Is 'We Are The Ants' A Standalone Novel Or Part Of A Series?

The protagonist of 'We Are the Ants' is Henry Denton, a teenager who's grappling with some heavy stuff. Alien abductions are just the tip of the iceberg for him. He's been taken multiple times by these extraterrestrials who've presented him with a bizarre choice: press a button to save the world, or let it end. But Henry's real struggle isn't just about some cosmic decision - it's about dealing with intense grief after his boyfriend Jesse committed suicide. The guilt and pain from that loss colors everything in his life, making him question whether humanity is even worth saving. Henry's home life is equally messy. His older brother is constantly at war with their mother, his grandmother is slipping into dementia, and his absent father occasionally drifts back into their lives to stir up trouble. School's no better - he's bullied relentlessly, and his only friend seems determined to fix him when Henry isn't sure he wants to be fixed. The genius of this book is how it uses the sci-fi premise to explore very real teenage depression. Henry's alien encounters become this brilliant metaphor for how depression makes you feel completely isolated, like you're observing humanity from some distant planet. The most compelling part of Henry's character is his gradual realization that maybe life has meaning despite all the pain. Through his developing relationship with Diego, a new kid at school who's dealing with his own family issues, Henry starts to see glimmers of hope. It's not some dramatic transformation, but these quiet moments where he rediscovers small joys - sketching in his notebook, looking at Diego's artwork, even just sharing a cigarette with someone who understands. The book doesn't offer easy answers, which makes Henry's journey feel painfully real.

In 'Chocolate-Covered Ants', the antagonist isn’t a person but a system—specifically, the ruthless corporate giant 'SweetCo' that monopolizes the candy industry. They exploit small-town confectioners, using legal loopholes to steal recipes and sabotage businesses. The CEO, Leland Graves, acts as the face of this greed, but the real villainy lies in the faceless machinery of capitalism crushing dreams. The story’s tension comes from the protagonists battling an entity that feels unbeatable, where every victory is temporary and every loss devastating. What makes SweetCo terrifying is its realism. It mirrors real-world corporations that prioritize profit over people, draining communities dry. The protagonists aren’t just fighting for their chocolate shop; they’re fighting for autonomy in a world where small joys—like handmade candy—are commodified. The antagonist’s power isn’t supernatural; it’s bureaucratic, financial, and eerily familiar.

I've been following 'We Are the Ants' since its release, and it's impressive how it's been recognized in the literary world. The novel won the 2016 Lambda Literary Award for LGBTQ Children's/Young Adult category, which is a huge deal in queer literature. It was also a finalist for the 2017 Andre Norton Award for Young Adult Science Fiction and Fantasy, showcasing its crossover appeal. The book made the 2017 Rainbow Book List, honoring outstanding LGBTQ+ fiction for teens, and was a nominee for the 2017 Green Mountain Book Award. These accolades highlight its impact on both YA and LGBTQ+ audiences, blending sci-fi elements with raw emotional depth.

I recently finished 'We Are the Ants' and the ending left me with a mix of emotions. It's not a straightforward happy ending, but it's not entirely bleak either. The protagonist, Henry Denton, spends much of the novel grappling with trauma, depression, and the weight of the world ending—literally, since he’s been given the choice to save humanity or let it perish. By the end, Henry makes a decision that feels more about personal growth than global salvation. He chooses to live, to connect with others, and to find meaning in small moments. The final scenes are open-ended but hopeful, suggesting that happiness isn’t a destination but a series of choices. The ambiguity works because it mirrors real life; there’s no neat resolution, just the promise of moving forward. What struck me most was how the author, Shaun David Hutchinson, avoids cheap optimism. Henry’s struggles don’magically vanish, but he learns to carry them differently. The ending leaves room for interpretation, which I appreciate. Some readers might see it as bittersweet, others as quietly triumphant. The lack of a clear-cut 'happy' ending makes it feel more authentic, especially for a story dealing with heavy themes like grief and mental health. It’s the kind of ending that lingers, making you think about your own choices and the weight of existence.

Reading 'We Are the Ants' was a deeply personal experience for me because of how raw and real it handles mental health. The protagonist Henry Denton isn't just some sad teenager—his depression feels like a living, breathing entity that follows him everywhere. What struck me most was how the book doesn't romanticize his suicidal ideation. Those scenes where he contemplates pressing the button to end the world? Chillingly accurate to how depression warps your perception. The alien abduction metaphor works perfectly for dissociative episodes—that feeling of being taken against your will to some unfamiliar mental space. The relationships in the book serve as brilliant mirrors for Henry's mental state. His dynamic with Diego shows how love can't magically cure depression, but having someone who refuses to give up on you matters. The family subplot with his grandmother's dementia and brother's unplanned pregnancy adds layers to the theme—mental health isn't isolated, it ripples through generations. Shaun David Hutchinson writes these quiet moments of despair so beautifully, like when Henry describes how sadness isn't crying but feeling nothing at all. The sci-fi elements never overshadow the human story, instead amplifying how mental illness can make reality feel alien.

I remember scouring the internet for any news about 'Chocolate-Covered Ants' getting a movie deal because the book’s quirky, dark humor feels perfect for the big screen. So far, no official adaptation exists, but the story’s vivid imagery—like the surreal scene where the protagonist eats literal chocolate-covered ants during a breakdown—would translate brilliantly. The book’s mix of absurdity and raw emotion could make it a cult classic, like 'Napoleon Dynamite' meets 'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.' Fans keep petitioning indie studios, hoping someone takes the plunge. Rumors swirl occasionally, especially after the author joked about Tim Burton directing it during an interview. The protagonist’s unreliable narration and the bizarre supporting characters (hello, the neighbor who collects toenails) demand a director with a flair for the eccentric. Until then, we’re left imagining how they’d film the ants—CGI or practical effects? The book’s loyal following means any adaptation would have sky-high expectations.

I remember picking up 'Chocolate-Covered Ants' and being surprised by its structure—it’s not your typical novel. The book spans 42 chapters, but they’re short and punchy, almost like vignettes. Each chapter focuses on a different character’s perspective, weaving together a quirky, interconnected story about a small town’s bizarre obsession with candy-coated insects. The pacing feels brisk because of the chapter length, but the themes deepen as you go. It’s a fun read, especially if you enjoy unconventional storytelling. The final chapters tie everything together in a way that’s both satisfying and slightly unsettling. The author plays with expectations, using the chapter count to mirror the ants’ relentless march—methodical, unexpected, and oddly mesmerizing. You’ll either love or hate the format, but it’s undeniably creative.

Finding 'Chocolate-Covered Ants' online is easier than you might think. Amazon and eBay are solid choices, offering everything from novelty gifts to gourmet insect treats. Specialty shops like Hotlix or Edible Insects have dedicated sections for chocolate-covered critters, often with flavor variations like dark or milk chocolate. For eco-conscious shoppers, platforms like Thrive Market sometimes stock organic options. International buyers can check out Asian or European retailers, though shipping costs might sting. If you’re after a quirky experience, Etsy sellers handcraft these with artistic flair—think ants suspended in cocoa like tiny fossils. Local confectioners occasionally list them on Instagram or Facebook Marketplace too. Just read reviews to avoid sketchy vendors; not all ants are created equal. Some brands even offer subscription boxes for the adventurous snacker.