In a very real sense, there are no obvious spoilers in a novel like They Both Die at the End.
Adam Silvera’s achingly beautiful, New York City-set story of two older teenagers who are forced to live an entire life in one after a phone call just after midnight from the unsettlingly-named Death-Cast tells them they are going to die that day, pretty much gives it away in the title.
But while that might seem like game over with the ending already handed to you on the front cover, what happens between those phone calls and the boys’ inevitable deaths is something rapturously and affectingly wonderful.
That’s not to say that you won’t be tense for the duration nor that you will spend much of the book in or near tears, because you most certainly will, but the humanity these two young men, who don’t know each other until an app called Last Friend brings them together on what is known as their End Day, is remarkably broad, deep and profoundly uplifting in ways you don’t even come close to expecting.
Silvera, who writes with a soul-affirming insightfulness and an awareness of how keenly good and bad moments in life, and they don’t get much worse than dying, sit cheek-by-jowl, the two often interlinked in ways that challenge anything other than a nuanced approach to good storytelling.
“I want more time, more lives, and this Rufus Emeterio has already accepted his fate. Maybe he’s suicidal. Suicide can’t be predicted specifically, but the death itself is still foreseen. If he is self-destructive, I shouldn’t be around him—he might actually be the reason I’m about to clock out. But his photo clashes with that theory: he’s smiling and he has welcoming eyes. I’ll chat with him and, if I get a good vibe, he might be the kind of guy whose honesty will make me face myself.
I’m going to reach out. There’s nothing risky about saying hello.” (P. 73)
In an alternate 2017, where being told the day of your death has become an accepted part of daily discourse and dying has become commodified with entertainment such as travel arena dedicated to helping people and their families make as many lasting memories as they can in the shortest time possible, people are no less able to deal with their own demise, or with the loss of a loved one, that they were before.
In that respect, the presence of Death-cast, who arrive at their intel by ways no one understands and which the company will, of course, never reveal, hasn’t really made death easier.
In a real sense, they have almost made it worse since many people now live with a fear every time they go to sleep, that they might awoken by the very worst of calls, told they have less than 24 hours to suck the very last marrow out of the lives and to get full carpe diem with all the energy and passion at their disposal.
Clearly, the intent was a good one to give people the chance to live the very best last day they can but as bookish, near-agoraphobic Mateo Torrez and recently bereaved and uncomfortably angry at the world Rufus Emeterio discover very quickly, there’s a vast gulf between intent and the pressure that comes from making sure they go out with a meaningful bang and not an uneventful whimper.
What makes They Both Die at the End so utterly tender and transformatively lovely in the face of so much death and pressure to have the best End Day you can – yep, even at the end there are unofficial KPIs to meet – is that in the midst of all the panic and emotional upheaval that the day brings, Mateo and Rufus find something definitely magical – each other.
Over the course of a day that sees each other tying up loose ends – Mateo farewelling his father and best friend Lidia, Rufus saying goodbye to his foster siblings known collectively as the Plutos with whom he is super tight – they come to play a pivotal, astonishingly beautiful role in healing each other’s wounds.
In the course of that happening, something quite close and special happens between them, a joining of two souls before death tears them apart – though the hope is always there that will find each other in whatever form the afterlife takes; for all the known elements of death, what comes after remains tantalisingly or frustratingly unknowable and mysterious – that sees them effectively find their soulmate at a time when they need them the most.
You might think that there’s little point in that happening so close to the end of their lives, but Silvera affectingly explores how much it means to both of them to have someone in their corner who not only gets them, they are after all both Deckers at the dying-that-day are known, but with whom they can pour out all the unfinished business and secrets of their souls.
There is a lot to do and talk about but as the clock counts down and the boys encounter moments both silly and serious, coming near to death far more than they are comfortable with, Silvera does an exemplary job of giving each of the characters, together and by themselves, the chance to make their peace with their passing.
“‘I know. But maybe this is how it was always written in stone or the stars or whatever: Two dudes meet. They fall for each other. They die.’ If this is really our truth, I get to punch whatever wall I want. Don’t try to stop me.
‘That’s not our story.’ Mateo squeezes my hands. ‘We’re not dying because of love. We were going to die today, no matter what. You didn’t just keep me alive, you made me live.’ He climbs into my [Rufus] lap, bringing us closer. He hugs me so hard his heart is beating against my chest. I bet he feels mine. ‘Two dudes meet. They fell in love. They lived. That’s our story.’
‘That’s a better story. Ending still needs some work.'” (P. 345)
The remarkable thing about They Both Die at the End is how much vibrant, heartfelt, gorgeous life there is in a book that appears to be so devoted to death.
Again, though, don’t let the title fool you.
This novel is full to the brim with the ecstasy, joy, majesty and beauty of living, and while yes, it takes place against the backdrop of impending death, something it’s impossible to escape from no matter where you are in the story, it paints an evocative picture of how interconnected we all are in life even if we are unaware of those exact links.
In-between the chapters devoted to Mateo and Rufus, Silvera brings in side characters who may appear to have no direct bearing on the End Days of either guy, but who, it turns out, are inextricably linked to their lives and deaths in ways that underscore the wide and expansive tapestry of life.
Filled with some of the most achingly beautiful and painful and joyful moments you will ever find in any novel They Both Die at the End is a perfectly-written triumph that rips your soul in two and knits it back together over and over again, a tender, charming, funny and tear-drenched story of one amazing day in which two lives are forever changed and we come to understand that while death is inevitable, it is the living we do before that that counts, in ways that will take your breath away and make you value every last and precious beat of your heart.