Everything You Ever Wanted by Luiza Sauma

Recently, I came across a book on YouTube called Everything You Ever Wanted. Readers on YouTube were recommending this in a very confident and exciting way, saying things like, "If you've ever wanted to leave your job and social media and the Internet behind, this is the book for you!"

Every recommendation hit this note: if you've ever wanted to walk away from it all, this is the book for you.

The story's premise seemed to back it up as well. We meet our main character, who is deeply stuck in her life. Same routines, same scrolling, loops, the dull gravity of depression that flattened everything before it can even begin to matter. She doesn't want to change; she wants to feel something again, so when she gets a chance to audition for a reality show on another planet, she takes it. The catches, once you go to this planet, you can never come back to Earth.

That sounds very exciting and right up my street. It sounds kind of like The Running Man and The Hunger Games meet Stargate. So, it sounded perfect for me.

I went into it, thinking it would be a little lighter in tone, expecting a lot of energy and movement. A story that has a lot of forward momentum.

Instead, I got something that felt closer to a dark episode of The Twilight Zone.

Early on, there's a moment where the setting shifts, when she crosses from the life she knows into something else. It isn't dramatic. There's no big cinematic snap. But from that point on, everything feels a little bit off. Conversations don't land the way you expect them to. Time is kind of forgotten.

Part of being on the show on the other planet is that participants put out content, but they don't receive any. So, they have no idea if people on Earth are even watching.

There are cameras in almost every room. The only indication that the participants are being watched and that their lives are being pumped down to Earth is the red LED lights attached to all the cameras. This makes the show aspect of the story feel like it isn't really happening.

The story, in its entirety, reads like a liminal space, and that feeling never goes away and never corrects itself.

It's not what I would call a happy story. It's not even sad in the way that lets you settle into it. It's uncomfortable, low-grade, persistent, like background noise you can't quite tune out. Even in moments that should feel exciting, there's a strange flatness to it all, like the emotional payoff has been deliberately taken out.

Which is why it's so strange to see this book framed as escapist fantasy.

The recommendations I watched said this book would be perfect for someone who wishes they could get rid of the Internet and wants to start their life over in a more peaceful way. Like they would get some kind of satisfaction from reading this book.

This is not that kind of book.

I think these recommendations were made by people who had either not finished or had not yet read the book.

It's not a fantasy of escape. If anything, it's about what happens when you leave everything behind and discover that you don't love it, and actually, you were wrong about leaving everything being the cure to your unease.

And then, there's the ending.

When I finish the book, I gave it four out of five stars in my reading notebook without really thinking about it. That felt right in the moment. But the longer I sit with it, the more that rating feels wrong. I think it needs to be more like a three or three and a half.

Not because the book fails, but because it commits.

The ending is open. You can read it a couple of different ways, but it never confirms anything for you. It just stops and leaves you there, still trying to orient yourself.

I used to love that kind of ending. When I was younger, ambiguity felt very sophisticated in writing, proof that the writer trusted you enough not to have to explain it.

Now I find myself wanting something else. Not necessarily a happy ending, but a clear one. Something that lands with intention. Something that tells you, definitively, what you've been going through with these characters.

This book doesn't do that. It withholds that on purpose.

But I want to be very clear about something: I liked the book.

I borrowed this book from the library, and I liked it enough that I'm definitely gonna buy my own copy. I liked the writing. I liked the atmosphere. I was completely in it while I was reading it. Just because the ending didn't land the way I personally wanted it to doesn't mean the book isn't good.

If anything, it's the opposite. It surprised me.

I wouldn't recommend this book to everyone. It deals heavily with depression, with suicidal thinking, with the kind of internal weight that can be a lot.

It is, however, a memorable book. It's the kind of book that sits with you in a way that isn't entirely comfortable. Almost like a dream you can't fully explain, or a nightmare that doesn't fade properly when you wake up. The story lingers with you.

So, I wouldn't call this escapist fiction. Not even close. If anything, it's a story about how the fantasy of escape starts to fall apart the moment you step into said escape. How leaving everything behind doesn't cleanly free you so much as unmoors you. And once you're unmoored, there's no guarantee the story is going to guide you back to solid ground.

→ Get a Copy of Everything You Ever Wanted

Shop Used Books - https://www.thriftbooks.com

Shop Amazon (none of us want to, but we all do) - https://amzn.to/4tpYoR6

Shopping at Amazon.com with affiliate links puts a little money in my book-buying fund. I am eternally grateful.

Shopping at Thriftbooks.com gives old books new homes, and that's just good karma. The planet thanks you.