The apparent exhaustion of the story prior to its conclusion was pretty disappointing. It is not the predictability and unbelievability of the denouement(s) that bothers me, but the listlessness and humorlessness with which they are offered. I was surprised by the increasing excitement with which I picked up the book after the first hundred or so pages, as Atwood developed a marvelous rhythm, to be broken by the (view spoiler)[ pregnancies, the account of the battle, the inane deaths of Zeb and Toby, not to mention Adam and Jimmy, the half-Craker babies, and Blackbeard's succession to the Red Sox conch. (hide spoiler)] 
 Still, the series is done. I enjoyed each of the books, though none made me especially pine for its sequel. I appreciated Atwood's ability to make me laugh through the end of civilization/human beings (this is not The Road!), and even more so to laugh through the awful preliminaries to our destruction. Zeb is a memorable character, an adventurer with a heart of gold. But I will never understand why Atwood felt that Crake's project had to fail: that is,(view spoiler)[ why there needed to be a beach scene at the end of Oryx and Crake at all. (hide spoiler)]