As mesmerizing as it is confusing, The End of Everything by M. John Harrison (recently short-listed for the 2026 Booker Prize), is a project of palpable dread. Every apocalypse has a day after, and while this may be true for Destiny 2, that is less of a cry of victory here as it is an acceptance of some unchangeable truth. Not due to its impossibility to be changed but more because changing is simply too difficult. And the water is just a little too warm.

I believe I understand why the committee chose this book to be on the shortlist. It's a pointed commentary of generative AI, represented by the iGhetti and their misguided attempts at mimicking humanity. The languid indifference of its characters as they dwindle to their final embers. Marnie's artistic sensibilities, lost against the backdrop of some ever-looming dread. Philip's ultimate fate.

And while I understand this reasoning and respect it, this is certainly not a book for everyone. It keeps its secrets and is highly stubborn in giving them away, if at all. It's a confusing read, but I suppose the confusion aids in the ambiance. The quality is certainly present. The stylistic choices, chapter lengths, disjointed timelines all culminate to the end goal: ensuring the reader is either thoroughly entranced or put-off.

However, it lacks something I often search for in books, especially of this caliber. A certain sensitivity. A certain kindness. Towards not the reader or even the characters but towards the subject-matter itself. I find this work devoid of such a thing, and thus my enjoyment is thoroughly lacking.

tl;dr - If you're looking to be confused, you'll have a ball. If you're looking for something with heart that inspires a similar feeling of dread, I'd recommend Switzy by Emma Cline over this.