A Journey Through “Everything, Everything” by Nicola Yoon
When I first stumbled upon Everything, Everything by Nicola Yoon, I was immediately captivated by its premise—a young girl, Madeline Whittier, confined within her sterile home due to a rare disease called SICD. As someone who often finds herself yearning for adventure and the unknown, I was drawn to Madeline’s world, a poignant landscape where even the smallest risk feels like a plunge into the abyss. After spending about 36 hours reflecting on this intricate story, I still feel a swirl of conflicting emotions. Perhaps sharing my thoughts will clarify what it is that both enchanted and perplexed me.
At its heart, Everything, Everything is as much about love as it is about the constraints that fear can impose. Madeline has never stepped outside her house—her world is a carefully curated bubble designed to protect her from the perils of the outside world. However, everything changes when Olly, the charming boy next door, enters her life, igniting a yearning for more than just existence. As Madeline says, “For the first time in a long time. I want more than I have.” This quote resonates deeply. It encapsulates the fundamental human experience of longing, inspiring readers to consider what we risk by staying safe.
Yoon crafts her characters with such empathy that I found myself oscillating between anger, admiration, and heartache. Madeline is a beautifully complex protagonist, battling not just her illness but the very real desire to live fully. I admired her depth; she exudes strength and vulnerability in equal measure. Her relationship with Olly felt raw and authentic—an exhilarating rush that many first loves embody. Olly brings humor and spontaneity into Madeline’s life, and their chemistry leap off the page. I found myself rooting for them, even amid the chaos of Madeline’s internal struggles.
However, the story takes a darker turn as Madeline’s mother, who initially seems protective, begins to feel suffocating. It was hard for me to reconcile the love I felt for Madeline with the growing resentment I felt for her mother’s overbearing nature. “I understand that she seems to have a mental illness, but damn if I’d be Maddy, I’d be sooo angry at her!” It’s rare to see such emotionally charged conflict portrayed with nuance, reflecting how love can sometimes warp into control in the name of protection.
Yoon’s writing style is both lyrical and accessible, with an ebb and flow that drives the narrative forward without losing depth. The inclusion of illustrations and text messages adds a modern twist that enhances the storytelling experience, making it feel immersive and relatable. I’ll admit, at times, I found myself puzzled by Maddy’s choices, especially given her mother’s actions which, in the end, feel nearly unforgivable. Yet, it’s in this turmoil that Yoon prompts us to ponder what freedom truly means.
In reflecting on the conclusion, I found a bittersweet taste lingering long after I turned the last page. “Everything’s a risk. Not doing anything is a risk. It’s up to you.” This line encapsulates the core of the book, reminding me that life is a series of calculated risks—something that resonates with our innate desire to break free from constraints, be they physical or emotional.
I would recommend Everything, Everything to readers who enjoy poignant love stories that tackle difficult themes with sensitivity and grace. It’s perfect for anyone who’s ever grappled with the tension between safety and desire, ultimately inviting us to confront our own risks. For me, this book was not just a read; it was a journey—a reflection on what it means to truly live, which is, perhaps, the biggest risk of all.