Image from David Wong’s Blog @ johndiesattheend.com
I’ve been meaning to write a post on John Dies at the End. Forgive the lateness - I know the book was released in 2007, and the sequel’s going to be released soon, but I only picked it up after I read Wong’s (or Pargin’s) article on the Monkeysphere on Cracked a couple months ago. Just before that, I’d seen the book, browsing around the internet. The article persuaded me enough to buy and read the book.
A quick synopsis before we get into what I think. John Dies at the End uses the story-within-a-story device; it revolves around David Wong, the main protagonist as well as the author, telling a reporter about his and John Cheese’s experiences with the supernatural. They are ghost/monster hunters who have been so close to the edge of the universe (figuratively) that they got a look down into the void. After that, they started seeing things; things that no one else could see, like ghosts and snake women and wig monsters. During the story, they face everything from Soy Sauce to fake Jamaicans to extra-dimensional warp holes_._
Minor spoilers and numerous references to other fantasy books below. This isn’t really a review as much as a discussion. If you’re looking for a condemnation or a recommendation (although I suppose this is a recommendation), look elsewhere.
It’s the most unsettling book I’ve ever read. I said as much in an unrelated article, and I stand by that point. It’s got a severed arm on the cover, for goodness sake. However, now that I’ve finished it, I now think it’s also the most touching and heartwarming one I’ve ever read. For a couple days now, I’ve been stewing over the words to put in this post. Every night as I lie in my bed now, my mind drifts off and thinks about the final events in the book instead of the stuff you’ll find later on in this post. And I tell you now, that John Dies at the End is, simply put, a masterpiece.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I understand how ridiculous this sounds. I have a huge amount of what my AP English teacher called “willing suspension of disbelief” and what I’d call naivety. I had to read The Gone Away World, a book full of plot holes, three or four times to see the logical holes in the plot. (It’s still my favorite book.) When I watch criticisms of games I play, I go, “huh, I totally agree with these criticisms, but never saw them myself when playing.” I am sure there is something I’m missing here that people hate about John Dies at the End.
I don’t care. Just like The Gone Away World, it’s great in all the ways I believe a book needs to be. It has a solid, well thought out message, but it doesn’t take itself too seriously. It alternates, skillfully and wildly, between horrifying, disturbing scenes and ridiculously humorous ones. It makes you care about the characters so much that when the plot twist comes, you literally feel like you’ve been punched in the stomach.
When I say literally, I mean literally. When the book neared its conclusion, one of the big reveals came and I felt a very real and sharp pain in my stomach. It felt like there was something burning there. I closed the book for a moment and just sat on the couch, thinking about what had just happened and how I felt about it. Playing through To The Moon, I came close to tears, and at the conclusion the First Law Trilogy, I felt a deep sorrow for The Empire, but I have never felt real, physical pain at a fictional circumstance.
I really enjoy dark fantasy books like Abercrombie’s First Law Trilogy. That series is one that my friends tell me I’m crazy for liking. They read fantasy for escapism; to some degree, I do as well, but I also read it to… Well, to be honest, I don’t really know. Maybe to show that my life is so much better than it could be? Anyway, the point is, I am no stranger to bad endings. I thrive on them. I like Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire, and respected if not enjoyed Prince of Thorns. But reading through John Dies at the End, I really, really wanted those characters to have a happy ending. At the end, I wanted nothing more.
How did it hold so much power over me? I can’t pinpoint the exact place in the story where I started caring so much about David Wong and his friends. Maybe it’s because he’s like me - not that I’m completely insane like he is, mind you. It’s more that he knows his own mortality, owns it, thinks about it every day. He admits as much in the book. The difference between he and other people is that he is brave enough to tell the people he cares about his innermost, deepest fears. Although, that’s probably a byproduct of the terrifying times he finds himself in.
Indeed, when I think about telling my innermost, deepest fears about mortality and disappearing of the face of the earth and the carelessness of some - rather, many - people, it’s usually in the deep of night with no one around but the streetlights outside, shining through the window. I think about what would happen if I died, would anyone care, even that girl I like, and what would happen if I disappeared, if the god(s) took me off the face of the earth with no trace, not even my past or any memories of me, what happens if that happens to my mom or dad or friends, would I remember them like people do in the books, and I get that horrible clenching sensation in my gut and my brain tells me to just let it go, go to sleep, tomorrow you’ll forget about it. And so another day begins. I try to persuade myself that I’m the only one who thinks about that stuff, because I don’t want to tell it to anyone else. I don’t think anyone could relate. And I think, finally, here’s a book that can tell me no, you’re not the only one. You’re not the only crazy one.
After a while of this, I opened my eyes and did the only thing I could do.
I finished the book, ranted about it to my friends and lent it to one, after making him promise to read it.