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A review by lexish00
The Last One by Alexandra Oliva
5.0
{This review is vague but kind of has spoilers, so read at your own risk. I'm mostly comparing Zoo's journey to leaving religion.}
This book began as a reality t.v. show caught in the middle of a pandemic, a quirky idea that caught my interest. By the middle of the book though I realized I was really feeling for Zoo (main character) and I couldn't fully understand why until I read this line:
"If I allow myself to doubt, I'll be lost. I can't doubt."
Then I realized: the main character's journey parallels in many ways a journey out of religion, a journey I took a few years ago and which I think about often.
Even though she is only in the reality show for a few days, it completely alters her worldview, what she considers reality, the "meaning" of events --
"Disappointment thrums through me. I was so certain this moment mattered."
-- the inevitable drawing of the curtain to reveal a happy ending. It's all staged; even if it isn't perfectly staged, there is a goal and there is a master planner. She attributes good things that come to her as having been given to her by someone.
"I must have done something right, something incredible, to earn such a prize. The banner, I think. This is my reward for climbing the downed tree, for bypassing the motel. For being both brave and prudent."
The tv show had set up rules (commandments?!), and as she encounters Brennan out in the world she wonders at how he doesn't follow the rules. Then at some point as the main character gets further away from the show she herself defies the rules, saying simply, "fuck the rules."
It isn't long after disregarding the rules in order to save herself (from a false dilemma she believed was somehow contrived by the master planner), she makes an admission.
"This is my wish, and like all wishes worth making I know it's impossible.
This isn't part of the show.
None of this is part of the show.
Nothing has been part of the show for a long time."
To borrow a term out of ex-Mormonism, her shelf breaks. All the inconsistencies weigh too much and she can't continue believing one reality while another forces itself upon her. Not only that, but it isn't a terrible revelation. It simply is, and she has to shift world views, but it isn't all bad.
"Something within me releases, an almost pleasant untightening; I don't have to explain anymore. I've fought and struggled and strived--and I failed. There's peace in this, in doing all I could have possible done; in failing without being at fault."
Later, after making the discovery, she still finds herself going back. Wondering. Because how could you not wonder once you believed one thing so strongly?
"A ruse, I think. The show, it's all part of --" But no.
"I'm alive, and the world is exactly as it seems."
"I let the blanket fall and told myself it was all a lie, but the only lie was mine. I knew."
I wonder about that part. There is a lot of discussion in the book about how she doesn't know when things changed. This is very similar to leaving religion, where suddenly you realize your experiences as you remember them may not be how they were. Did you really have a spiritual experience or did you just interpret it so to fit your worldview?
"The sky is so bright; I'm searching for a drone. Then understanding reasserts itself, fast and crushing, and Brennan's tugging on my arm with urgency, taking a step. All I can think is maybe I'm wrong again, because I want to be, and I'm confusing myself and I don't know which memories to trust. I'm searching for something concrete and my thoughts settle on a pot... and for a moment the existence of that half-full pot is the only thing in my recent memory that I know to be true."
At some point she lets go.
"There is no why, no because. All there is is is."
And it isn't that she doesn't see the point and comfort of the past, of belief. But once you have confronted a belief so fundamental it is hard to renew faith in another.
"But I wish for it. I wish I could pray, find solace. I wish I could believe that you were still you, more than atoms, watching from above. But I'm done with pretending, with lies and wishful thinking."
It isn't until pretty close to the end, when things really look up and hope is renewed, that she gives up a physical token of her time of belief. She has been carrying around the mic for the whole journey, the dead mic. And without it she can lenses to see better. Without the weight of that thing which had covered her eyes symbolically she can literally see.
It's not a perfect analogy, but comes pretty damn close for a large chunk in the middle and as an ex-Mormon it really resonated with me.
This book began as a reality t.v. show caught in the middle of a pandemic, a quirky idea that caught my interest. By the middle of the book though I realized I was really feeling for Zoo (main character) and I couldn't fully understand why until I read this line:
"If I allow myself to doubt, I'll be lost. I can't doubt."
Then I realized: the main character's journey parallels in many ways a journey out of religion, a journey I took a few years ago and which I think about often.
Even though she is only in the reality show for a few days, it completely alters her worldview, what she considers reality, the "meaning" of events --
"Disappointment thrums through me. I was so certain this moment mattered."
-- the inevitable drawing of the curtain to reveal a happy ending. It's all staged; even if it isn't perfectly staged, there is a goal and there is a master planner. She attributes good things that come to her as having been given to her by someone.
"I must have done something right, something incredible, to earn such a prize. The banner, I think. This is my reward for climbing the downed tree, for bypassing the motel. For being both brave and prudent."
The tv show had set up rules (commandments?!), and as she encounters Brennan out in the world she wonders at how he doesn't follow the rules. Then at some point as the main character gets further away from the show she herself defies the rules, saying simply, "fuck the rules."
It isn't long after disregarding the rules in order to save herself (from a false dilemma she believed was somehow contrived by the master planner), she makes an admission.
"This is my wish, and like all wishes worth making I know it's impossible.
This isn't part of the show.
None of this is part of the show.
Nothing has been part of the show for a long time."
To borrow a term out of ex-Mormonism, her shelf breaks. All the inconsistencies weigh too much and she can't continue believing one reality while another forces itself upon her. Not only that, but it isn't a terrible revelation. It simply is, and she has to shift world views, but it isn't all bad.
"Something within me releases, an almost pleasant untightening; I don't have to explain anymore. I've fought and struggled and strived--and I failed. There's peace in this, in doing all I could have possible done; in failing without being at fault."
Later, after making the discovery, she still finds herself going back. Wondering. Because how could you not wonder once you believed one thing so strongly?
"A ruse, I think. The show, it's all part of --" But no.
"I'm alive, and the world is exactly as it seems."
"I let the blanket fall and told myself it was all a lie, but the only lie was mine. I knew."
I wonder about that part. There is a lot of discussion in the book about how she doesn't know when things changed. This is very similar to leaving religion, where suddenly you realize your experiences as you remember them may not be how they were. Did you really have a spiritual experience or did you just interpret it so to fit your worldview?
"The sky is so bright; I'm searching for a drone. Then understanding reasserts itself, fast and crushing, and Brennan's tugging on my arm with urgency, taking a step. All I can think is maybe I'm wrong again, because I want to be, and I'm confusing myself and I don't know which memories to trust. I'm searching for something concrete and my thoughts settle on a pot... and for a moment the existence of that half-full pot is the only thing in my recent memory that I know to be true."
At some point she lets go.
"There is no why, no because. All there is is is."
And it isn't that she doesn't see the point and comfort of the past, of belief. But once you have confronted a belief so fundamental it is hard to renew faith in another.
"But I wish for it. I wish I could pray, find solace. I wish I could believe that you were still you, more than atoms, watching from above. But I'm done with pretending, with lies and wishful thinking."
It isn't until pretty close to the end, when things really look up and hope is renewed, that she gives up a physical token of her time of belief. She has been carrying around the mic for the whole journey, the dead mic. And without it she can lenses to see better. Without the weight of that thing which had covered her eyes symbolically she can literally see.
It's not a perfect analogy, but comes pretty damn close for a large chunk in the middle and as an ex-Mormon it really resonated with me.