The Last Murder at the End of the World
The Last Murder at the End of the World
By: Stuart Turton
[Fulfilled ‘Book where the title takes up the entire cover’ prompt as part of Shelf Reflection’s 2025 Reading Challenge]
[On my list of Most Anticipated Books of 2024]
“The secrets on this island have teeth, and they don’t like being dragged into the light. Humanity can’t change itself. History has shown that. We need an intervention.”
“Sometimes the only way to win the game is to let the pieces think they’re the ones playing it.”
This was a pretty unique read. Part sci-fi/dystopian, part murder mystery. With themes about human nature and technology, good and evil, pain and suffering, and survival.
What I loved most about this book was the idea that the characters had to solve the mystery not knowing if they were the actual murderer or not (because of the memory wipes)!
They had to rely on observation and deduction and piecing things together, trying to gauge when people might be lying and having to come to terms with what they will do if they are the killer.
The context of the book— meaning why the world is ending— isn’t really talked about much. The island is isolated and supposedly housing the last remnant of humanity after ‘the fog’ (i.e. fog with scavenging insects?) ravaged the world. Somehow the island (and a half mile of ocean) is protected from it but we’re never really sure how. The current state of the world, what happened before the island went into lockdown, is not really a focus of the book. (Hey, everyone loves a prequel, right?)
We just jump right into this world and have to figure out what it all means.
Starting with Abi. (I’m like days past finishing the book and I just realized this might be pronounced like Abby and I’ve been saying Ah-bee this ENTIRE time like a total idiot.) Abi is the voice in everyone’s heads that can hear everyone’s thoughts and relay them to others. Her character is somewhat of a narrator and is told in the first person.
Then we find out that everyone dies at 60 (if they live that long). There is a curfew where everyone falls asleep at the same time and doesn’t remember anything that happens at night. But the elders (the scientists) of the island are over 150 years old and get special privileges.
When someone dies, an eight year old child appears in the village to take their place. People apply to become the parents. Everyone has to learn a skill to contribute to the village, but the noblest (and most dangerous) jobs are to apprentice with the scientists
It’s a strange beginning and took me a bit to get my bearings. The actual murder doesn’t occur right away so it feels a little slow as you wonder what is really going on on this island and try to keep everything straight.
The book is separated by markers letting us know how many more hours until humanity’s extinction. This is because the murder of one of the scientists activated the “dead man’s switch” which removed the barriers to the fog (that apparently approaches at the approximate speed of an old lady paying for her groceries in change) allowing it to come consume the island. They are told by Abi that if they find the murderer and execute them, the security system will be restored.
Very high stakes, indeed.
It kinda felt like a game of mafia. The townspeople go to sleep and when they wake up: THERE’S A MURDER! And they have to find the killer but nobody knows who anyone is or what anyone did. Except in this case, maybe it’s more like Ultimate Werewolf where you could end up flipping over your character piece and find out you’ve been the werewolf this almost whole time. What a rush.
Our main protagonist is Emory. She’s not quite like the other townspeople and is struggling to fit in. She asks too many questions instead of going along with the rules and isn’t afraid to challenge the scientists.
Weighed down by the added grief of losing both her husband and her mother who were apprentices to the scientists, her loyalty to the elders has diminished.
She is the perfect person to head up the investigation.
I love a good question-asker character! [And what a great name choice. Emory reminds me of ‘emery’ like an emery board. Rough and abrasive but in the end, smooths things over and keeps things in line.]
I’m not sure how many other characters are very loveable, but you can at least root for Emory. And for her daughter, Clara, who is currently a scientist’s apprentice. They are at odds but you are hopeful that somehow through this investigation they will reconcile.
What I didn’t like about this book was the elevation of ‘the created.’ That humans are too erratic and emotional and selfish and violent that they need to be replaced with something more controlled. I mean, I begin with the same premise: the problem is sin in humanity; but I end with a different solution: they need an outside source to transform them… perhaps their Creator.
I mean, yeah, the point of the book is to explore some other options— I get that. But I don’t see how technology fixes the problem— for those in the back: technology cannot be a savior.
AI is a big topic of conversation these days.
It came up in my thoughts as I was reading a book called Art + Faith when the author was posing how ‘creating’ is what makes us human. The ability to create. To imagine. AI generates things— is that considered creating? Is AI able to do everything better than actual humans? Does it matter?
It does matter. Our society is really trying to jumble the definition of ‘human’ and ‘life’ in so many ways. We can’t give up on humanity believing the world is better off with machines running things. Sure the pinnacle of God’s creation has fallen short because of sin, but we are made in the image of God, and are essential to the story of redemption God is telling, revealing to us His power and glory. The created can never be more than its Creator. It can never be better, more enlightened than its Creator.
Technology is a tool. It doesn’t have a soul. AI will never have a soul. It is amoral and its value can never be elevated above eternal souls.
There are many stories that explore ‘end of the world’ scenarios (try Tosca Lee’s The Line Between or Future’s Dark Past by J.L. Yarrow if you love them) and I get the curiosity and the fear— what happens if climate change is as bad as the worst predictions? what happens if there’s nuclear war? what happens if violence beats kindness? what about an EMP? what would the world look like if humans create their own demise? what if an animal act doesn’t win America’s Got Talent? It’s intriguing for sure.
Sometimes these types of stories stress me out— if they’re too realistic. Sometimes I don’t mind the exploration because I don’t actually live in fear of any of them coming to fruition. I serve a big God who is not worried by humanity’s evil potential. He dealt with the Tower of Babel pretty handedly (that’s not a word?) and AI is no match for him.
[Tony Reinke’s book God, Technology, and the Christian Life was a really good book on how to look at technology as Christians.]
But I’ll just say this: I think The Last Murder at the End of the World felt a little too heavy-handed on the idea that technology needs to put humanity in its place rather than the other way around.
Unless that’s exactly what Stuart was trying to tell us in which case— well done, Stuart, well done.
In a similar, but unrelated note, there’s this quote that I thought was interesting:
“A few governments tried to ban the technology, but humanity does not easily abandon its pleasures, even the vile ones.”
Most dystopian, end-of-the-world stories are trying to make a statement. To point out to readers: hey, stop doing such and such because, see, it goes badly for you. Obviously, stop being violent is easy pickings, but I think this quote should give readers the most pause.
It’s people’s pleasures that we need to evaluate. What pleasures are actually vile things? The pornography industry jumps out at me. All the ways that humanity has twisted sex into vile pleasures. I don’t know if people would call social media a pleasure, but there are a lot of vile things coming out of that that’s a problem. Drug and alcohol addictions begin as pleasures. They end in destruction. Being a Packers fan… does it get more vile than that?
Abandon your vile pleasures. That’s a good message.
Here’s another thought-provoking quote (because I believe Stuart is the kind of author who delights in readers being provoked into thought):
“If this plan works, we’ll create a world without suffering. For the first time in our history, there’ll be perfect equality. I can’t turn my back on that because I don’t have the strength to do what’s necessary.”
Okay, I’m not going to empty all my thoughts about this one here, partly because I don’t want to give any spoilers, but I think it’s worth pondering this idea that humanity could ever come up with a way to eliminate suffering and have perfect equality.
I think those are right things. I believe followers of Christ will experience them in heaven. But can we possibly fathom that happening on earth. By our own hand?
What do you think of the method employed in this book in order to achieve it? Does the method negate any morality that may result from it? Could morality ever result from that?
I also think we don’t think enough about our suffering. What role does suffering play in our lives? What kind of people would we be if we never experienced suffering? What characteristics or things might we miss if we never had pain or grief? We try so hard to eliminate any possibility of suffering, but we lose sight of what God is producing in us through our suffering.
What does perfect equality mean? What is lost when everything is perfectly equal? (If we can agree to a definition of equal…) There’s part of me that is pondering if perfect equality the way we humans tend to understand it will even be part of heaven. Maybe we don’t even understand equality.
There’s some good discussion questions for your book club!
To move on from the provoked thoughts, just a couple more notes on the book and the writing.
I think Turton… no, I’m going to stick with Stuart… has a refreshing way of writing. It doesn’t feel like a run-of-the-mill book. There’s some personality. Creativity. Even some humor snuck in there. After reading the author’s notes at the end, it confirms for me that Stuart is an interesting guy with a fun brain. I can see myself reading his other books (this was my first of his).
Like this line: “I’m trying to play chess, but Adil’s walking around with a cricket bat.”
That’s a creative line. I’m not sure if it necessarily fits the character that spoke it, but I appreciate the playfulness that was sprinkled in.
I do agree with some other reviewers that it was often hard to keep everyone straight. Even though there was a cast of characters at the beginning, I kept forgetting if Seth was her husband, her dad, or her grandpa. Seth is not a dad or grandpa name. The father should have been something like Ron and the grandpa should have been Herbert. Seth is a husband name… like Jack. Anyway, just some naming suggestions for future character names.
I also agree that this isn’t really a mystery you could necessarily solve on your own. You learn about the missing boat, corpse cart, bird carvings, boots, etc., but you don’t really even know what the world is like anymore so the reader’s observations have no legs. Which makes sense because observation requires eyes.
Recommendation
So what do we do with this book?
I land on this: I do recommend this book if you enjoy murder mysteries and aren’t afraid of some ambiguous weirdness.
If you’re like: a wall of people-eating fog and some super old scientists that are kinda jerks and I’m supposed to care that one of them died and somehow these people’s memories can be wiped??? Then yeah, probably not the book for you.
Is that helpful?
[Content Advisory: I don’t recall any swearing in this book; no sexual content; some violence (because HUMANS!!!!!)]
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