Friday, April 29, 2011
Review for The Maze Runner by James Dashner
How am I going to get across that YOU SHOULD READ THIS BOOK? I read this one a while back and loved it. When I picked it up again to read it, I'm like, 'I hope its as good as the first time". Let me tell you it was. Even though I knew the outcomes and secrets, it still had me on the edge and up till 2 o'clock in the morning!!
The plot is amazing. How did James ever come up with it? He's a genius at his writing style too. He reveals bits here and there, just enough for you to create your own theories but not enough for you to know exactly what's going on. It's an incredible ride!! It's so easy to read and understand. And the 'language' they made up in the Glade was so ingenious! Haha, I have to laugh at "Greenie"... Anyways, the descriptions of the place and how it all works was so enjoyable - except for the Grievers - monstrous things that live in the maze.
The characters were just as I remembered them! I still love Thomas as a main character, he's just so interesting to read about. As well as Newt, Minho, Teresa. You know who else I loved? Chuck. Lovable, funny Chuck. Thomas's best friend. (Just a note to author regarding Chuck: Why?) All of those characters are my favourite, each had their own personality, which brought a lot to the story.
I am so happy to have the second book, The Scorch Trails.... So if you haven't read it, I highly recommend you to read it!! It's a fast-paced, full of mystery kind of book- which even has telepathy in it! Go, go, go! I want to see more reviews for this!!
My name is Thomas, he thought.
That... that was the only thing he could remember about his life.
He didn't understand how this could be possible. His mind functioned without flaw, trying to calculate his surroundings and predicament. Knowledge flooded his thoughts, facts and images, memories and details of the world and how it works. He pictured snow on trees, running down a leaf-strewn road, eating a hamburger, the moon casting a pale glow on a grassy meadow, swimming in a lake, a busy city square with hundreds of people bustling about their business.
And yet he didn't know where he came from, or how he'd gotten inside the dark lift, or who his parents were. He didn't even know his last name. Images of people flashed across his mind, but there was no recognition, their faces replaced with haunted smears of color. He couldn't think of one person he knew, or recall a single conversation.
The room continued its ascent, swaying; Thomas grew immune to the ceaseless rattling of the chains that pulled him upward. A long time passed. Minutes stretched into hours, although it was impossible to know for sure because every second seemed an eternity. No. He was smarter than that. Trusting his instincts, he knew he'd been moving for roughly half an hour.
Strangely enough, he felt his fear whisked away like a swarm of gnats caught in the wind, replaced by an intense curiosity. He wanted to know where he was and what was happening.
With a groan and then a clonk, the rising room halted; the sudden change jolted Thomas from his huddled position and threw him across the hard floor. As he scrambled to his feet, he felt the room sway less and less until it finally stilled. Everything fell silent.
A minute passed. Two. He looked in every direction but saw only darkness; he felt along the walls again, searching for a way out. But there was nothing, only the cool metal. He groaned in frustration; his echo amplified through the air, like the haunted moan of death. It faded, and silence returned. He screamed, called for help, pounded on the walls with his fists.
Thomas backed into the corner once again, folded his arms and shivered, and the fear returned. He felt a worrying shudder in his chest, as if his heart wanted to escape, to flee his body.
"Someone... help... me!" he screamed; each word ripped his throat raw.
A loud clank rang out above him and he sucked in a startled breath as he looked up. A straight line of light appeared across the ceiling of the room, and Thomas watched as it expanded. A heavy grating sound revealed double sliding doors being forced open. After so long in darkness, the light stabbed his eyes; he looked away, covering his face with both hands.
He heard noises above--voices--and fear squeezed his chest.
"Look at that shank."
"How old is he?"
"Looks like a klunk in a T-shirt."
"You're the klunk, shuck-face."
"Dude, it smells like feet down there!"
"Hope you enjoyed the one-way trip, Greenie."
"Ain't no ticket back, bro."
Thomas was hit with a wave of confusion, blistered with panic. The voices were odd, tinged with echo; some of the words were completely foreign--others felt familiar. He willed his eyes to adjust as he squinted toward the light and those speaking. At first he could see only shifting shadows, but they soon turned into the shapes of bodies--people bending over the hole in the ceiling, looking down at him, pointing.
And then, as if the lens of a camera had sharpened its focus, the faces cleared. They were boys, all of them--some young, some older. Thomas didn't know what he'd expected, but seeing those faces puzzled him. They were just teenagers. Kids. Some of his fear melted away, but not enough to calm his racing heart.
Someone lowered a rope from above, the end of it tied into a big loop. Thomas hesitated, then stepped into it with his right foot and clutched the rope as he was yanked toward the sky. Hands reached down, lots of hands, grabbing him by his clothes, pulling him up. The world seemed to spin, a swirling mist of faces and color and light. A storm of emotions wrenched his gut, twisted and pulled; he wanted to scream, cry, throw up. The chorus of voices had grown silent, but someone spoke as they yanked him over the sharp edge of the dark box. And Thomas knew he'd never forget the words.
"Nice to meet ya, shank," the boy said. "Welcome to the Glade."