My Nostalgia With "They Both Die at the End"

 

In 2021, I read a book called "They Both Die At The End" by Adam Silvera. I didn't remember much about it, other than how it made me feel— and that as an 11 year old, it was my favorite book of all time.

I remember it being the first book I genuinely cried to. I remember its themes were on my mind for days after I had finished it. But why?

I reread it years later to try and remember.

They Both Die at the End, named after the cliche spoiler, is a book that plays on your expectations and hopes from the title. Despite it being said plainly in the name, along with being clear as day in the storyline— your hopes stay strong throughout the entire thing. Maybe they won't die at the end.

The story follows Mateo— a new college student whose father is in a coma and only has one real friend, and Rufus— who recently aged out of the adoption system and is used to fighting for just about everything. There is an app made to be able to tell you when you are going to die, so that you can pass away happily and surrounded by whoever you wish. The catch? It only alerts you the day-of.

Mateo and Rufus both receive this alert on the same day, and despite having never met before, are connected through an app designed for people who would otherwise be alone on their last day. Even though it seems they have almost nothing in common with each other, they most definitely have one thing at the very least— dissatisfaction; with themselves, and with dying so early. With nothing else to be done, they make the most of it with the little time they have left.

Oh, and they both die at the end, by the way.

And while I was reading this book, 2025— this same novel that made me sob just a few short years ago, that permanently changed how I viewed death in its entirety and inspired my writing style that I still use to this day, I thought...

Eh. It's okay.

It isn't bad. It's just... okay.

The pacing could be better, and so could the dialogue and interactions. I knew that it was supposed to be fast paced— after all, that was the point of the entire book. What else can you do when you know you're going to die in less than 24 hours? Still, I believe there were certain topics and plot lines that could have been executed better.

After all this time, it really didn't feel too special to me.

So why was it? What changed?

Because it was still a pretty big step up from Dogman, that's why.

Put it into perspective for a minute. An eleven year old kid, emotionally stunted by the isolation of quarantine and thrown back into public school with the expectation of being completely normal again. During that time, I wasn't given any outlet to stay sane other than the internet— and with unrestricted internet access as an impressionable child, comes a desire for cringe and edginess.

Of course, in my attempts to be edgy, I began to think about death. It was only natural. The only issue was I didn't have much to base my thoughts off of other than the glamorized outlook of it that many others had during the COVID period. I wanted to be cool, too, so I soon adopted that same mindset.

They Both Die at the End woke me up from that mindset, in a strange way. It taught me that death was not some plan-B escape, but rather an actual, serious thing that must be treated with weight. A permanent end to something temporary.

I saw this because Rufus began the book with the exact same thought process I had: "Why would I be scared of death? It happens to everyone, and life sucks anyway." But after spending the day with Mateo— just one, single day, he realizes that he has so much more he wants to do with his life.

And then, before he can, he dies.

As I finished the book for the first time, I had a lot to think about, especially considering it was the first book I'd ever read with genuine weight to it.

He was dead, but I wasn't. I was eleven. I still had so much I wanted to do. It felt like I had learned from his mistakes, even if he wasn't real.

It helped me realize that I wasn't being cool and edgy— I was just being a pessimistic loser.

I ended the book with a newfound optimism I'd never considered before. I felt more appreciative of everyday things, when I would have walked by and not even noticed them before. Even if the writing of the book itself may not be amazing, the book will hold a place in my heart for a very long time. I could still see the inspiration in how I write now when I reread the book, and it inspired a novel that I'm still writing. Despite its flaws, I very much still enjoyed the book, and the nostalgia that came with it.

P.S: The First to Die at the End, written by the same author, is WAY better. I can easily recommend that one much more.

-Livy