Who Are The Main Characters In 'The Science Of Breakable Things'?

Neil Gaiman's 'Fragile Things' is this wild, beautiful collection of short stories and poems, and honestly, it's hard to pin down 'main characters' in the traditional sense. But if I had to pick standouts, the narrator in 'A Study in Emerald' steals the show—a Sherlock-esque detective in a Lovecraftian universe. Then there's the hauntingly poetic protagonist in 'The Faery Reel,' who dances between reality and myth. And who could forget the eerie, nameless voices in 'Other People'? Gaiman’s talent is making even the smallest characters feel monumental. Each story feels like its own little universe, and that’s what makes revisiting this book so addictive—you never run out of new favorites. Another standout is the couple in 'How to Talk to Girls at Parties,' where awkward teenage Enn stumbles into a party full of otherworldly beings. His clueless charm contrasts with the enigmatic girls, especially Triolet, who delivers one of the most haunting monologues in the book. And let’s not overlook the mischievous narrator of 'Sunbird,' a gourmet club member with a taste for the impossible. The beauty of 'Fragile Things' is how Gaiman gives fleeting characters unforgettable weight, like shadows you swear are still moving after the light’s gone.

I picked up 'The Science of Breakable Things' on a whim, mostly because the title caught my eye—how could I resist something that sounded like a blend of curiosity and fragility? And wow, I’m so glad I did. The story follows Natalie, a middle schooler who’s grappling with her mom’s depression, and her journey to 'fix' things through a science competition. What struck me wasn’t just the plot but how authentically it handled heavy themes with a light, hopeful touch. The way Tae Keller writes Natalie’s voice—full of humor, awkwardness, and determination—made me feel like I was right there with her, mixing potions and hoping for miracles. What really elevates the book, though, is its balance. It doesn’t shy away from the messiness of mental health or family struggles, but it also doesn’t drown in gloom. The science metaphors woven throughout—like how some things are breakable but still beautiful—gave me a fresh way to think about resilience. Plus, the supporting characters, like Natalie’s quirky friends and her stoic science teacher, add layers of warmth and humor. If you’re looking for a middle-grade novel that’s equal parts heart and brains, this one’s a gem. It left me with that rare, fizzy feeling of having learned something while being thoroughly entertained.

The heart of 'Broken Things' revolves around three deeply flawed yet fascinating girls—Mia, Brynn, and Olivia. Five years ago, they were obsessed with a fantasy book called 'The Way into Lovelorn,' and their shared fixation spiraled into a dark secret when their friend Summer was brutally murdered. Now, as outcasts branded as killers, Mia and Brynn reunite to uncover the truth. Mia's the quiet, artistic type, haunted by guilt but fiercely loyal; Brynn's rebellious and volatile, masking pain with anger. Olivia, the third in their trio, is more enigmatic, her motives shrouded in mystery. The narrative weaves between their past and present, revealing how their bond fractured under suspicion and grief. What I love is how Lauren Oliver doesn’t paint them as innocent or purely villainous—they feel achingly real, messy in ways that linger after the last page. Then there’s Wade, Summer’s brother, whose grief adds another layer to the tragedy. His presence forces Mia and Brynn to confront the collateral damage of their obsession. The way Oliver explores group dynamics and the toxicity of shared fantasies reminds me of 'The Secret History' but with a sharper, more contemporary edge. It’s less about whodunit and more about how these girls navigate the wreckage of their own making.

If you loved 'The Science of Breakable Things' for its blend of science and heartfelt storytelling, you might enjoy 'The Thing About Jellyfish' by Ali Benjamin. Both books tackle heavy themes—grief, family struggles, and the search for understanding—through the lens of a curious young protagonist. The way Suzy in 'Jellyfish' uses science to cope with loss reminded me so much of Natalie's experiments in 'Breakable Things.' Another gem is 'Counting by 7s' by Holly Goldberg Sloan. Willow’s analytical mind and her journey of rebuilding life after tragedy hit a similar emotional chord. The books share that quiet, introspective vibe where science isn’t just a subject but a metaphor for healing. I’d throw in 'The First Rule of Punk' by Celia C. Pérez too—less science-focused, but it has that same authenticity about kids navigating messy, real-life problems.

The ending of 'The Science of Breakable Things' is this quiet, hopeful crescendo after all the emotional turbulence Natalie goes through. Her journey starts with this almost desperate need to 'fix' her mom, who’s struggling with depression, by winning a science competition to get a rare orchid—the cure she’s convinced will bring her mom back. But by the end, Natalie realizes some things aren’t as simple as experiments with clear results. The orchid isn’t a magic solution, and her mom’s healing isn’t linear. What really changes is Natalie herself: she learns to accept the messiness of love and science, and that resilience isn’t about winning but about showing up. The book closes with this tender moment where Natalie and her mom plant flowers together, not as a cure, but as a symbol of growing through the cracks. It’s bittersweet but so real—like when you finally understand that holding someone’s hand through their pain matters more than having all the answers. One thing I adore about the ending is how it mirrors the whole book’s theme of 'breakable' things being precious, not just fragile. Natalie’s friendships, her family, even her own heart—they’ve all been strained, but there’s beauty in how they mend imperfectly. Twig, her best friend, stays by her side even when she’s stubborn, and her dad’s quiet support becomes her anchor. The competition doesn’t end with a grand victory, but the smaller win feels truer: Natalie presents her flawed experiment honestly, and that vulnerability is her real breakthrough. It’s a middle-grade novel, but man, it hits like a gut punch for anyone who’s ever loved someone they can’t 'fix.' The last pages left me sitting there, thinking about how sometimes the best science is just learning to observe and care without needing to control the outcome.

The Science of Trust' isn't a novel or anime—it's actually a nonfiction book by John Gottman about relationships and psychology. But if we're talking about 'trust' themes in fiction, I could geek out about characters like L from 'Death Note' or Major Kusanagi from 'Ghost in the Shell,' whose arcs revolve around deception and loyalty. Personally, I find fictional trust dynamics way more dramatic—like in 'Attack on Titan,' where Eren and Armin's friendship gets brutally tested. Real-life trust science feels drier, though Gottman's research is fascinating if you're into how people connect. Maybe that's why I prefer stories where trust gets shattered spectacularly—way more cathartic than clinical case studies!

Bright, barbed, and impossible to ignore—'The Things Gods Break' pins Lyra Keres at the very center. I’ve been chewing on her character for days: a thief-turned-Queen of the Underworld who’s been handed—or cursed with—goddess-level power over time. Lyra’s the protagonist, the reluctant savior who’s forced into deadly trials beneath the earth and wrestles with memory, love, and the echoes of past lives. Her bond with Hades is the emotional fulcrum; he’s devastatingly complex, the god of death who’s both her anchor and a source of ruinous intensity. Beyond them, the crew around Lyra gives the book its teeth: Boone, her oldest friend and consummate thief, who becomes a god in his own right and grounds her with loyalty and snark; Cronos, the Titan whose arc moves from monstrous captor to tragic, sacrificial figure; and Rhea, whose quiet strength and maternal presence thread through the Titan subplot. Other named Titan figures—like Mnemosyne and Phoebe—add layers of memory and prophecy that complicate Lyra’s task to unlock the seven locks and free (or not free) the imprisoned Titans. The stakes are mythic, and the characters wear their wounds on the page in ways that made me stay up too late reading.

Reading 'The Science of Breakable Things' online for free is a tricky topic. I adore this book—it’s such a heartfelt middle-grade novel about resilience, family, and science experiments. But ethically, I’d always recommend supporting authors by purchasing their work or borrowing from libraries. Many libraries offer digital lending through apps like Libby or OverDrive, where you can check out e-books legally. If you’re tight on funds, keep an eye out for promotions or used copies online. That said, I’ve stumbled upon sketchy sites claiming to have free downloads, but they’re often piracy hubs riddled with malware. It’s not worth the risk, and it undermines Tae Keller’s hard work. Plus, the joy of holding a physical copy or reading a legit e-book just hits different. Maybe save up for it—it’s a gem worth owning!