According to Frank Cottrell Boyce's blurb on the back cover of The Knife of Never Letting Go, the new Patrick Ness novel has one of the best first sentences he has ever read "and a book that lives up to it."
The sentence in question is:
"The first thing you find out when yer dog learns to talk is that dogs don't got nothing to say."
Boyce is right, but I would stretch his comment further and tell you the names of the chapters are also among the best ones I've ever read. The Choices of a Knife and The Night of No Apologies, for example, reminded me of hardboiled novels like The Maltese Falcon. Of course, The Knife of Never Letting Go is no hardboiled novel. It is in fact Patrick Ness' debut in the YA market. An extremely auspicious debut by the way. I just couldn't stop reading it.
It may sound clichéd, or reductionist, to simply compare a book with others in order to review it. A good book should be more than the sum of its parts (or chapters, or characters), but the comparison is made so that the reader can have an idea of the time-honored tradition in which the said book is inserted.
Having said that, let's move further and say, for argument's sake, that the reading of The Knife of Never Letting Go (a simply beautiful title for a novel - Ness is a craftsman with words) was, for me, an experience reminiscent of some the best stories written by Ray Bradbury and Stephen King, adding a pinch of Philip Wylie to the mix.
Why is that? Well, some people (I'm including myself in the list) still have some prejudice with YA stories. The fact is, they really don't know what they are talking about. The young adult literature of today is very different to the books we used to read when we were teens (in my case, thirty-some years ago).
The honorable exceptions to that rule being the aforementioned writers. Ray Bradbury in his short fantasy stories and in novels like Something Wicked This Way Comes, in which he respects the intelligence of the reader--never minding his/her age.
The same can be said of Stephen King in the story of "The Body" for example, or in The Dark Tower series, featuring children and/or teenagers in dangerous situations that serve as rites of passage to adulthood. And, as rites of passages go, there is lots of pain and suffering--but there is also a light at the end of the tunnel.
The story of The Knife of Never Letting Go is deceptively simple: Todd Hewitt, a thirteen-year-old boy, living in a very small, old-fashioned American town by a swamp, suffers a lot because he is the only boy his age, and none of the older boys will talk to him. That happens because of a sort of manhood ritual every boy must undergo at his fourteenth birthday. And, in a month, it will be Todd Hewitt's time.
The first thing you notice is there are no women whatsoever in the town. Every single one of them died because of an alien disease . . . and then we discover that they are not even on Earth, but in a colony which was occupied approximately three decades before.
Upon reaching his home in Prentisstown, where he is raised by two guys who were friends with his parents (both dead now), Todd is suddenly told that he must run away from there, because he simply can't undergo the rite of passage.
Todd doesn't want to flee, and demands to know why this is being asked of him. But there's something else: the same disease that took the lives of the colony's women has also turned every man (and animals, at that) into telepaths. That means Todd can't be told why he must go; Ben and Cillian, his foster parents, can't even think it, for their Noise (that's how they call their thoughts) would be promptly detected by the band of Mayor Prentiss, who rules Prentisstown with an iron fist.
From then on, everything happens so fast it's just impossible to put the book aside. That's because The Knife of Never Letting Go is a page-turner, and that's not simply a cliché. Every ten or fifteen pages, something important happens. A new datum (or packet of data) drops on our laps and we can't ignore it, so we keep on reading the book, following the narrative as if we were right at Todd's side, running away with him. In this respect, Ness follows the tradition founded in science fiction by A.E. Van Vogt, who systematized his writing method, using scenes of 800 words or so where a new complication was added or something resolved. Patrick Ness does the same, and brilliantly.
Ness´ use of language is pretty good. The personality of Todd Hewitt is also very well-balanced, and, even though he can be a pain in the neck sometimes, the reader sympathizes with him because of all his suffering. Sadly, I can't write more than that, because the novel is so dense and intricate (and at the same time so easy to read) that everything one writes about it can turn out to be a spoiler. But take it easy, readers: I barely touched the surface of the book. There's so much more than the first 60 pages I described--after all, the novel has approximately 470 pages, and many a thing will happen that you won't be expecting.
The Knife of Never Letting Go is also reminiscent of the classic Philip Wylie duology about the end of the world, When Worlds Collide and After Worlds Collide. More so of the second novel, which features as its bottom line the following question: What happens when you arrive at a new world to colonize it and everything goes wrong?
In conclusion, I finished The Knife of Never Letting Go eager to know what happens next. And since this is the first book of a trilogy, we've only skimmed the surface of the story and have so much territory to cover yet in the following two novels...
(This review also appeared in Fantasy Book Critic.)
