Is it weird that I've been emotionally invested in fictional teenagers surviving on a post-apocalyptic Earth while simultaneously trying to keep my own children from destroying our perfectly habitable suburban home?
I finished Homecoming during Sophie's nap time—which, miracle of miracles, actually happened three days in a row this week. And honestly? This book hit different when you're a mom. All these kids fighting for survival, making impossible choices, trying to protect each other while adults keep making everything worse. I kept wanting to hand them juice boxes and tell them it's going to be okay.
When Your Spaceship Drama Meets Your Minivan Drama
So here's the thing about book three in The 100 series—you're either already invested in these characters or you're not. And I am. Embarrassingly so. Clarke trying to save everyone while worrying about her parents? Bellamy running from his past? Wells trying to lead when nobody wants to follow? It's messy and dramatic and exactly the kind of escapism I need when I'm hiding in my car in the garage pretending I don't hear the chaos inside. Though honestly, sometimes I need a different kind of escape—like when I listened to Grimms' Fairy Tales and got to revisit the stories I'm already reading to my kids at bedtime, just without the interruptions.
The new dropships arriving from the dying Colony adds this whole layer of urgency that kept me actually paying attention through 47 pauses (yes, I counted). The oxygen running out up there, the desperate scramble to get to Earth, Glass's storyline weaving through it all—Morgan knows how to keep plates spinning without dropping them.
What surprised me was how different this feels from the TV show. Same basic premise, but the book characters have their own thing going on. I'd watched a few episodes with my husband (back when we had time for things like watching TV together, ha), and the book version of Bellamy especially feels like a different person. Not better or worse, just... different. If you're coming in expecting the show, adjust your expectations.
Justin Torres Does the Heavy Lifting
Here's where I have to be honest—the research I did on Justin Torres's narration didn't give me a ton of specifics to work with. No one was screaming about pronunciation issues or weird audio quality, which in the audiobook world is basically a compliment. He carries the story without getting in the way, which is exactly what you need for a book with this many POV characters.
At 7 hours and 30 minutes, this is the perfect length for my week. Not so long that I forget what happened between listening sessions, not so short that it feels like a rip-off. I bumped it to 1.25x and it flowed fine—the pacing is quick enough that you're not losing anything by speeding up a bit.
The Bellarke of It All
Okay, I'm just going to say it: Bellarke is totally a ship and I'm on board. The tension between Bellamy and Clarke, the way they keep circling each other while the world falls apart around them—it's giving me the emotional payoff I need without being so romance-heavy that I'd be embarrassed if someone overheard it at school pickup.
The stakes feel real in this one. The Vice Chancellor showing up with armed guards, Wells trying to hold onto authority he never really had, Bellamy's past catching up with him—there's actual consequence happening. These aren't just teenagers playing house in the woods anymore. They're fighting for something, and Morgan makes you feel like they might actually lose.
Who's This Actually For?
If you've read the first two books, you're obviously going to listen to this one. If you haven't, start at the beginning—you'll be lost otherwise. Skip this if you need literary fiction or can't handle YA romance mixed with your survival drama. But for those of us already invested in whether these kids make it? Car time approved. Nap time approved. Worth the credit.
The Juice Box Verdict
Look, this isn't going to change your life or make you rethink your existence. It's YA sci-fi with romance and drama and teenagers making questionable decisions. But sometimes—especially when you've spent your morning negotiating with a two-year-old about why we can't eat crayons—you don't need groundbreaking. You need satisfying.
Homecoming delivered exactly what I wanted: characters I care about, enough action to keep me awake, and an ending that didn't make me ugly-cry at school pickup. (I may have gotten a little misty during one scene, but I was alone in the car, so it doesn't count.)
My book club would probably roll their eyes at this choice, but joke's on them—I don't have time for book club anyway.
