Susan Beth Pfeffer didn't play it safe. Most authors who write a hit book like Life As We Knew It stick to the same characters for the sequel. They give the fans more of what they already love. But when The Dead and the Gone hit shelves, it took a sharp, jagged turn that left a lot of us reeling. Instead of the snowy, isolated woods of Pennsylvania, we were shoved into the claustrophobic, starving streets of New York City. It was jarring. It was bleak. Honestly, it was one of the most stressful reading experiences of my life.
The world ended because the moon got hit by an asteroid. That’s the premise. It knocked the moon closer to Earth, triggered tsunamis, woke up every volcano, and basically broke the climate. In the first book, we saw Miranda’s family canning peaches and shivering in a sunroom. In The Dead and the Gone, we see Alex Morales trying to keep his younger sisters alive in a Puertorriqueño neighborhood in the Bronx while the city literally rots around them.
The Bronx vs. The End of the World
Alex Morales is a kid who shouldn't have to be a man. He’s seventeen. He’s a student at a posh prep school on a scholarship, a kid who cares about his grades and his future. Then the moon shifts. His parents don't come home. His father was at work; his mother was at the hospital. They’re just gone. Suddenly, he’s the head of a household consisting of his two younger sisters, Briana and Angel.
New York City is a character here. It’s not the glitzy version. It’s a tomb. Pfeffer captures the specific horror of an urban collapse. When the power goes out in the country, you worry about wood. When the power goes out in a high-rise, you worry about the smell. You worry about the elevator being a death trap. You worry about the millions of people who all need the same loaf of bread.
Alex’s journey is different from Miranda’s because he has the weight of the church and his culture pressing on him. He is a devout Catholic, or at least he tries to be. A lot of the tension in The Dead and the Gone comes from the friction between Alex’s morals and the reality of survival. Is it a sin to steal from the dead if your sister is starving? Pfeffer doesn't give easy answers. She makes you sit in the discomfort of his choices.
Why the Body Count Matters
This book is famous—or maybe infamous—for how it handles death. It’s not "movie death" where people die heroically with a final message. It’s "the dead and the gone" in a literal sense. People vanish. Bodies are stacked in the streets because the ground is too frozen to dig or the city services simply ceased to exist.
🔗 Read more: The Reality of Sex Movies From Africa: Censorship, Nollywood, and the Digital Underground
Briana, the middle child, is the heart of the tragedy. Her faith is so pure, and watching the world grind that down is brutal. There’s a specific plot point involving the "body bags" and the identification of the dead that is probably one of the most harrowing sequences in YA literature. Alex has to go to the piers to look for his parents among thousands of corpses. Pfeffer describes the industrial nature of it—the smell, the tags, the coldness. It’s visceral. It makes The Hunger Games look like a playground.
Survival is a Numbers Game
Alex becomes a master of "the hustle," but it’s a desperate one. He trades. He scrounges. He uses his school connections.
- He realizes early on that food is the only currency.
- The bodega becomes a fortress.
- The church, once a place of solace, becomes a distribution center for dwindling hope.
He’s forced to make a "Sophie’s Choice" regarding his sisters' safety. Does he keep them together and risk them all starving, or does he send them away? The logistical nightmare of New York—the lack of clean water, the spread of disease (specifically the "coughs" that signify the end for many)—creates a ticking clock that never stops.
The Religious Struggle in a Dead World
Religion is a huge part of why The Dead and the Gone feels so different from other post-apocalyptic novels. Usually, in these books, religion is either ignored or turned into a cult. Here, it’s a lived experience. Alex argues with God. He feels guilty for surviving. He feels guilty for not being able to save everyone.
The Jesuits at his school provide a weird sort of stability. They keep classes going long after it makes sense to. There’s something deeply human about that—trying to maintain the "old world" rituals even when the sky is falling. But then the reality of the food shortages hits the school, too. Even the elite aren't safe. The hierarchy of the city collapses, and the scholarship kid and the wealthy kids are all just hungry mouths.
💡 You might also like: Alfonso Cuarón: Why the Harry Potter 3 Director Changed the Wizarding World Forever
Comparing the Two Perspectives
People often ask if they can read this without reading the first book. You can. It happens simultaneously with Miranda’s story. While she’s writing in her diary about her mom being mean about the portions of ham, Alex is stepping over bodies in the Bronx.
| Feature | Life As We Knew It | The Dead and the Gone |
|---|---|---|
| Setting | Rural Pennsylvania | New York City (The Bronx) |
| Protagonist | Miranda (Middle-class, sheltered) | Alex (Working-class, burdened) |
| Tone | Atmospheric, quiet, claustrophobic | Gritty, frantic, desperate |
| Focus | Internal family dynamics | Urban survival and societal collapse |
The contrast is the point. Pfeffer wanted to show that the apocalypse isn't an equalizer. It hits harder if you’re already struggling. Alex doesn't have a basement full of canned goods. He has an apartment and a dwindling supply of hope.
The Ending That Split the Fanbase
Without spoiling every detail, the ending of The Dead and the Gone is polarising. Some call it a miracle; others call it a "deus ex machina." Personally? I think it fits the themes of the book. Alex spent the whole story looking for a sign, for a way out, for a way to save what was left of his family.
The tragedy isn't just who died. It’s who Alex became to stay alive. By the end, he is a ghost of the boy who wanted to go to a good college. That loss of innocence is the real "gone" in the title.
How to Approach This Book Today
If you’re planning to dive into this series (The Last Survivors), don't expect a fun romp. It’s bleak. It’s "the-moon-is-trying-to-kill-us" bleak. But it’s also a masterclass in pacing and character voice. Alex’s voice is distinct—hardened but fragile.
📖 Related: Why the Cast of Hold Your Breath 2024 Makes This Dust Bowl Horror Actually Work
Actionable Insights for New Readers:
- Read them in order, but treat them as separate. Don't expect Miranda to show up. This is Alex's story.
- Pay attention to the dates. The timeline matches up with the first book. It’s fascinating to see what was happening in the city while the events in the country unfolded.
- Prepare for the emotional toll. This book deals heavily with grief, the loss of parents, and the trauma of survival. It’t not light reading.
- Look for the third book. If the ending of this one leaves you hanging, This World We Live In eventually brings the two storylines together. It’s the payoff for the misery of book two.
The Dead and the Gone remains a landmark in YA because it didn't blink. It showed that in a crisis, the city doesn't just go dark—it transforms. It challenges the reader to wonder what they would trade for a bag of rice or a gallon of water. It’s a haunting, necessary look at the fragility of our systems and the strength of the siblings who refuse to let go of each other.
To get the most out of the experience, try tracking the lunar phases mentioned in the text against a 2008 calendar. Pfeffer used real dates and days of the week, which adds an eerie layer of realism to the collapse. If you're interested in urban survival narratives, compare Alex's decisions to the real-world emergency protocols for New York City; it highlights just how quickly those plans would fall apart in a true global catastrophe.
---