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Concluding the Gladers’ adventures following on from The Maze Runner and The Scorch Trials, The Death Cure sees Thomas, Minho and Newt take on WCKD one last time, as we find out more of the reasons behind their actions and whether the world and its survivors can find a cure to the disease that has taken over it.
There are some good sci-fi elements to the story as a handful of things are revealed, but much of what we are told needed a lot more detail and attention as there’s still a lot left unanswered and explored. The problem is that boys don’t seem to be bothered about saving the world, only about getting themselves free. They could be the cure – actually, Thomas IS the cure and he could have saved Newt – but even these facts aren’t enough. Instead, the book tries to make us believe that WCKD are the bad guys. Sure, they have put the group through some unnecessary torture and there’s a lot to dislike about them, but shouldn’t we be wanting these characters to sacrifice themselves for the greater good? There could have been ways for the good people in WCKD to win over or some other way to get around this but, instead, the story seems to get lost in itself a little, as Dashner gets caught up in the action and avoids the more mature themes that could have been central to this finale.
Despite the story being centred around the three boys left wanting to rescue their friends, the relationships feel underdeveloped in this third book. The three boys leading the story are all quite selfish and lack the comradeship they had back in the Glade. We aren’t cheering them on because we don’t know what they are fighting for in the end, and we aren’t even cheering on for the world to be saved because that goes against everything the boys are doing. So what is the purpose of it all? Would we be happy enough if Thomas was the only survivor if it meant that he didn’t have to give himself up?
The relationships between Thomas and Brenda/Teresa are largely ignored, too. This romance has gotten in the way since the beginning and have still been brushed upon quite often in this instalment, but it felt like Dashner didn’t want to see through what he started. This is just another thing that wasn’t explored to its full potential. I definitely didn’t want the romance to take too much of a focus, but it could have made some of the scenes more emotional if these characters’ feelings were made more obvious.
Instead of being an empowering dystopia or an exhilarating sci-fi that we all hoped this franchise would become, this final book is merely a decent action story with some themes of horror that would only really suit a teenage boy. For a younger audience, it is quite adventurous, terrifying, and exciting, but it is also quite violent and there are a lot of deaths. It’s just as fast paced as the first two books, but the story this time around doesn’t allow for as much suspense and, therefore, doesn’t have the impact of similar young adult dystopias to suit an older or larger audience, despite how well the franchise started off.
What the book does do well, however, is bring everyone together at the end as they re-enter the Maze for one last rescue mission. It was great to revisit a lot of what we were introduced to in the first book, it’s just a shame that so much of the Maze’s relevance is lost in the middle.
There are some good sci-fi elements to the story as a handful of things are revealed, but much of what we are told needed a lot more detail and attention as there’s still a lot left unanswered and explored. The problem is that boys don’t seem to be bothered about saving the world, only about getting themselves free. They could be the cure – actually, Thomas IS the cure and he could have saved Newt – but even these facts aren’t enough. Instead, the book tries to make us believe that WCKD are the bad guys. Sure, they have put the group through some unnecessary torture and there’s a lot to dislike about them, but shouldn’t we be wanting these characters to sacrifice themselves for the greater good? There could have been ways for the good people in WCKD to win over or some other way to get around this but, instead, the story seems to get lost in itself a little, as Dashner gets caught up in the action and avoids the more mature themes that could have been central to this finale.
Despite the story being centred around the three boys left wanting to rescue their friends, the relationships feel underdeveloped in this third book. The three boys leading the story are all quite selfish and lack the comradeship they had back in the Glade. We aren’t cheering them on because we don’t know what they are fighting for in the end, and we aren’t even cheering on for the world to be saved because that goes against everything the boys are doing. So what is the purpose of it all? Would we be happy enough if Thomas was the only survivor if it meant that he didn’t have to give himself up?
The relationships between Thomas and Brenda/Teresa are largely ignored, too. This romance has gotten in the way since the beginning and have still been brushed upon quite often in this instalment, but it felt like Dashner didn’t want to see through what he started. This is just another thing that wasn’t explored to its full potential. I definitely didn’t want the romance to take too much of a focus, but it could have made some of the scenes more emotional if these characters’ feelings were made more obvious.
Instead of being an empowering dystopia or an exhilarating sci-fi that we all hoped this franchise would become, this final book is merely a decent action story with some themes of horror that would only really suit a teenage boy. For a younger audience, it is quite adventurous, terrifying, and exciting, but it is also quite violent and there are a lot of deaths. It’s just as fast paced as the first two books, but the story this time around doesn’t allow for as much suspense and, therefore, doesn’t have the impact of similar young adult dystopias to suit an older or larger audience, despite how well the franchise started off.
What the book does do well, however, is bring everyone together at the end as they re-enter the Maze for one last rescue mission. It was great to revisit a lot of what we were introduced to in the first book, it’s just a shame that so much of the Maze’s relevance is lost in the middle.
The title of Barne’s best-selling book is borrowed from a book of the same name by Frank Kermode, that’s aim was to make sense of the ways we try to make sense of our lives. The Sense Of An Ending follows similar footsteps as it explores the concept of how we can remember our pasts differently and how one person’s understanding of a situation isn’t always the whole picture.
Looking at how characters develop over time, this book can teach us all a lot about how we treat other people when we don’t know all of the circumstances. Barne’s writing is genius, really making you reflect on your own life and at how you can learn from Tony’s mistakes to better yourself. We’ve all done things that we regret, but what The Sense Of An Ending does is show you that we’ve all been there.
“Again, I must stress that this is my reading now of what happened then. Or rather, my memory now of my reading then of what was happening at the time.”
Highlighting themes of reliability and truthfulness and looking at how age can affect our memories, the book looks at how we can forget about the good days when thinking about bad people and events, and how hindsight can change your perspective on everything.
It’s a really interesting narrative that is beautifully written. We can all look back on hard times and remember the worst of things, but it’s not until you’ve been given all of the insight that you can understand something fully; that you can truly tell a story from the beginning to make sense of its ending.
“What you end up remembering isn’t always the same as what you have witnessed.”
However, whilst I took a lot away from the messages in the story, I wasn’t particularly invested in the story or characters. It’s definitely a slow burn of a book, although it is also very short and readable, which is what makes it so easy to take a lot away from.
There are definitely two sides to the story, however. One that feels very straightforward, and another that is so much more.
Looking at how characters develop over time, this book can teach us all a lot about how we treat other people when we don’t know all of the circumstances. Barne’s writing is genius, really making you reflect on your own life and at how you can learn from Tony’s mistakes to better yourself. We’ve all done things that we regret, but what The Sense Of An Ending does is show you that we’ve all been there.
“Again, I must stress that this is my reading now of what happened then. Or rather, my memory now of my reading then of what was happening at the time.”
Highlighting themes of reliability and truthfulness and looking at how age can affect our memories, the book looks at how we can forget about the good days when thinking about bad people and events, and how hindsight can change your perspective on everything.
It’s a really interesting narrative that is beautifully written. We can all look back on hard times and remember the worst of things, but it’s not until you’ve been given all of the insight that you can understand something fully; that you can truly tell a story from the beginning to make sense of its ending.
“What you end up remembering isn’t always the same as what you have witnessed.”
However, whilst I took a lot away from the messages in the story, I wasn’t particularly invested in the story or characters. It’s definitely a slow burn of a book, although it is also very short and readable, which is what makes it so easy to take a lot away from.
There are definitely two sides to the story, however. One that feels very straightforward, and another that is so much more.
Told in the first person by Patrick Bateman, American Pyscho is a detailed narrative account of the repetitiveness of everyday life – from getting dressed in the morning, to going to work, to eating out and aimlessly getting through they year – combined with intensely detailed scenes of sex, torture, and murder.
Beginning as a repetitive sequence of Bateman’s outings with his colleagues at new and ‘hip’ restaurants and clubs, meeting ‘hard body’ girls, snorting coke in the toilets, talking about designer clothes and the celebrities they bump into, returning to work the next day only to see who can afford the better-designed business card, we are soon interrupted by episodes of psychopathic violence.
And when I say violence, I don’t mean your typical slasher splurges; American Pyscho goes all out as one of the most disturbing books I have ever read. Yet somehow, Ellis manages to get away with the lengths that he goes to with his leading character.
On one hand, Bateman is your everyday Wall Street guy – he’s materialistic, vain, and far too rich for his own good – but, on the other hand, he likes to violently mutilate and kill anybody that gets on the wrong side of him. Because of this, instead of coming across as a pompous idiot, Bateman comes across as somehow admirable.
I don’t know how Ellis did it, but readers love Patrick Bateman. The way he goes about his life is only the beginning of the ongoing joke; he gets other people confused and is often mistaken for others himself because everybody blends in as one. We all feel, at times, that we do the same thing every day, that we have the same jobs and same hobbies, and follow the same fashions and eat the same food, blah blah blah. But Bateman does something about it.
And you do have to laugh, because if you didn’t read American Pyscho as a very, very, VERY black comedy, then you would be seriously worried about what’s going on in Ellis’ mind. It helps that Bateman is so likeable, as you do find yourself laughing at and almost praising his mindset, even if you’re completely repulsed by him only a few minutes later.
But because of this repetitiveness and extensive detail, American Pyscho can be a hard read at times. With Bateman constantly name dropping brands of clothing by detailing what/who people are wearing every time he bumps into somebody, and whole chapters dedicated to his new favourite artist, the length of some paragraphs, which can often go on for more than a page, is an initial shock. But as you make your way through it and get past the occasionally difficult chapters, American Pyscho isn’t as much hard work as you would first think, and is easy to fly through by the end as you become more and more invested in Bateman’s character.
And then comes the massive twist at the end, which means that the book can be interpreted in many different ways. Should we be glad that it was all in his head? Or should we be worried that, if he did really kill all of those people, he got away with it because nobody cared enough?
It’s not often that we can enjoy such an unreliable narrator, as it can be difficult to know where to place our trust, which is usually all we want from the person telling the story, but Bateman’s unreliability makes this book even more enjoyable.
American Pyscho certainly isn’t for everybody, and it will shock even those who like a good murder mystery with some outright disturbing descriptions and many uses of the C-bomb and F-word, and every letter in between, but if you feel like you need something completely messed up to help you make sense of the world, then this is what you need to be reading.
Beginning as a repetitive sequence of Bateman’s outings with his colleagues at new and ‘hip’ restaurants and clubs, meeting ‘hard body’ girls, snorting coke in the toilets, talking about designer clothes and the celebrities they bump into, returning to work the next day only to see who can afford the better-designed business card, we are soon interrupted by episodes of psychopathic violence.
And when I say violence, I don’t mean your typical slasher splurges; American Pyscho goes all out as one of the most disturbing books I have ever read. Yet somehow, Ellis manages to get away with the lengths that he goes to with his leading character.
On one hand, Bateman is your everyday Wall Street guy – he’s materialistic, vain, and far too rich for his own good – but, on the other hand, he likes to violently mutilate and kill anybody that gets on the wrong side of him. Because of this, instead of coming across as a pompous idiot, Bateman comes across as somehow admirable.
I don’t know how Ellis did it, but readers love Patrick Bateman. The way he goes about his life is only the beginning of the ongoing joke; he gets other people confused and is often mistaken for others himself because everybody blends in as one. We all feel, at times, that we do the same thing every day, that we have the same jobs and same hobbies, and follow the same fashions and eat the same food, blah blah blah. But Bateman does something about it.
And you do have to laugh, because if you didn’t read American Pyscho as a very, very, VERY black comedy, then you would be seriously worried about what’s going on in Ellis’ mind. It helps that Bateman is so likeable, as you do find yourself laughing at and almost praising his mindset, even if you’re completely repulsed by him only a few minutes later.
But because of this repetitiveness and extensive detail, American Pyscho can be a hard read at times. With Bateman constantly name dropping brands of clothing by detailing what/who people are wearing every time he bumps into somebody, and whole chapters dedicated to his new favourite artist, the length of some paragraphs, which can often go on for more than a page, is an initial shock. But as you make your way through it and get past the occasionally difficult chapters, American Pyscho isn’t as much hard work as you would first think, and is easy to fly through by the end as you become more and more invested in Bateman’s character.
And then comes the massive twist at the end, which means that the book can be interpreted in many different ways. Should we be glad that it was all in his head? Or should we be worried that, if he did really kill all of those people, he got away with it because nobody cared enough?
It’s not often that we can enjoy such an unreliable narrator, as it can be difficult to know where to place our trust, which is usually all we want from the person telling the story, but Bateman’s unreliability makes this book even more enjoyable.
American Pyscho certainly isn’t for everybody, and it will shock even those who like a good murder mystery with some outright disturbing descriptions and many uses of the C-bomb and F-word, and every letter in between, but if you feel like you need something completely messed up to help you make sense of the world, then this is what you need to be reading.
Written 30 years ago now, Diana Wynne Jones creates an old-fashioned kind of fantasy full of adventure. With wizards, demons, magic spells, and moving castles, Howl’s Moving Castle is an original and imaginative story that certainly takes you on a journey or two.
Whilst not a familiar fairy tale, the story of Sophie and Howl very much feels like one at times with its emphasis on morals and exploration of relationships but, on the other hand, it also feels much more adult, being filled with a lot of humour, brilliantly complex characters, and many secrets to be revealed.
Not technically a book for adults, Howl’s Moving Castle is more of a young adult novel, written long before young adult fiction became so popular. It’s quite an innocent story, with Howl and Sophie’s relationship developing quite quickly but, most of all, the focus of the book is on how Sophie feels about herself, which is an important subject for young girls in any decade.
Sophie thinks she’s doomed to fail because she’s the oldest of three, and feels like she doesn’t compare to her more talented and beautiful sisters; so when the Witch turns her into an old woman, she finds it quite fitting and almost accepts her new appearance straight away. It’s not until the end when Sophie realises that it’s about what she can do that defines her, not the qualities of those around her.
It is quite inspiring, but it’s also quite basic at the same time. Regarding her relationship with Howl, too, there’s not a lot of development or emotional investment, just a sweet happy-ever-after, so older readers may have some issues with it.
That being said, I enjoyed it thoroughly, and I can’t wait to read it to my own children. For me, what this book is really about is fantasy and magic, and that’s what I found so enchanting about it. It’s not often you can delve so easily into a fantasy book and feel part of the world that has been created, but that’s definitely what Howl’s Moving Castle does.
Whilst not a familiar fairy tale, the story of Sophie and Howl very much feels like one at times with its emphasis on morals and exploration of relationships but, on the other hand, it also feels much more adult, being filled with a lot of humour, brilliantly complex characters, and many secrets to be revealed.
Not technically a book for adults, Howl’s Moving Castle is more of a young adult novel, written long before young adult fiction became so popular. It’s quite an innocent story, with Howl and Sophie’s relationship developing quite quickly but, most of all, the focus of the book is on how Sophie feels about herself, which is an important subject for young girls in any decade.
Sophie thinks she’s doomed to fail because she’s the oldest of three, and feels like she doesn’t compare to her more talented and beautiful sisters; so when the Witch turns her into an old woman, she finds it quite fitting and almost accepts her new appearance straight away. It’s not until the end when Sophie realises that it’s about what she can do that defines her, not the qualities of those around her.
It is quite inspiring, but it’s also quite basic at the same time. Regarding her relationship with Howl, too, there’s not a lot of development or emotional investment, just a sweet happy-ever-after, so older readers may have some issues with it.
That being said, I enjoyed it thoroughly, and I can’t wait to read it to my own children. For me, what this book is really about is fantasy and magic, and that’s what I found so enchanting about it. It’s not often you can delve so easily into a fantasy book and feel part of the world that has been created, but that’s definitely what Howl’s Moving Castle does.
We all love zombie films and stories, but handling the genre successfully is another matter. It’s hard to find a new spin on such popular genres these days when premises around zombies, vampires, and dystopian futures (to name a few) are so largely recycled. But that’s exactly what The Girl with All the Gifts manages to do.
Quite ambiguous in its premise at the start, it takes the story a while to open up for us to really understand what kind of future we are a part of and whose side we should be taking. What The Girl with All the Gifts does differently is that we don’t know whether our central character is a protagonist or antagonist, and the world could very easily come to an end at any point.
Not only is The Girl with All the Gifts a terrifying dystopian future, but it makes you question what you would do if you were to find yourself in a similarly life-threatening situation. And then it even makes you reevaluate that.
Where do our alliances fall? Would the end of the world really be the best thing for our fallen civilisation? Or should we feel obliged to stand up for humanity anyway?
Often I found myself thinking that I should be on the side of Dr Caldwell and her team of scientists, wanting to find a cure to this bizarre disease and save humanity. But that’s hard to do when the character you find yourself closest to is a young, naive girl who loves learning and reading, but who may also be the enemy. Then again, she may also be the only person who can save the world, even if that means going against everything you have believed to be right.
With four very different main characters, you find yourself siding with each of them at one point or another, which is what makes this book such a gripping read. Not only is there a lot of action and gore, with numerous twists in plot to keep you guessing how it’s going to progress, but it’s these characters that will make you think that maybe the end of the world could be an experience worth having, and their human qualities that give such a personal touch to a premise we know all too well.
The book does start off a little awkwardly, as we become aware of some kind of relationship forming between Melanie and Miss Justineau, which I didn’t know what to think of at first. Melanie often confesses her love for Miss Justineau, but it’s difficult to understand what kind of emotions Melanie is feeling since we’re not really sure who or what she is at this point in time, or whether she can feel emotions like love at all. The context of her background and their relationship is yet to be filled in, so Melanie’s desperation does come across uncomfortably in these opening chapters, although it doesn’t take long for this confusing relationship to become clearer, as we see more of their mother/daughter relationship blossom.
But, whilst the central character is a young girl and there are some young adult themes in place with Melanie trying to discover who she is, there is also a lot of maturity in Carey’s writing and in the way he describes these character’s situations. There are numerous moments that hit quite hard which make you think “Oh wait, maybe this isn’t a story for younger readers”, with the use of swearing, gory detail, and sexual references, and it’s these short and infrequent breaks in regularity that keep the suspense high.
The story even details this zombie outbreak in a way that makes it almost seem possible, detailing a mutant version of the fungus Ophiocordyceps unilateralis — the parasite behind “zombie ants”. If that’s not enough to scare you a little, then reading about how this disease so easily infected the whole world may conjure up some scary images for you.
Don’t let the central character’s age fool you, because this is very easily a story that could haunt younger readers so, if you like zombie stories, then this is definitely a book that you need to read.
Quite ambiguous in its premise at the start, it takes the story a while to open up for us to really understand what kind of future we are a part of and whose side we should be taking. What The Girl with All the Gifts does differently is that we don’t know whether our central character is a protagonist or antagonist, and the world could very easily come to an end at any point.
Not only is The Girl with All the Gifts a terrifying dystopian future, but it makes you question what you would do if you were to find yourself in a similarly life-threatening situation. And then it even makes you reevaluate that.
Where do our alliances fall? Would the end of the world really be the best thing for our fallen civilisation? Or should we feel obliged to stand up for humanity anyway?
Often I found myself thinking that I should be on the side of Dr Caldwell and her team of scientists, wanting to find a cure to this bizarre disease and save humanity. But that’s hard to do when the character you find yourself closest to is a young, naive girl who loves learning and reading, but who may also be the enemy. Then again, she may also be the only person who can save the world, even if that means going against everything you have believed to be right.
With four very different main characters, you find yourself siding with each of them at one point or another, which is what makes this book such a gripping read. Not only is there a lot of action and gore, with numerous twists in plot to keep you guessing how it’s going to progress, but it’s these characters that will make you think that maybe the end of the world could be an experience worth having, and their human qualities that give such a personal touch to a premise we know all too well.
The book does start off a little awkwardly, as we become aware of some kind of relationship forming between Melanie and Miss Justineau, which I didn’t know what to think of at first. Melanie often confesses her love for Miss Justineau, but it’s difficult to understand what kind of emotions Melanie is feeling since we’re not really sure who or what she is at this point in time, or whether she can feel emotions like love at all. The context of her background and their relationship is yet to be filled in, so Melanie’s desperation does come across uncomfortably in these opening chapters, although it doesn’t take long for this confusing relationship to become clearer, as we see more of their mother/daughter relationship blossom.
But, whilst the central character is a young girl and there are some young adult themes in place with Melanie trying to discover who she is, there is also a lot of maturity in Carey’s writing and in the way he describes these character’s situations. There are numerous moments that hit quite hard which make you think “Oh wait, maybe this isn’t a story for younger readers”, with the use of swearing, gory detail, and sexual references, and it’s these short and infrequent breaks in regularity that keep the suspense high.
The story even details this zombie outbreak in a way that makes it almost seem possible, detailing a mutant version of the fungus Ophiocordyceps unilateralis — the parasite behind “zombie ants”. If that’s not enough to scare you a little, then reading about how this disease so easily infected the whole world may conjure up some scary images for you.
Don’t let the central character’s age fool you, because this is very easily a story that could haunt younger readers so, if you like zombie stories, then this is definitely a book that you need to read.