So I finally finished this audiobook yesterday. And I had to let it sit with me a day before deciding to post my review. Funny thing about this book. I picked it up earlier in the year. Maybe even last December. I got through one hour and had to ditch it. It was just too damn wordy. Every sentence was like a study in thesaurus 101. How many ways can I use another word for food, air, car etc. I'm a very sparse kind of girl. I read that way, I listen that way, hell I talk that way and most importantly I write that way (poetry wise, that is) I follow the NIN school of writing.
So I decided to give this another go. Thank Satan I did! It takes some time to get used to. But then I just let myself go and gave in. I found the words to be little skittles of zombie gold. I enjoyed the narrator. I found the voice compulsive and drab both at the same time. It was like listening to a grown man on OCD meds that weren't quite fully kicked in yet. I found it extremely...human. No highs. No lows. Just middle of the normal status quo Joe Schmo. The story has no real plot. It's a glimpse into a life after the zombie apocalypse. The mundane of picking of the pieces and in that...being a living zombie I suppose. I'll be honest. This book is smarter that I ever hope to be. It took a while after the fact to grasp what I had read. It's witty but not in the over the top way Chuck Palahniuk is. And morose and bleak but not as much as Cormac McCarthy is. A nice blend of true world realism. Where plots don't develop in a nice bow and in a timely fashion. This book has a lot of great reviews and analysis on its themes and metaphors etc. This review isn't about that. As usual, it's about how it made me feel.
I could live out a a zombie apocalypse. Why? Because I could blend into the survivors just like any other person can. I'm not special. I just have the ability to survive. That's what this book is about. Surviving humanity. It left me gutted. In a soft almost non detectable way. It left me realizing one important thing. One heart breaking thing about zombies. They are us. (George Romero fans know what I mean, right?!) This book is like a kid popping a balloon. But he's too high to realize it popped and sits staring at a deflated balloon on the floor. It's a sad sad tale. And you are too apathetic to even notice the zombie running away with said dead balloon.