Why can't we all just get along? The dystopian world of Pure is just filled with loathing; the Pures hate the wretches, the wretches hate the Pures, everyone hates OSR and OSR hates everyone.
And when people start hating people, they start playing the blame game—because the world is filled with so much suffering and discrimination, the only answer is to point fingers. And explode heads. And plant bugs in people's eyes. And kill innocent grandfathers.
The people who live inside of the Dome shouldn't dislike the wretches, but should pity them instead.
Whenever we see two new characters meet, there is a certain degree of tension… no matter what the situation is.
Language is tricky under the best of circumstances, but throw in a few radiation bombs and a separated society and language becomes almost impossible. The characters in Pure struggle with vocabulary. What are oysters? What's a briefcase? Why is a pincushion called a pincushion?
In fact, these characters can't even communicate to themselves what they're feeling. This creates an insane level of alienation… both from themselves, and between themselves and others.
Because of their memory loss, characters rely on salvaging certain words from their vocabulary to fit in some of the puzzle pieces of their jigsawed past.
Because those inside the Dome and those outside of the Dome don't have a public way of communicating, the rebellion against the Dome becomes inevitable.
You know what's pretty fun? Being in complete control. At all times. You know what's not fun? Feeling weak and helpless. And you know what makes a good story? Watching the underdog triumph.
There are all sorts of power in Pure; the physically powerful Bradwell, Pressia's powerful smarts, and Helmud's powerful silence. But as a general rule the outside of the Dome is devoid of power, and the inside of the Dome is corrupt with power.
Despite his super-abilities, Partridge is powerless when it comes to working alone because of his feeble mind.
The Dome might seem like it is all-powerful, but in reality it's just a target that is bound to be overthrown.
In the world of Pure, it seems as if all memory is lost. The main characters constantly struggle to pull memories from their lives, and sometimes they even make them up. Even Pressia's favorite game—"I Remember"—is just that: a game.
For people outside of the Dome (and some inside), memories hold just as much weight as actual wealth. If you can remember your past, then maybe you can understand your present. But if you're memory is hazy (like Pressia and Partridge), then you're at the hands of the all-powerful Dome.
Though Bradwell makes a good point that the wretches should hold on to their past, they're actually preventing themselves from focusing on the present and future.
Pressia's love for the way things used to be is not a weakness, because it shows the hope she has to change the world.
Sometimes you just have to wonder, how on earth do the characters in Pure have the strength to go on? Most of the main characters were almost killed from the Detonations… and those that didn't had to live with being fused to something their whole life. They also have to deal with a world filled with monsters, violence, poverty, and death.
Yet, they still persevere, and all because of a little thing we call hope.
Without hope and perseverance, the wretches would all be dead.
The perseverance found in the wretches stems from fear, not strength.
The sacrifices the characters make in Pure aren't your normal sacrifices. We're not talking about cutting carbohydrates out your diet or giving up Facebook for a month; we're talking about serious sacrifices.
Like as in: leaving your daughter in the hands of someone else because she's better off. Or, say, shooting your mother to put her out of her misery. Yeah, these sacrifices aren't very uplifting. But they deal with the real-deal sacrifices that reveal the struggles of humanity.
Many of the sacrifices made (like Partridge's pinky and Lyda's alliance at the end) were made out of necessity.
You can't really call anything that the wretches do a "sacrifice."
Putting your faith into something isn't always a bad move… especially when life is as bleak as it is in Pure. But "faith" and "religion" don't always need to go together, especially in this book.
Most of the characters don't believe in any kind of God or higher power, yet they're still spiritual in their own ways. In many cases, the characters' spirituality is their driving force. They believe in a better world, or in the possibility for change… and many of them even believe in the innate goodness of mankind, even having seen some pretty hideous things.
The spirituality in this book is completely devoid of religion.
Some of the characters (like Bradwell) force themselves to be spiritual.
You won't find a woman who isn't an absolute force in Pure. These women are not to be messed with. There's even a leader of a group called the "mothers" whose name is Our Good Mother. Oh, and these mothers are fused together with their own children, stuck to take care of them for eternity.
The women in this book make the men look pretty foolish at times. Even though this dystopian world still subjugates women and paints the men as superiors, it's pretty easy to see that these women aren't going to take this subjugation lying down.
The women in this book are much stronger than the men.
Only those who have lost children (or are fused to them) in this book truly understand what it means to suffer.