My rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars
There are inevitably those indie kids who go on the peculiar adventures, get all the fame and adoration, and tend to end said adventures six feet below where they began. That’s all nice and good, but what happens to you if you’re not a beautiful, talented chunk of wonderful?
Mikey, our ever-so-interesting main character, is not, in fact, a talented chunk of wonderful. He and his wee group of friends are entirely ordinary. He gets to watch as the indie kids parade around with whatever it is they dug up this time and get themselves promptly slaughtered. He’s just trying to make it through his senior year of high school without too much trouble. Unfortunately, trouble seems to take a liking to him and his ever-so-interesting life.
…Or so the blurb claims.
I’ve found that it’s just unfair, the level of skill Patrick Ness has when it comes to writing. He can take something that should be sloppy, boring, and tedious, and somehow turns it into this glob of fantastic.
I’ll be brutally honest in saying there wasn’t much by way of plot in this book. Every now and then, I even found that I was more invested in Satchel’s side story than Mikey’s likely-more-dramatic tale. I’ll also throw in there that I’m ridiculously biased, as a huge fan of the author. I don’t think I would have enjoyed this book as much is not for Mr. Ness’ name plastered on the front in look-it’s-an-author-you-already-love-give-us-your-hard-earned-money font.
Yes, that font. You know the font.
More specifically, your wallet knows the font.
Anywho, there’s a whole sort of doomsday feeling coating the story, which is pretty great, even if it doesn’t effect the characters as much as I might have liked.
They simply repeatedly remark on how the world is ending and how they’re soon to meet their demises, but where’s the fun in that? Psssh. The apocalypse? That’s old news by now.
The characters in this book are fairly well developed, save for a Mr. Nathan, and that is a thing that should be a thing more often than it is, in fact, a thing.
They’re all fleshed out and realistically flawed— as I hear Homo sapiens tend to be— to the point where OPEN YOUR EYES, MIKEY, YOU DULLARD, UGH.
Then again, I admittedly love when books make me scream at them.
Maybe I should stop doing that in public, though— I draw in more strange looks on a daily basis than I care to count.
Ness does swimmingly with creating realistic sibling relationships, which, thank goodness, somebody learned how.
Although The Rest of Us Just Live Here is fairly short, it does not feel that way one bit. It really drags on and on and on and when will this end and can I just re-read A Monster Calls instead and this is the most boring thing and come on, Ness, stay with me here.
I feel asleep a good nine and a half times while suffering through this novel.
At this point in my review, I genuinely have nothing left to say.
If you like exciting books, shoo.
If you like a good old Patrick Ness masterpiece, shoo.
If you like inflicting uneventful plots onto your enemies as you keep them awake to intensify their discomfort… I’d recommend this book.