Some books just sit on your shelf and collect dust. Others, like Benjamin Alire Sáenz’s 2012 masterpiece Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe, have this weird way of becoming a part of your actual DNA. It’s a quiet story. There are no explosions, no dragons, and honestly, not even a traditional "villain" in the way most Young Adult novels try to force one. It’s just two Mexican-American boys in El Paso, Texas, trying to figure out why the world feels so heavy.
If you haven't read it in a while, or if you're just catching up because of the 2023 film adaptation directed by Aitch Alberto, you might remember the rain. Or the desert. Or the way Ari—Aristotle Mendoza—is constantly fighting a war inside his own head.
The Loneliness of being Aristotle Mendoza
Ari is a mess. Not a "cute movie" mess, but a real, brooding, fifteen-year-old mess who doesn't know how to talk to his dad. His dad is a Vietnam vet who keeps his trauma locked in a basement somewhere in his mind, and Ari has inherited that silence. It’s a specific kind of intergenerational weight that Sáenz captures perfectly. When we talk about Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe, we have to talk about that silence. It’s the third main character in the book.
Then you have Dante Quintana.
Dante is the polar opposite. He’s expressive. He likes poetry. He doesn't wear shoes if he can help it. He’s "knowable" in a way Ari finds terrifying. When they meet at the swimming pool, it isn't some grand cinematic moment; it’s just a boy who can’t swim meeting a boy who can.
Why the 1980s Setting Actually Matters
A lot of people forget this book is a period piece. Setting the story in 1987 isn't just a stylistic choice for neon lights or cassette tapes. It’s a deliberate move to place these characters in a world without the vocabulary we have now for identity. There was no "BookTok" to tell Ari it was okay to be confused. There was no instant digital community.
Being a queer Latino teen in El Paso in the late 80s meant navigating a very specific brand of machismo. You see it in the way Ari looks at his brother, Bernardo, who has been erased from the family history. Bernardo is in prison, and nobody talks about him. That "not talking" is what Ari is trying to escape, even if he doesn't realize it yet.
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The Incident That Changes Everything
The turning point in the narrative—the car accident—is where the book shifts from a "slice of life" story into something much more visceral. When Ari pushes Dante out of the way of a speeding car, he breaks both his legs. But more than that, he breaks the barrier he’s built around himself.
You’d think a hero moment like that would make Ari feel good. Instead, he’s miserable. He’s angry at Dante for being "the reason" he’s hurt, even though he chose to jump. This is where Sáenz shows his brilliance as a writer. He understands that trauma doesn't always make us better people; sometimes it just makes us more defensive.
- Ari’s recovery is slow and painful.
- Dante moves to Chicago for a year, forcing them into a long-distance friendship through letters.
- The letters are where we see Dante’s vulnerability, contrasting with Ari’s short, guarded responses.
Honestly, the letters are the best part of the middle act. They’re raw. Dante is experimenting with his identity, trying drugs, kissing people, and being brutally honest about his feelings for Ari. Ari, meanwhile, is just trying to survive high school without losing his mind.
Breaking Down the "Secrets"
What are the "secrets of the universe" anyway? The title sounds pretentious, but the book is the opposite. The secrets aren't cosmic. They’re small.
The secret is that your parents are real people with their own scars. The secret is that you can’t protect the people you love from the world, no matter how hard you try. And the big one—the one Ari spends the whole book running from—is that you can't lie to your own heart forever.
Lin-Manuel Miranda, who narrated the audiobook, once mentioned in an interview how much the rhythm of the prose mattered. The sentences are short. Punchy. Like a heartbeat. That’s how Ari thinks.
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The Parents Aren't the Enemy
In most YA fiction, parents are either dead, evil, or completely oblivious. Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe flips that script. The Quintana family is incredibly supportive, almost to a fault. They’re "huggers." They talk about their feelings.
The Mendoza family is more complicated, but they aren't the villains. Ari’s mom, Sarah, is a teacher who sees through his BS. His dad, Jaime, eventually breaks his silence about the war. This is a crucial subversion of the "tragic queer story" trope. The conflict isn't coming from homophobic parents; it’s coming from Ari’s internal struggle to accept himself.
Comparing the Book to the Movie
Aitch Alberto’s 2023 film had a massive mountain to climb. How do you film a book that is almost entirely internal monologue?
Max Pelayo (Ari) and Reese Gonzales (Dante) did a staggering job. The film captures the heat of El Paso—that shimmering, oppressive summer sun. While some fans felt the pacing was a bit rushed compared to the slow-burn of the novel, the emotional beats landed. The scene in the truck? It felt exactly how Sáenz wrote it.
The movie also highlights the "Mexican-ness" of the story in a way that feels natural. It’s about the food, the language, and the landscape. It’s about being "too Mexican" for some and "not Mexican enough" for others, a theme that resonates deeply with many readers who live in the in-between spaces of culture.
The Legacy of the Story
Since its release, the book has won the Printz Honor, the Stonewall Award, and the Pura Belpré Award. But awards don't really matter to the kids who find this book in a library and realize they aren't alone.
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There is a sequel, Aristotle and Dante Dive into the Waters of the World, which came out in 2021. It’s much longer and deals with the AIDS crisis and more explicit political themes. While some fans prefer the simplicity of the first book, the sequel provides a necessary look at what happens "after" the happy ending. Because life doesn't just stop when you get the guy.
Why We Still Talk About It
We live in an era of "high-concept" fiction. Everything has to be a multiverse or a survival game. Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe proves that a story about two boys in a truck looking at the stars is enough.
It’s a masterclass in character voice. You could pull a random sentence out of the book and know exactly who said it. Dante’s voice is light, airy, and full of questions. Ari’s voice is heavy, grounded, and full of periods.
If you're looking for a deep, emotional experience, this is the one. It handles sensitive topics—hate crimes, PTSD, and identity—with a level of grace you don't often see. It doesn't exploit the characters' pain for "trauma porn." It treats them with respect.
Next Steps for Readers and Fans
If you've finished the book and find yourself in a "book hangover," here is how to move forward.
First, watch the 2023 film if you haven't. It’s a beautiful visual companion that understands the source material's heart. Next, read the sequel, Aristotle and Dante Dive into the Waters of the World, but be prepared—it’s a much heavier emotional lift than the first one.
For those who loved the writing style, check out Benjamin Alire Sáenz’s poetry. You can see the poetic influence in every paragraph of Ari’s story. Lastly, if you're struggling with the themes Ari faces, look into local LGBTQ+ youth organizations or Latino community centers. The "secrets" Ari discovered are meant to be shared, and finding your own "tribe" is the most important step of all.