The Trauma Monster is a gut-wrenching yet hopeful book that weaves together personal memoir, true crime investigation, and trauma therapy insights. Set in Ontario during the 1960s and ’70s, the book begins with the unsolved murder of the author’s childhood crush, Scott Leishman. That loss becomes the starting point for a wider exploration into a series of cold cases that haunted the community and left lingering emotional scars. Through firsthand accounts, interviews, and years of therapeutic work, Dorrington tells the stories of survivors, people who were children during those years and never had a chance to speak. At its heart, the book is about the long reach of trauma, the silence it breeds, and the healing that comes when people feel safe enough to speak.

There’s a raw honesty to Dorrington’s voice that pulled me right in. She doesn’t write from a distance. She’s not an outsider poking around in someone else’s pain. This was her town. These were her friends. She opens herself up on every page, and that openness gives the book its power. The writing is simple, which works here. No need for flowery prose or academic terms. At times, the book left me breathless. She paints the ’60s in vivid detail. The crime scenes aren’t sensationalized, but they do haunt. I kept thinking about the kids who didn’t come home. The way Dorrington connects personal grief with collective trauma is what makes this more than a true crime book.

What surprised me most was how tender it is. For a book about murder and silence and shame, there’s so much care here. Dorrington is a trained trauma therapist, and it shows, not in technical talk, but in how she handles each story with compassion. She gives voice to people who were never asked to speak. Her inclusion of art, storytelling, and even a workbook makes the book not just a record but a tool for healing. I found myself thinking about my own losses, my own unspoken stories. That’s the kind of impact this book has. And still, she doesn’t tie anything up neatly. She’s not pretending these wounds close easily. The monster, as she calls it, never disappears. But it can shrink. It can be drawn, faced, and named.

This book is not just about old murders or sad memories. It’s about witnessing. About telling stories that were hidden too long. I’d recommend The Trauma Monster to anyone who’s been through something hard and is still trying to name it. It’s not an easy read, but it’s a comforting one. If you like true crime with heart, if you’ve felt unseen or unheard, or if you’re trying to heal, then this book is for you.

Pages: 297 | ASIN : B0F7D6SCL8