and stories that Alex would unlikely have access to. It is this conflict that makes the story so engaging. Ruen does not seem to be a complete figment of Alex’s imagination. At times, the story is quite chilling, for this reason.
Alex is assigned a psychiatrist, Anya, whose mission is to establish the best course of action to take, and the facts about Alex’s circumstances. Anya’s daughter, Poppy, tragically died as a result of what Anya believes to have been childhood schizophrenia. Thus, Anya’s determination to help Alex is informed by a desire to save a child, because her own child could not be saved:
ALEX
‘I could tell Ruen was in the room because I was colder than frozen sausages even though it was May, and sometimes he does that. All the hairs on my arms were standing upright. I said, ‘What is it now, you creep?’
He took a step out of the shadow beside the window and said, ‘I want you to tell Anya all about me.’
…And for some reason I thought of my dad just then. I saw his face in my head, all blurry, his eyes blue just like mine, Mum said. Then I saw the policeman, his face turning towards me in slow motion, angry and scared at the same time.’
ANYA
‘Patients claiming to see demons are not entirely out of the ordinary, but Alex’s case strikes me as unusual. He claimed that a demon was his best friend. And he seemed to know about Poppy. At the very least, a ten-year-old with such powers of perception is extremely rare.’
The novel is set against the backdrop of Northern Ireland after The Troubles. It is an important exploration of intergenerational trauma, and the impacts of such horrific events on a new generation of young people.
The narrative is a two-hander, told from the points of view of Alex, and of Anya. It is an interesting choice to tell the story from the perspective of the child, because it is not an easy feat. Adding the perspective of Alex's psychiatrist, Anya, creates an interesting tension – not only from a patient/ therapist dynamic, but also from a child/ adult viewpoint. The contrasting accounts allow for the differences of perception to be accentuated, for the reader to gain insight into both, and for some misunderstandings to be highlighted.
The reader must also question the reliability of each narrator, as we are presented with events from each side. One of these is the simple spelling of the name of Alex’s demon, Ruen. Anya hears Alex speak the word, and assumes it to be ‘Ruin’, which is then documented in his notes. A simple error, but one that speaks volumes about the frequent inability of adults to accurately document the voice of the child.
The theme of shame also prevails in the story. Alex is marked as different from his peers due to his mother’s poor mental health. This is a theme that stuck a chord with me personally, growing up with a bipolar parent, and the whispers and rumours that come with having what is perceived as a ‘mad’ family member:
ALEX
'I’ve been sent back to school, which hasn’t been good because all the other kids seem to have heard about Mum and they’re starting to make up stories, like she’s loony and I tried to kill her, or she tried to kill me then herself. When Auntie Bev picks me up at the front gates all the other parents look at me and smile but really, they are talking and saying horrible things about Mum.'
Alex also highlights the huge burden carried by a child with a suicidal parent. He cares deeply for his mum, that is apparent, and yet he has to experience the terror of knowing that he might lose her permanently at any time. He takes on responsibility for her survival, which must weigh heavily.
ALEX
‘And then I noticed some boxes under the duvet covers. I knew what they were for because I was with Mum when she picked them up from the doctor’s. All the pills were gone and I felt funny, like scared. Then Mum started coughing and I felt my heart pound because I was glad, she made a noise. ‘Have you woke up now?’ I said, but she just leaned across and puked all over my feet.’
The Knock had the potential to create this situation for my children, as both of their parents had suicidal ideation. In fact, beyond that, their father had made a plan at one point and unbeknownst to anyone, so had I.
There is also a tension running through the story between social work and psychiatry. Anya desires for Alex to be committed to a facility for children, MacNeice House, which Michael strongly opposes, having seen the snowball effect of children being removed from their home and birth family, and never being returned. He fights Alex’s corner fiercely, whilst at the same time developing something of a bond with Anya.
Michael believes that the best place for a child is to be supported to remain at home with their family, or, failing that, with the closest available family. Alex’s grandmother is no longer alive, so his aunt Bev, (Cindy’s sister), is brought into the story as the events progress. Bev develops a strong attachment to Alex, and the reader is reassured that someone else is there to defend the child:
MICHAEL
‘Anya, this is Michael, Alex’s social worker. He works for the local authority.’
Michael turned and flashed a crooked smile’ ‘Yes’, he said. ‘Someone has to.’
ANYA
‘He eyed me with a degree of nervousness, a hint of pleading. This boy meant a lot to him. Not just professionally, either – I saw that Michael had become personally involved in this case. I perceived he had a touch of the hero complex about him – the weathered, tired air was a result of his frustrations. After a long pause he broke into a smile, before pouring himself a mugful of my nettle tea and necking it with a prolonged shudder of disgust.’
ANYA
‘I should have realised it sooner – Michael perceives me as the enemy. He wants me close so he can have a better chance of keeping Alex out of – Michael’s terms – the ‘nuthouse.’ And I suppose that it is in this respect that Michael and I share a common goal – despite myself I have bonded with this child, sensed something very familiar about his predicament, something that lies close to the bone. And I feel I can help him – though it may not be in the way that Michael desires.’
A theme that feels very close to home is the one of poverty. In fact, more than that, unseen poverty, and services not acting to resolve it. Anya visits Alex at home, and observes him eating onions on toast. Whilst there seems to be an acknowledgement of the family’s struggle, there is no exploration by professionals as to how the family can be better supported with food. It is not discussed in multi-agency review meetings ,and seems to just be an accepted fact. Sadly, this was a stark mirror of reality for my children and I, where we struggled to get a referral to a food bank, and the issue of food was on nobody’s agenda:
ALEX
'Mum says she only has sixty quid a week for all the bills, and the way I go through sketchpads and cans of dog food for Woof we’re lucky we don’t have to live on air.
‘Do you know you can buy enough onions for a whole week for less than a quid? I tell Anya, and her face changes. She says, ‘that makes sense.’'
Alex has multiple struggles to contend with, and perhaps if just a few of the daily burdens could be alleviated, the family’s wellbeing might improve. Alex reflects the bleak reality of a child living in the shadow of a suicidal parent’s mental illness, and also the reality of the trauma caused by interventions from services.
The novel highlights the burden on the child when there are so many issues occurring in the household at once, and nobody truly sees what he experiences. He tries to solve the problems in his own way, a common trait of children who experience parental mental illness.
ALEX
‘I think this joke is funnier than the last one about the old woman and the orangutan. I told it to Mum but she didn’t laugh. She is sad again. I have started to ask her why she gets sad, and each time the reason is different. Yesterday it was because the postman was late, and she was waiting for a Really Important Letter from social services. Today, it’s because we’ve run out of eggs.
'So, I do what I always do, which is ignore Mum as she walks around the house with her face all dripping wet, and I hunt through the fridge and kitchen cupboards and under the stairs for something to eat, until I finally find what I’m looking for: an onion and some frozen bread. Unfortunately I don’t find any eggs, which is a pity because it may have made Mum stop crying.’
I recall the shock and anxiety awaiting the next shoe to drop as an expected communication from social services was delayed , or even strategically delivered last thing on a Friday evening, with no option to contact anybody to discuss. I am sharing this review on Bank Holiday weekend to highlight the fact that poverty, trauma and mental illness do not allow a family to have any respite, and many agencies and support services will be closed at these times.
Most people do not 'see' the damage done to families by the invasion of services. Because the harms are unseen, there is usually no attempt to improve the quality of the services. You get the sense of 'well these people are damaged anyway, it can't have been caused by us. We are helping them, and we know more than they do!'
In a similar way, nobody sees the daily harms caused by the temperature of Alex’s house, and the run-down nature of his home. There is little in the way of support, only scrutiny as to whether his mother is fit to care for him:
‘The second best thing in the world is my bedroom. I was going to say drawing skeletons, or balancing on the back legs of my chair, but I think they’re third best, because my bedroom is so high at the top of our house that I don’t hear Mum crying when I come up here, and because it’s where I go to think and to draw, and also to write jokes for my part as Horatio. It’s freezing up here. You could probably store dead bodies. The windowpane is cracked and there’s no carpet and all the radiator does is make a big yellow puddle on the bare floor. Most of the time I put on an extra jumper and sometimes a coat, a hat, woolly socks and gloves when I get up there, though I’ve cut the fingertips off my gloves so I can hold my pencils.’
It reminded me of a time when a social worker called around to our house in 2022. When I read the notes afterwards, she had remarked ‘the house felt cold’, and yet this was not raised with me at any time. No questions were asked. The house was cold because we couldn’t afford to have the heating on. Watching the Smart meter each day was a huge source of anxiety, and as we fell deeper into the cost of living crisis, things worsened, culminating in a broken boiler in the coldest days and nights of winter 2022 with nobody to turn to, as my children and I froze under duvets.
Another social worker, when meeting with me and the children’s father in 2022, grilled us both, simply ‘why don’t you have jobs?’. It was said with judgement, not understanding. Anyone who regularly reads my tweets and blogs will know the challenges we both faced in terms of finding paid work. There was no signposting, no suggestions of support, no suggestions of how to overcome multiple barriers. I shan’t revisit them here because it will trigger another rant. I will, however, explore the topic of unemployment in future.
Alex’s clothing is also a source of misunderstanding. Instead of asking the questions to Alex to help to establish why he wear’s adult male clothing, Anya makes assumptions:
ANYA
‘‘An-ye,’ he repeated. I looked him over briefly. I noticed he had a touch of the street urchin about him; chocolate-brown hair in need of a cut and a good wash; pale, Northern Irish skin: wide denim-blue eyes; a cheeky mushroom nose splattered with fat freckles.
More striking was his dress sense: a man’s oversized shirt with brown stripes, buttoned-up wrong, brown tweed trousers with thick turn-ups at the hems, a man’s tartan tie, and black school shoes that had been carefully polished. Slung over the sofa I spotted a waistcoat and blazer. I wouldn’t have been surprised if I’d spotted a cane and pipe. Alex had clearly been independent for a long time and was trying to be much older than his years. To support his mother, I guessed. I was anxious to work out whether this was a manifestation of another personality, or if he was just plain eccentric. The room filled with the smell of onions.’
In fact, thanks to the dual narrative perspective, the reader already knows the truth. This dramatic irony compounds the sense that the professionals are not quite understanding the extent of Alex’s circumstances:
ALEX
‘The last person who lived here left all their stuff, like a bed with only three legs, a wardrobe, and a tall white chest of drawers which was filled with lots of clothes. The person who left them was probably just lazy but it worked out OK as Mum never has any money to get me any new clothes.’
There is something about being poor that makes people feel unseen. Perhaps because they are. Alex’s mum, Cindy acknowledges their invisibility and articulates so well the feeling of not mattering to anyone. It is almost certain that this, along with the scrutiny from services, has contributed to her declining mental health:
CINDY
‘The council sticks people like us in places like this and forgets about them’ Mum said, and her voice rattled because she was now on her knees rubbing the metal brush up and down and I hated the sound. I drew a picture with my fingertip in the wet glass of the window. Mum stopped to press the towel closer to the bottom of the wall to catch the drips. ‘I mean, it’s not like I want Buckingham Palace. A place that’s not likely to kill us both from live wires might be nice.’ She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. ‘Punishment, that’s what it is.’
Whilst there is no suggestion from professionals for any help with heating Alex’s room or indeed whole house, which would surely make Alex and Cindy’s day-to-day life less uncomfortable, we do see throughout the novel Michael fights to get Cindy and Alex re-housed, understanding the positive difference this will make to both of them. He even manages to pull a few strings behind the scenes at the council, but unfortunately, mimicking the rollercoaster of services experienced by many, the plan to move to a new house is jeopardised.
Alex is uncertain as to the whereabouts of his dad, initially believing him to be dead, due to having misinterpreted a comment by his grandmother, following his father’s disappearance:
ALEX
‘I was sad for a long time when I learned Dad had died. He just vanished one day, right after what happened at the check-point. I never asked Mum if he fell down a mineshaft or got run over or got the disease that Granny had because she was so upset all the time. She just cried and cried one morning and said, ‘Your dad’s gone,’ and I said ‘For how long?’ and she said, ‘For life.’’
It is a source of confusion to Alex that he is told that he is like his dad. He loves his dad, but also wishes to not grow up to be the same:
ALEX
'I bent down and lifted the glass handle from the floor. My mind was playing the image of Mum over and over, her hand on the bed opening loosely like a petal.
You’re so like your dad, Alex. You’re so like your dad.
I knew what Ruen was telling me.'
'I was going to grow up to be just like my dad. And that was a bad thing because my dad was a murderer. I didn’t want to hurt anybody. But I was already doing it. I was hurting me. I was hurting Anya.'
'‘I’m not nothing,’ I told Ruen. ‘I’m Alex. Alexander the Great. And I can be anything I want to be.’'
ANYA
‘I know about your dad.’ I told him softly. ‘I know what he did, Alex. Your father’s acts, Alex – not your father – were evil. You are not your father.
Another contradiction is Alex’s memory of his dad. He struggles to reconcile the memory of the man he knew, with the concept of the man who killed someone:
ALEX
‘I’m confused because when I think of him making the bread rolls dance and then I think of what I saw that day, of Dad shooting those policemen, it just doesn’t make sense. Aren’t evil people evil all the time? Aren’t funny, kind people who bring toy cars for their sons funny and kind all the time?’
ANYA
‘He has invested subconsciously in the self-image as the child of a killer – as an inevitable killer in the making.
He was too young to process the meaning of what he had seen. The media coverage afterwards – newspapers, television reports – would have stirred up negative feelings toward a man he looked up to. A man he loved. His father.’
When Alex subsequently discovers that his father is in prison, it is a bittersweet moment. As I reader, I can appreciate some of the emotions associated with having a loved one in prison. For Alex this is complicated by having believed his father to be dead. So, the notion of prison becomes a relief to him almost. Even more so when he finds out that his dad wants to see him:
ALEX
‘The last time I saw Anya she sat me down and told me some things about my dad that she said I needed to know. She said Dad’s name is Alex Murphy. He was born in 1971, which makes him thirty-five, which is three-point-five times my age, though next month I will be eleven which means he’ll only be three-point-one-eight times older. Anya says he is staying at Magilligan prison, just like Mum told me, so I know Ruen was lying. She said she had been in touch with him and he was really happy that I wanted to see him.’’
Overall, The Boy who Could see Demons provides an excellent exploration of a number of themes. It was not an easy book to read, as someone who has experienced parental mental illness as a child (although thankfully we managed to evade social services at the time, which I am eternally grateful for).
Nonetheless, in some bizarre plot twist, my own (seemingly stable) marriage was suddenly blown apart a few years ago in the fallout of ‘The Knock’, when my children’s father was placed under investigation. This meant that agencies arrived in troops, and we experienced scrutiny like nothing I have ever known. It was actually quite heartening to read about Michael the social worker, who did try to put Alex’s best interests at heart. My children had seven social workers in total, and one really stood out. This person was instrumental in the reunification of my children with their father – something they wished for throughout the process. I am often critical of the response we experienced, because it was hugely traumatic, and to a large extent, unnecessary and costly to both us, and the state– but it’s important to note that there were diamonds in the rough. This novel acknowledges the good and tough work done every day by social workers – although just to add a trigger warning, it doesn’t have a very happy ending.
The backstory of Anya and the death of her daughter, Poppy is heartbreaking. It also shows the drive and determination of a psychiatry professional in wanting to do the best for a child when her own child was failed by services.
The book also offers an insightful exploration of poverty, and how easily it can be accepted as the norm and remain unchallenged. Alex living on onion sandwiches and wearing an old man’s clothing are just facts about his life to the professionals, and they do not make any attempt to signpost the family to support. In the case of Cindy, her mental illness and suicidality prohibits her gaining paid work at the time of the story. It would have been vital for the family to have been connected with better financial support. Although as much as I wish that things had been different for Cindy and Alex, I understand that this is not a fairy story, and reflects real life in so many ways.
In my experience (we have encountered in excess of sixty professionals on our journey – undoubtedly more, I stopped counting a couple of years ago - both statutory services and charity), professionals often stay in one lane, do not look at the bigger picture, pick the parts that they want to focus on, instead of taking a holistic approach to a family.
Possibly, people are simply too busy to look up and around a person’s story, to find out what is available locally – but that approach does not serve families well. This is not the case, of course, for all professionals, but I would say that it has been the case for the vast majority we have encountered.
This is why I speak out so enthusiastically about the importance of a comprehensive approach, of signposting (and not just to one favoured organisation or service, but to whatever (possibly multiple) organisation/s or service/s best meet the need of that family to ensure that they are fully supported). It is vital to ensure that there is joined-up working in order to discover the relevant short and long-term solutions for families, (which will be unique to each family).
Understanding people’s needs and acting to support them is how we create long-term change for us, for our children, for their children, for society. Support is not about simply plugging gaps and ticking boxes. it should be about sustainability, and opportunity.
As for the demons, you the reader must decide. Perhaps these are the demons carried by the children of trauma; perhaps they are borne of poverty; maybe they arise when a parent commits a crime, or possibly, all of the above. Or perhaps, in the worst case for Alex, the demons are real.
My name is Annie Hope. I am a writer with lived experience as a family member of someone who had the Knock. I am a professional writer, and I am able to work with your organisation, charity or with you as an individual in a variety of different ways. Please have a look at my website to find out more.
I also run a free writing group for family members of those who are convicted of sexual offences. You can find out more about the group here. You can find blog posts with free advice about writing and helpful tips in my main blog index here.
You can contact me by email anniehopewriter@gmail.com
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