A review by orionmerlin
They Both Die at the End by Adam Silvera

emotional hopeful reflective sad medium-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? Character
  • Strong character development? Yes
  • Loveable characters? It's complicated
  • Diverse cast of characters? Yes
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.0

Characters: 8/10
Honestly, I felt Mateo was the standout here—a nervous little bean who finally blooms. I could practically hear his internal monologue hyperventilating. But Rufus? Oh, Rufus. He often read to me like he was generated by an algorithm that thought teenage boys say “yo” every other sentence. I didn’t hate him, but I found his voice forced enough that I’d occasionally wince and hope nobody was reading over my shoulder. And yeah, I bought into them as people—sort of—but I kept feeling like they were archetypes instead of humans I’d actually recognize if they walked into a coffee shop.  
Atmosphere/Setting: 8/10
This book nailed the bittersweet countdown vibe. I was fully immersed in the feeling that New York had become a giant terminal, everyone waiting for their number to be called. Even if the logic of Death-Cast was shakier than a dollar-store table, the mood worked. Every scene pulsed with urgency—like a 24-hour free trial of living your best life before the universe hit unsubscribe. Sure, it was a little melodramatic, but that’s what I signed up for.  
Writing Style: 8.5/10
Silvera’s prose worked for me—sometimes earnest, sometimes bordering on YA Hallmark, but mostly hitting that sweet spot where I’d underline a sentence and sigh like I was fourteen again. But dear god, Rufus’s slang. Every time he dropped a phrase like “Death-Cast hit me up,” I felt like I was watching a marketing exec try to go viral. Still, the writing carried me along, and Mateo’s voice felt consistently authentic in a way that anchored the story.  
Plot: 7/10
The plot was basically a grab bag of “bucket list but make it sad.” It was fine, but once I realized the whole structure was going to be one vignette after another—no big twists, no hidden subplots—I did start to get a little bored. I kept hoping the stove would sprout sentience and become the true villain (and honestly, it sort of did). The ending felt abrupt, like the narrative tripped over itself trying to wrap up before the timer hit zero.  
Intrigue: 8.5/10
I read this in one sitting, and that counts for something. I was absolutely compelled to see how it would all unravel, even though I knew exactly where it was heading. I kept thinking, maybe the title is lying, right up until the last page punched me in the throat. But after I finished, I realized my engagement was driven more by morbid curiosity than deep emotional investment. I still couldn’t put it down.  
Logic/Relationships: 7/10
Oh boy. If I got a dollar every time I wondered why these two were in love, I could buy them a nice dinner before the reaper came. The romance leapt from “your eyes are nice” to “I love you” in about four hours flat, and no, I don’t care if it’s their last day—that’s still a speedrun. And Death-Cast? Please. The entire system made less sense the longer I thought about it. I just had to decide to stop asking questions if I wanted to enjoy myself.  
Enjoyment: 8.5/10
Did I enjoy it? Absolutely. Did I roll my eyes, snort at the overwrought lines, and occasionally whisper “oh, come on”? Also yes. I wept anyway, because the premise is designed to batter your feelings until you give in. Even when it frustrated me, I couldn’t deny I was invested. I would recommend it, but with a little warning label: This book will manipulate you, and you will probably let it.  
Final Verdict
For me, this was like eating a pint of ice cream after a breakup. I knew it wasn’t high art. I knew it was a little too sweet, a little too cheap, and probably going to give me a headache. But I devoured the whole thing in one sitting and cried about it anyway. 
Adjusted Total Score: 55.5/70 

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