We Are Inevitable – Gayle Forman (2021)

We Are Inevitable by Gayle Forman, published in 2021, is a poignant contemporary novel that explores grief, resilience, and the quiet power of books through the eyes of a teenage boy grappling with profound loss. Best known for If I Stay and other emotionally resonant young adult titles, Forman brings her signature compassion and insight to this moving narrative set in a small Pacific Northwest town.

Plot Summary

In a quiet Washington mountain town where the rain rarely pauses and the past is a weight stitched into the present, a teenager named Aaron Stein lives among the remnants of what once was a life built by love and bound by books. The bookstore, Bluebird Books, sits like a wounded creature on Main Street – shelves sagging, spines cracked, stories unopened. His father, Ira, clings to it with the desperation of a man trying to rewind time. Once a vibrant sanctuary where Ira and Aaron’s mother curated joy, now it groans beneath debt and disrepair. And in the stillness of that dusty, hollow store, Aaron begins to count down his days – not toward a future, but toward inevitable ruin.

Aaron is haunted. Not by ghosts, but by a brother lost to addiction, a mother who fled, and a father slowly slipping from reality. His world is full of silences – unspoken pain, unpaid bills, unread books. Every day he wakes to care for a bookstore no one visits, a father who mistakes despair for routine, and a grief that has calcified in his bones. The only reprieve he allows himself is a book about dinosaurs, because their extinction, at least, makes sense.

But extinction is not always quiet. One morning, the shelves collapse. Literally. The metaphor is almost too on-the-nose, but Aaron is too tired for poetry. Ira insists on replacing them – an urgent shelf-saving expedition to a beloved local furniture store. Only the store, like everything else in their town, has changed hands. Ira doesn’t see the irony of buying overpriced shelves from a corporate chain. Aaron sees nothing but irony.

The shelves they can’t afford become a catalyst. The bookstore, already teetering on the edge, begins to crumble in earnest. The truth arrives with envelopes and overdue notices – credit cards maxed out, debts hidden in recycling bins, taxes unfiled. Ira, once a man who believed books were miracles crafted from 26 letters, now spins fantasies of salvation through furniture. Aaron sees only futility and fire. In secret, he fantasizes about torching the store and watching their losses vanish in smoke.

Then comes Chad Santos, a former golden boy turned wheelchair user, his snowboard glory days ended in a hospital bed. Chad is all grin and relentless cheer, rolling into Aaron’s carefully quarantined life like a battering ram. He insists on helping build a ramp for the bookstore, seeing accessibility where Aaron sees decay. Despite himself, Aaron agrees, partly out of guilt, partly out of inertia. What begins as a half-hearted favor turns into a collision of generations, intentions, and frustrations.

The ramp, a warped piece of plywood Chad drags from his yard, becomes a town affair. The lumberjacks – old mill workers now out of work and out of rhythm – appear on the scene like a chorus of skeptics. They scoff at the ramp and, with rough hands and retired tools, offer to build something real. Aaron, weary of being a project, resists. He’s seen enough well-meant gestures collapse into disappointment. But Ira welcomes the help, always open to a good deed, a mitzvah, even if it costs more than it promises.

The bookstore begins to stir. Customers trickle in. A ramp is built. Books are restacked. The future still feels like a trap, but the present starts to breathe. Chad becomes more than a nuisance – he becomes a lifeline, someone who refuses to treat Aaron like a broken object. Slowly, grudgingly, Aaron begins to admit that maybe extinction is not guaranteed. Maybe survival doesn’t mean returning to what was lost, but forging something new from the ruins.

Yet the bills remain. The building is still mortgaged. The shelves are full, but the register is empty. Aaron knows that the ramp and camaraderie are not enough. He begins to consider the unthinkable – selling his brother’s record collection. Sandy’s vinyls are sacred, hidden in locked bins, cataloged and untouched since his death. Selling them feels like betrayal. But keeping them, in the face of mounting debt and dwindling options, feels like drowning.

One night, Aaron loads a crate into the car and drives to a music venue. He doesn’t have a plan, just desperation. The attempt fails. The memories are too heavy, the records too precious. Even guilt can’t move his hands. But the trip triggers something unexpected. Chad recognizes the records, remembers Sandy, shares a story not of addiction, but of music, connection, life. Suddenly, Sandy isn’t just a ghost who left them behind – he’s a boy who once had friends, laughter, a world outside of pain.

Aaron returns home with the records untouched but his resolve cracked. If Sandy could love music, maybe there’s something worth preserving in what he left behind. He begins to sell the collection – not all, just some. Enough to float the bookstore, pay the bills, keep Ira warm and the lights on. Every record he parts with feels like a wound, but also a stitch.

Meanwhile, the town, once indifferent, begins to lean closer. Penny Macklemore, local mogul and smiling shark, continues to eye the bookstore for her real estate empire. Aaron, once ready to hand her the keys, begins to reconsider. The bookstore, though fragile, is starting to pulse again. Visitors come. Books are opened. Conversations bloom. Ira, while still fractured, finds moments of lucidity, of purpose. Chad becomes part of the landscape – a ramp he helped build, a comic book regular, a friend.

Aaron doesn’t forget the inevitability of change. He doesn’t forgive the world its disasters. But he learns to live among the rubble. He keeps a record or two for himself. He paints the store. He laughs, occasionally. He begins to read again – not about dinosaurs, but people. And when a group of misfit volunteers form a book club on a whim, he joins. Not because he believes in miracles. But because, sometimes, choosing to stay is enough.

Main Characters

• Aaron Stein – The narrator and emotional center of the novel, Aaron is a teenager who feels like an extinction-era dinosaur, left behind by his mother and older brother, and burdened with the failing family bookstore and a grieving father. Struggling with guilt and isolation, Aaron’s internal arc is one of gradual reawakening, learning to accept help, rebuild connections, and consider a future he thought impossible.

• Ira Stein – Aaron’s father, a passionate bibliophile whose once-fervent dedication to books and routine now masks his mental health struggles. Ira is both tragic and endearing, a man clinging to order as the world changes around him. His loving but deteriorating state forces Aaron into premature responsibility, though their bond remains quietly tender throughout.

• Chad Santos – A former popular snowboarder now in a wheelchair due to an accident, Chad is unexpectedly persistent and optimistic. Initially met with suspicion by Aaron, Chad’s inclusion, humor, and determination become instrumental in dragging Aaron – and the bookstore – back into the community.

• Penny Macklemore – A pragmatic and powerful townswoman who owns several local businesses. Though she often comes off as abrasive or opportunistic, Penny represents the economic and social forces pressing in on Bluebird Books, challenging Aaron’s ideals while offering backhanded support.

• Sandy Stein – Aaron’s deceased older brother, whose addiction and eventual overdose left scars that shape much of the story. Though he never appears directly, Sandy’s presence lingers through memories, records, and emotional echoes, complicating Aaron’s grief and guilt.

• Annie (Aaron’s mother) – Having abandoned the family post-tragedy, Annie now drifts from place to place as a pet-sitter. Her intermittent calls reveal a woman trying to heal in her own way, and though estranged, she adds complexity to the family’s fractured dynamic.

Theme

• Grief and the Long Tail of Loss
  Aaron’s internal monologue is soaked in loss – of his brother, his mother, his future, and the bookstore that once symbolized home. The novel portrays grief as both quiet and cataclysmic, drawing parallels to the extinction of dinosaurs to explore how tragedy changes people before they even realize it.

• Books and Bookstores as Symbols of Hope and Resistance
  Bluebird Books is more than a setting – it’s a metaphor for stubborn endurance. Even as the world moves on from print to digital, from indie to algorithm, the bookstore embodies resistance against erasure, much like Aaron himself.

• Generational Trauma and Responsibility
  Aaron is forced into premature adulthood, inheriting debt and emotional burdens he can hardly carry. Forman interrogates what it means to inherit pain and obligation, and how young people can forge identity amid inherited wreckage.

• Community and Unexpected Connection
  Characters like Chad, Penny, and even the lumberjacks demonstrate how help can come from unlikely places. The motif of connection – slow, reluctant, but essential – is woven through Aaron’s re-emergence from isolation.

• Extinction and Survival
  From the dinosaur metaphor that opens the book to the symbolic disintegration of the store, the novel ruminates on what it means to survive past your prime – whether as a person, a business, or a family. The story doesn’t offer neat answers, but it does hint at rebirth in the ashes.

Writing Style and Tone

Gayle Forman employs a first-person narrative that is both intimate and introspective, immersing readers deeply into Aaron’s psyche. The language is sharp and often self-deprecating, capturing a teen’s wry wit underlined by aching vulnerability. Through metaphors – like the extinction of dinosaurs or decaying bookshelves – Forman gives internal anguish a physical form, letting readers feel the weight of grief alongside Aaron without sentimentality.

The tone of We Are Inevitable is a carefully balanced blend of melancholy, dark humor, and fragile optimism. It avoids melodrama, opting instead for emotional authenticity. Dialogue is natural and character-driven, especially between Aaron and Ira, where much is communicated through silences, subtext, or well-worn routines. The pacing is deliberate, echoing Aaron’s internal stagnation, but it blooms with moments of quiet revelation and change. By the end, Forman has not just told a story – she’s built a world that feels wounded but not without hope.