‘Immobility’ – Brian Evenson (Tor)

It was way back in 2008 when I first read Brian Evenson’s ‘Last Days’; the blog was only just over a year old at that point… I feel all nostalgic. Talk about derailing myself before I’ve even started writing! I read ‘Last Days’ and, despite a couple of issues with the book, thoroughly enjoyed it and wanted more. You can read my full review Here or have couple of paragraphs for free below…

‘Last Days’ is one of those awkward books that leave me completely awestruck and with no idea how to get what I think into a blog post. It’s only a hundred and seventy two pages long but it feels like more as you get deeper into a real corkscrew of a plot. You’re pulled in with the promise of a journey but your final destination won’t be where you think it is and you might have trouble finding your way back again...’

‘Last Days’ is an intense and unsettling read that I’m definitely going to go back to and read again.’

As is often the case with this blog though, not only did I never go back and re-read ‘Last Days’ but I never picked up anything else by Evenson either (despite a couple of tie-in novels of his coming through the door). So many books to read and hardly any time to read them in I guess. That changed though when a copy of ‘Immobility’ came through the door. The blurb caught my eye straight away and the book fitted straight in with my current policy of short commuter reads (yep, that old chestnut again) so there was nothing for it but to get reading. And so I did only to find that ‘Immobility’ was no ‘Last Days’, not by a long way…

Josef Horkai has been awake for hours before he can even remember his own name. He certainly can’t remember why he is paralysed from the waist down or why he was in storage in the first place. There’s no time for discussion though, a man tells Josef that he must travel into the ruined lands outside and rescue something that was stolen before his time runs out. Now Josef is being carried through a desolate landscape on the back of a man wearing a hazard suit and something really doesn’t add up about the whole thing…

What a blurb eh? You have what looks like a good dose of the post apocalypse and a lead character that is just brimming over with questions about where he fits into it all. If that wasn’t enough, our hero has to complete a mission where everything is at stake. What’s not to like? You would think that ‘Immobility’ has everything it needs to be a compelling and rewarding read wouldn’t you?

Well, yes and no.

Evenson sets things up very well initially, leaving his readers really feeling the nightmarish disorientation Horkai feels after he is woken up. There’s a real sense of Horkai as a blank slate, just waiting to be filled up with detail, that you can’t help but find more than a little unnerving. I couldn’t help but think, ‘what if that was me in his position…?’
The problem I found was that Evenson seemed to want to delve into this feeling of uncertainty a little too much for what is only a two hundred and fifty three page book. The upshot here is that you get a lot of atmosphere with not an awful lot going on. You could argue that this is the way it’s meant to be with Evenson deliberately taking his time to show us just what Horkai is going through mentally. I’d say that may be the case but it was an approach that had me looking out of the window while I waited for things to kick off. I’ve always thought that the shorter a book is the more quickly it needs to get moving, that clearly doesn’t happen here.

When things finally do get moving, Evenson very cleverly ramps up the stakes (and tension) without really telling us what’s at stake. I liked that, Horkai doesn’t know what’s going on but he does know that it’s important and, by extension, so do we. Evenson gets Horkai and his two companions moving and then promptly drowns the story in atmosphere again, this time through the apocalypse of the ‘Kollaps’.
You never really find out what caused the ‘Kollaps’ but you are left in no doubt what the result is; miles upon miles of wasteland where the only inhabitants (for much of it) are Horkai and his companions. Horkai’s monologue gets monotonous after a while and the dreary bleakness of the landscape is so well done that it actually doesn’t offer much of an alternative to Horkai’s ramblings. There’s nothing to see, it’s all dead.

Horkai is travelling for much of the book so you can imagine how this all builds up into something quite irritating (in a way). Horkai is full of questions but because he gets very little in the way of answers they’re all the same questions over and over again. Again, all very atmospheric but nothing is really moving forwards.
By the time things start to fall into place, it was almost too late for me to really care. This was a shame as an interesting little sub-plot (long term versus short term survival) starts to spring up although it doesn’t really have time to get going. The twist in the tale is signposted clearly, a mile off, but is brutal and urgent enough to offset this.

A good concept then and one that kept me reading through to the end. ‘Immobility’ needed to be a lot more than that to work though and the overdose of atmosphere rendered the plot, well… immobile. I’d say check out ‘Last Days’ if you want to see Evenson at his best.

Seven out of Ten

‘Them or Us’ – David Moody (Gollancz)

When I reviewed ‘Hater’ and ‘Dog Blood’, I mused a little bit on what we really mean by ‘hate’ and how (more often than not) we’re far off the mark when we say that we hate something. We are though, aren’t we? ‘Hate’ is such a strong word with only one outcome to it; we’re not talking half hearted ill feeling here, if you hate someone then you want them dead and out of your life forever. There are a number of people that I really dislike (some of them might even know who they are...) but I don’t want any of them dead!

David Moody is a man who really knows what it’s like to really hate. He should do, Moody has already written two books detailing the breakdown of society when one half of the populace suddenly realises that it must kill the other half if it is to survive. Both ‘Hater’ and ‘Dog Blood’ have stayed in my head ever since and not just because of that initial premise. Where both books shone for me is that Moody is not afraid to follow that path to its inevitable conclusion, no matter how dark and bloody the path is. ‘Disturbing’ isn’t a strong enough word for the resulting journey but you can’t help but make that trip. After all, who among us wouldn’t want to see the results when an author pulls the curtains right back on his creation and lets his readers see it in all its bloody glory?
It was this raw honesty that gripped me for the first two books and made sure that I picked up ‘Them or Us’ pretty damn quickly when it came through the door a couple of days ago. I had to see how it all ended and, although it wasn’t the ending that I saw coming, Moody didn’t disappoint.

The war between the Haters and the Unchanged is almost at an end but will there be anything left for the eventual winners? After the events of ‘Dog Blood’, much of the United Kingdom is a smoking radioactive ruin and the few remaining safe areas are hotly contested by surviving Haters. The coastal town of Lowestoft is one such area and Danny McCoyne has not only found himself there but has made himself indispensable as a man who can ‘hold the hate’ and therefore hunt out surviving Unchanged.
As the Unchanged grow less in number though, pressure increases on Lowestoft’s ruthless leader (Hinchcliffe) to consolidate his position by other means and Danny finds himself in a number of situations that he’d rather not be in, including a pivotal confrontation that could have immense repercussions for everyone still alive. Danny has a decision to make, it’s either ‘Them or Us’ and there’s no third way...

If you’ve dropped at least one nuclear bomb on your main character (ok, not ‘on’, it’s more like ‘very near to’ but you know what I mean) after he’s clawed his way out of a rapidly disintegrating city, where can you go with him next? The answer is ‘nowhere really’, not when the rest of the country is in the same kind of situation and the war on the Unchanged is becoming a fight to survive instead. The only direction you can go is down and that’s where Moody takes us.

This approach is, for me, the main reason why ‘Them or Us’ feels a little more lacklustre than the previous two instalments. Everything that’s flammable has been blown up. All the people who need to die are pretty much dead. All that’s left is to either carry on fighting whatever is in front of you, and rail against the inevitable, or quietly accept your fate and wait for the end. Danny McCoyne’s story essentially ended in ‘Dog Blood’, ‘Them or Us’ is an exercise in tying up loose ends that doesn’t sit particularly comfortably with the other two books in the trilogy. I wouldn’t say that this is Moody’s fault particularly; if anything it’s a case of following the natural flow of the plot just that little bit too far.

That’s not to say that ‘Them or Us’ didn’t need to be written though, Danny is a character that I wanted to keep on following and ‘Them or Us’ rounds his story off in a manner that is inevitable yet strangely fitting at the same time. Danny is a man who never wanted to be in the position he has found himself in and will do anything to distance himself from the conflict. His ability to ‘hold the hate’ makes for an interesting perspective on the events of the book (and the trilogy as a whole) as it sits him right in the middle of the two opposing factions whilst giving him enough internal conflict to keep him interesting enough to make you wonder what he’ll do next. Being able to ‘hold the hate’ is exactly what makes Danny so important to everybody though and this throws him right into the middle of the plot when he would rather be on the outskirts. I couldn’t help but feel for him and that’s one of the things that kept me reading, Danny McCoyne is a man who always tries to do the right thing.

Moody also gives his readers an interesting look at how life ‘post conflict’ is panning out. The short description would be ‘not very well at all’ but Moody’s characters all live in such a way to make for a compelling post apocalyptic society, with the strongest Haters living off a starving underclass that is too tired to fight anymore. Brief flurries of violence (both against the few surviving Unchanged and each other) propel the plot forwards at a decent rate, and at just the right times, as well as conveying Moody’s message in a stark and unforgettable manner. The war was ultimately pointless as the winners don’t have the mindset to do anything with what’s left other than wait for the inevitable end. It’s a bleak message but one that’s very much in keeping with the overall tone of the series in general.

The final chapters of ‘Them or Us’ hearken back to the more frantic feel of the previous books and not only signed things off in the style I’d come to expect from Moody but also served to emphasise the utter futility of this war. There is nothing left to fight for but no-one realises it as they can’t see past the hate and fear.

‘Them or Us’ is a gradual tailing off of the ‘Hater’ trilogy rather than an explosive finale. While this kills the pacing and flow to a degree, it also serves as the ideal platform for what Moody has been trying to say with this series. In that sense, it provides a fitting end to the trilogy and keeps up the tradition of these books staying in my head a long time after I’ve finished them. If you’ve read the last two books then I reckon you’ll get a lot out of ‘Them or Us’. If you haven’t read the trilogy, and you’ve got the stomach for it, go and pick up ‘Hater’.

Eight and Three Quarters out of Ten

‘Ship Breaker’ – Paolo Bacigalupi ((Atom)

 

I was never very much good at keeping up with all the new releases here before the baby came along; the high profile ‘chunky stuff’ was never particularly conducive to reading during rush hour commuting after all. Since Hope’s been around though... Well, forget any chance of ever keeping up with the new releases; not when you’re dealing with a baby that insists on you wearing swimming goggles all the time (best joke ever, apparently) and views all books not being read to her as a threat to her position as number one most important thing in the house. Oh well, I’m sure I’ll get caught up sometime...

This is yet another very longwinded way of saying that I now must officially be the only person in the world who hasn’t read Paolo Bacigalupi’s multiple award winning novel ‘The Windup Girl’. It’s there on the pile but there’s no way it’s going to get read right now. If that wasn’t bad enough, the rest of Bacigalupi’s work had passed me by, over the last couple of years, so I couldn’t help but wonder just what I was missing out on.
The arrival of ‘Ship Breaker’ in the post (a few weeks ago) gave me the ideal chance to find out just what I’d been missing out on, if anything. Weighing in at just over three hundred pages, it looked like ideal commuter fodder and a great way to get a feel for Bacigalupi’s work without it being torn out of my hand by a rampaging toddler...
So, what have I been missing out on? I’m still not sure... I came away from ‘Ship Breaker’ feeling strangely non-plussed about the whole affair but feeling that if this book was anything to go by then ‘The Windup Girl’ could be worth my time. Confused? I was, at least to start off with...

Oil is scarce in this world of the near future and all the old oil tankers have pretty much been allowed to run aground so that they can be salvaged for spare parts to build the boats of the future. Nailer’s job is to strip copper wire from the innards of these tankers but he’s growing too big to fit into those small passageways and there’s no guarantee that he’ll be able to find work anywhere else. An uncertain future awaits Nailer and the only way to stave it off is through a ‘lucky strike’, the kind of salvage haul that comes by only once in a lifetime.
When a luxury clipper beaches during a violent storm, Nailer’s luck finally changes... or so he thinks. There is enough oil on board to guarantee Nailer’s future but the surviving passenger could very well get him killed...

‘Ship Breaker’ is one of those books that looks like it has everything a book needs in order for you to be able to sit down and enjoy it in one sitting. That’s what I thought when I started reading but found this wasn’t the case. As a result, ‘Ship Breaker’ falls short of being a truly engaging read but what Bacigalupi does give us was more than enough to make me think that I really need to finally pick up ‘The Windup Girl’...

‘Ship Breaker’ offers us a post-apocalyptic landscape where a mixture of ecological disaster and natural resources drying up have reduced a large chunk of humanity to scrabbling around and trying to salvage what they can from obsolete machinery. I’ll say right now that Bacigalupi’s commentary on what we’re doing to our environment is a little too heavy handed to feel like it’s part of the story. Bacigalupi perhaps his voice a little too strongly on the book at times... Bacigalupi’s world is still a world though where the rich can live in luxury and come up with genetic creations like the augmented ‘half men’ who act as bodyguards and soldiers. A world of sharp divides then that Bacigalupi uses to bring the focus squarely onto those who must scrabble in the dirt to survive. It’s a clever device that really hammers home how precarious Nailer’s existence is and when he has to the chance to go for something better you can’t blame him at all for doing it. The claustrophobic opening chapters, where Nailer must work within the bowels of an oil tanker, are a superb example of this and the book is full of moments like these. It’s a harsh world but gorgeously drawn and a lot of thought has obviously gone into it.

When Nailer’s quest for a better life takes him away from his coastal home though... that’s where things started to fall down for me. Bacigalupi has clearly gone to a lot of trouble to come up with a setting like this; using it as the backdrop for what is essentially a ‘chase story’ didn’t quite fit somehow. It really didn’t gel for me, the background setting hinted at something a little more thoughtful than the action scenes that we got. That’s not to say that Bacigalupi can’t write a decent action scene (he clearly can) and the plot had enough twists and turns to keep me reading. I guess I was after a smooth read and the use of two such contrasting elements meant that was never going to happen.

If that wasn’t enough, I found Nailer to be a character that I had real trouble engaging with. Basically, I read the book to see what happened at the end, not to see what happened to him (if you get my meaning).
The fairest thing to say here is that I’m not the ‘Young Adult’ audience that this book is aimed at. The target audience will probably get a lot more out Nailer’s character than I did. Personally, I have trouble dealing with any teenage character that attaches the same level of importance to their own adolescent feelings as they do to the prospect of being torn apart by augmented dog men. Get away from the dog man first, then work out if you’re going to make a move on the potential love interest...
I did feel for Nailer, and what he was going through, but I couldn’t help but think that perhaps Bacigalupi could have handled his character a little more effectively...

‘Ship Breaker’ is a bit of a mixed bag then but the world building is superb, enough so that I’ll put my misgivings to one side and give ‘The Windup Girl’ a go at some point. I’ll be hoping for better things though...

Seven and a Half out of Ten
 

‘Outpost’ – Adam Baker (Hodder & Stoughton)

Another day, another apocalypse on ‘Graeme’s Fantasy Book Review’... Actually, that makes the blog sound a lot more exciting than it has any right to, time for a little clarification I think...
The Apocalypse seems to be a really big deal in fiction at the moment. If you’re not one of those people who were secretly quite pleased that the Rapture didn’t happen (but are already brooding over that Mayan prophecy) then it’s likely that you’re someone who thinks that zombies are cool and can’t get enough of their questionable eating habits. Either way (Post) Apocalyptic fiction has got you covered, offering you the chance to get involved in some of the worst disasters that humanity could go through... and then put the book down for a breather if things get a little too fraught. And that’s where I come in.

Long term readers of the blog will know that I can’t get enough of this little sub-genre as it offers a real insight into just what people are capable of when the chips are down (especially when they don’t realise what they are capable of). I love reading this stuff and will more often than not put whatever I’m reading to one side if I have a chance to read ‘in-genre’. And that’s where ‘Outpost’ comes in.
It was totally by chance that I saw a copy of ‘Outpost’ on the Hodder & Stoughton website and thought I’d check it out. I’m really glad that I did, I think you’ll be very hard pressed to find a post-apocalyptic novel that’s better...

Kasker Rampart is a derelict oil platform moored in the Arctic Ocean, waiting either to be put into service again or decommissioned and scrapped. In the meantime, its skeleton crew keep things ticking over and wait for the next relief ship to take them home. The thing is though; there won’t be another relief boat. Not ever.
Out there in the world, something terrible is happening; a global pandemic that sees people fall on each other in the streets and whole cities laid waste. What is worst, seeing this all take place on television or that moment when the last TV station falls silent (leaving nothing but static behind)...?
The Rampart crew are marooned and must survive the long Arctic Winter before they can even think of making their way home. The potential for starvation and hypothermia are great, the odds of falling out amongst themselves even greater. These dangers are about to fall into insignificance though, the contagion that has devastated the world is now headed their way...

I’ve been reading a lot of books, just recently, that I knew I’d enjoy so the phrase ‘couldn’t put it down’ has probably been bandied about a little more than it perhaps should have been. The bottom line though is that there are very few books, for me anyway, that are truly ‘un-putdownable’. There are loads of books that I can put down very easily, I’ll tell you about them sometime soon.
‘Outpost’ though...? I really couldn’t put it down for a whole number of reasons, to the extent that I didn’t want to talk to people until I’d finished it. I finished it, put the book down and thought, ‘bloody hell...’ In the best possible way that is, any book that can put me through the wringer like that more than deserves praise.

The book isn’t without some very minor flaws but Baker does everything else just right. No gaping issues here, Baker is a man very much in control of his plot (for the most part) and steers it with the deftest of touches to a conclusion that is raw and powerful. You could say it’s predictable even (the remake of ‘Dawn of the Dead’ springs to mind as an example) but the way in which Baker builds up his characters means this won’t occur to you for a long while afterwards, certainly long enough for you to revel in the sheer power and raw emotion of those last few pages.

Baker shows us how powerful his vision of the apocalypse is by cutting his cast off from it almost entirely (well, for the first part of the book anyway) and isolating them in the depths of the Arctic. They’re dealing with a pretty apocalyptic scenario anyway (enough to drive the main character to attempt suicide within the first few pages) and Baker ramps up the pressure on them by removing their only chance of human contact through events taking place in the wider world. This approach happens slowly but surely and before you know it, the crew of Kasker Rampart are facing up to something that is off the scale in terms of magnitude. Well, that’s what you think...

Baker doesn’t give his cast time to breathe before bringing the true force of the apocalypse down on their heads. All that business of trying to survive on the oil rig is just incidental, this is where it gets really personal. What I really enjoyed here is the fact that Baker never actually tells you why things have gone down the way they have; the crew of the rig don’t know so why should you? What you get instead are the results and its inevitable spread; the complete lack of explanation means that you really feel the crew’s terror at the strangeness of what is facing them. It is strange and it is terrifying, believe me, especially when set against a landscape that is out to kill our cast just as much as the contagion is.

All the while, we get to see how individuals cope with the ongoing situation and the rollercoaster ride that people go through as potential salvation is constantly ripped from their grasp. Baker takes us through the whole range of human response and this results in a book where there is always something different to focus on and keep those pages turning. The journey into insanity is the most interesting of these, especially when set against the backdrop of the whole continent of Europe burning...

Funnily enough though, it was this insanity in a particular character that lead to my one and only real (again, minor) issue with the book. The finale is jam packed full of action and I’ll happily admit that this fast pace may have meant that I missed an important technical detail along the way. What I didn’t get though was how a certain character was able to sidestep the dangers of the contagion in the way that she did. I’m positive that a re-read will clear this up but this question did pull me out of the flow at a time when I really didn’t want to be pulled out...

Like I said though, a very minor issue. ‘Outpost’ is a gloriously bleak read that offers you everything that a good apocalypse should and then proceeds to go one better in every area. You should read it, you really should.

Nine and Three Quarters out of Ten

‘Chasers: Alone’ – James Phelan (Atom)

I don’t know if you’ve noticed as well (or maybe I’m just reading too much into things again...) but if there’s a hint of the apocalyptic in a book then it’s far more likely to be ‘post-apocalyptic’ than the regular ‘happening this very second’ apocalypse. I guess this makes sense. All the different kinds of apocalypse have been done but what there will always be scope to explore is how people react to (and survive in) the wasteland that is left over after the bombs have fallen or the virus has escaped from the lab and done its thing. We can’t get enough of that can we? We’re all after engaging characters in a well drawn landscape that we can close the book on, at any time, and feel secretly glad that we don’t have to live there. That’s what it’s all about and that’s why you’ll see a healthy dose of post-apocalyptic fiction featured here on the blog; I love to see how people cope in the aftermath.

Given how much ‘post nuclear holocaust’ fiction I used to read at school (well, it was the eighties...) I shouldn’t have been surprised as I was to see ‘Chasers’ come through the door a couple of days ago. Young Adult fiction can do ‘post apocalyptic’ as well, that’ll teach me. I don’t normally read YA fiction (too much adult stuff to get through first) but the subject matter meant that I was always going to be up for reading this one. It’s a shame then that ‘Chasers’ really didn’t work out for me...

Jesse is on a school trip to New York when an explosion rocks the subway carriage that he is on. Fighting free of the wreckage, Jesse and his friends discover a city in chaos with deserted streets and buildings in ruins. The streets aren’t as deserted as they look though. Others have survived the disaster but they have somehow become less than human and will stop at nothing to get their hands on Jesse and his friends. The race is on to survive...

‘Chasers’ is a book with one hell of a twist right at the end. You get hints of what is to come, over the course of the book, but it’s all done so subtly that you’ll only get it with hindsight. It’s a twist that has ensured that I will pick up the next book to see where things go next. It’s just a real shame then that the rest of the book did it’s level best to stop me reaching that ending.

First up are the utterly non-scary predators that inhabit the bombed out ruins of Manhattan. Now, I know the whole thing about fear is that it can strike people in different ways. I may laugh at your pathological fear of fresh carpet (and apologies to anyone reading who may suffer from this fear, I’m not laughing really); you cannot understand why I’m so scared of wasps. That’s just the way it goes.
I found it impossible though to be scared at all of people chasing Jesse and his friends through the streets because… they were thirsty. That’s it, they were thirsty. Now that thirst makes the sufferers very dangerous to be around (and I’ve probably said enough already so no more spoilers from me!)  but I just wasn’t feeling the fear that Jesse and his friends felt. This was especially the case when it’s established that Jesse can outrun pretty much everything chasing him and this will help take unwanted attention from his friends. Everyone is going to be ok! This may be true but you can say goodbye to any tension.

The bulk of the book is taken up with Jesse and his friends sheltering inside one of New York’s more famous landmarks and I have to say that this part really dragged. There are some interesting glimpses into Jesse’s character but nothing that really leapt out and made me want to engage with the character. The rest of the time is basically spent with three teenagers wondering what to do next. Now you could argue that Phelan has given us a clear picture of a group of kids paralysed by the enormity of what has happened and maybe I’d even buy that. If this is the case though, he’s almost done it too well. Characters settle into their own routines and rhythms and things plod along just slowly enough to make you want to tear your own hair out.

And then that magical moment of revelation appears and everything is thrown into sharp relief… Like I said, this is what will have me picking up the next book; there’s a tale to be told now that is really intriguing. Was this one moment worth everything I went through to get to it though? I have to say… no. You weigh that moment up against the rest of the book and you find that ‘Chasers’ has been setting the scene, the whole time, for what is to come next. It’s a shame that this scenery isn’t inspiring in the least. The sequel is really going to have to up its game if it wants me to be around for the final book…

Six and Three Quarters out of Ten

‘Enclave’ – Ann Aguirre (Feiwel & Friends)

You would have thought that the merest mention of a fictional apocalypse would have people staying away from the book in question and looking to read something nicer instead; something that has ponies in it maybe. It’s one of life’s strange things then that we can’t seem to get enough of the stuff. If there’s an apocalypse going on in a book somewhere then it’s more likely to be picked up than passed over. I’m as guilty as the next man here with more than a few zombie books sat on the shelf.
Why the fascination with the apocalypse? Are we all looking to pick up tips on how to survive when it all kicks off? Are we looking for the thrill of experiencing the collapse of civilisation without actually being in the middle of it all? Or are we just so overloaded with all the bad stuff happening in the world that we’ve all become extremely morbid and are looking for safe ways to reconcile ourselves with our own mortality? There’s probably a little bit of all three going on there with added extras that vary from person to person.
I’ve never read of Ann Aguirre’s books until now but I’m told (by Amazon) that she is well known for her paranormal romances; this may be why I’ve never tried her work... ‘Enclave’ is Aguirre’s first foray into the realms of the ‘post apocalyptic’ (for young adults) and it’s worth a look if you’ve been missing your daily dose of civilisation collapsing...

Who knows what lies above the tunnels and passageways surrounding the ‘College’ enclave? And who knows what drove people to live down there in the darkness? Deuce certainly doesn’t, she has spent her whole life in these tunnels and, at sixteen, is a huntress tasked with finding food for her people and defending the enclave against the attacks of the mutated ‘Freaks’. When the Freaks start to show signs of cunning and strategy Deuce’s already hard life becomes a lot more difficult, especially when the elders of the enclave refuse to believe her. Life in the enclave is governed by strict rules and any deviation from these is punished harshly. It would appear that blind adherence to these rules could spell disaster for the enclave and everything that Deuce does to try and help only serves to push her further away. Deuce is soon looking at the worst punishment the elders can offer but even she could never imagine that it will take both her and her hunting partner topside...

‘Enclave’ isn’t without its issues but still remains a book that I tore through over the course of an evening and a commute to work the next day. On occasion ‘Enclave’ is a little lightweight for my tastes but was a lot of fun and a book that I reckon could appeal to adult readers as much as it would to the Young Adult audience that it targets.

‘Enclave’ weighs in at a ‘slight’ two hundred and sixty two pages and much of this is down to Aguirre stripping things right down and telling the story purely as it is without too much embellishment (if any at all). Not only does this approach propel the plot forward at great speed (at least to begin with, the plot meanders when Deuce and her friends don’t have a specific aim in mind towards the end of the book and these bits dragged) but it also proves to be a great way of giving the reader an idea of just how dangerous and spartan life underground can be. There is no time to flesh things out as that time could literally be the difference between life and death for one of the members of the enclave. Danger can spring from the shadows at any time and Aguirre doesn’t shy away from showing the grim and bloody consequences of this. I loved that approach and particularly how it was reflected in the attitude of the main character Deuce.

Deuce is focussed solely on fulfilling her role in the enclave, no matter what, and as she begins to find out more about what goes on behind the scenes (with the elders) her character is forced to react and develop accordingly. While I liked the outcome of this, the relative brevity of the novel itself means that a few corners are cut and the plot feels a little shallow as a result. A lot of what we have to go on are Deuce’s ideas and theories (as well as a brief revelation from her partner Fade) about how the elders maintain their power and there isn’t enough time to see if these are real or merely fanciful ideas on the part of Deuce. You could make an educated guess and probably get it right but it all felt a little too uncertain for me and not enough to hang a plot from. I won’t give away too much about the inevitable love triangle (you could see it coming) but while I wondered if it detracted from the impact of the apocalypse I did like the way that it was left unresolved at the end. I don’t know if there’s another book planned here but leaving things hanging like that made it feel a little more real somehow.

Aguirre has clearly done her research into just what an apocalypse entails, the aftermath as much as what had happened before. The landscape looks just like you would expect but it’s clear that a lot of thought has gone into what you could still reasonably expect to find in an abandoned store or salvage for use. Apocalyptic fiction cannot get away from being speculative at its heart but Aguirre’s apocalypse certainly has an edge of realism that really works to the book’s benefit.

Issues with structure got in the way of a smooth read and eventually stopped ‘Enclave’ from being the excellent book that it initially promised to be. There is a lot to recommend the book though; a fast paced adventure set against a sobering backdrop with a lead character that I was rooting for the whole way.

Eight and a Half out of Ten

‘Children’s Crusade (The Afterblight Chronicles)’ – Scott Andrews (Abaddon)

It’s getting to that time of year, once again, when the simple act of just getting through the day gets tougher and tougher. It’s dark when you leave the house in the morning and its dark when you come home; the only light you get is the strip lighting in the office that always leaves you with a headache. It’s cold and wet and you’ve got no choice but to leave the warmth of your bed behind as you have no laptop and cannot work from home. Sounds to me like you need a dose of adrenaline to liven things up and give your day a bit of spark...

This is where Abaddon come in with their mission to publish books that do just that. These books may not be deep but they are full of energy and things exploding in the best possible way; something that has kept me coming back ever since I read their first book (‘The Culled’). Whether it’s Paul Kane or Scott Andrews’ work, the post apocalyptic world of the ‘Afterblight Chronicles’ supplies a liberal dose of pyrotechnics and action and has become a series where I know that I’m guaranteed a fun read. Would that be the case with Andrews’ latest though? Not only did ‘Children’s Crusade’ keep its side of the bargain but it also supplied a few shocks when I was least expecting them.

In a world devastated by the Cull, it has always been the children who are most at risk from the various gangs and cults that have sprung up in the wastelands. Things are different now; organised teams are patrolling the countryside and taking children to a fate far worse than any they would have encountered on home soil. If the location of St. Mark’s school for Boys and Girls hasn’t been found already, it soon will be.
School Matron Jane Crowther not only wants to protect her charges but she also wants to rescue the children who have been taken. If Jane is to do this however she must face the one thing in this new world that she fears the most, the horrors of her own past. One thing is certain; the bullets are going to fly like never before...

‘Children’s Crusade’ not only ties up the loose ends from the previous two books but brings ‘The Culled’ and Paul Kane’s two books into the mix as well. What you get for your money then is pretty much the definitive conclusion to the ‘Afterblight Chronicles’ (at least this arc, I don’t know if there are more books planned). You might want to bear this in mind if there are other books in the series that you haven’t already read. My copy of ‘Arrowland’ arrived after I’d read ‘Children’s Crusade’ and I now know how the story there ends. You may also feel like you’re revisiting books in the series that you’ve already read as old ground is covered. I wasn’t too concerned though as I was having a great time reading the book itself.

Like I said, ‘Children’s Crusade’ is a ‘work of conclusions’ and Andrews doesn’t hang around in getting things rolling. The pace rockets along at the speed of the bullets, arrows and grenades that punctuate the narrative with moments of high tension and action. Andrews is also keen to conclude things in that most final of ways for a large number of his cast, both supporting members and the main leads. A couple of deaths came completely out of the blue for me and emphasised just how well Andrews has been quietly going about the business of creating characters that grow on you but are still only mortal. The harsh realities of post-apocalyptic living are never more apparent than in the way that the cruellest of curve balls are thrown at two of the leads. Another main character also dies but, given Andrews’ character study of this particular person, you can very much see this coming in an ‘only one way to achieve redemption’ kind of way. No surprises here but still a powerful ending that’s handled well.

Given that the nature of the book seems to be tie up loose ends from other books, and bring everything together, there isn’t a lot of room for ‘Children’s Crusade’ to have a plot in its own right. There’s a rescue attempt where Jane Crowther must face a nemesis from her past (complete with twist that I saw coming)... and that’s about it. Is it enough though? While there were bits that I wish had been explored in a little more detail (including a real missed opportunity for an explosive confrontation between two characters) there was enough going on that I couldn’t really complain whilst reading. The sound of gunfire, explosions and the screeching of tyres can fill in a lot of gaps and keeps things moving very smoothly in this instant.

‘Children’s Crusade’ does come across as being a little on the ‘light’ side as it sacrifices a more in depth plot to concentrate on tying up the series as a whole. What I found though was that the book makes up for this by really playing to its strengths, resulting in pages that I found I had to turn. ‘Children’s Crusade’ is a fine ending to this section of the ‘Afterblight Chronicles’. I’m hoping for more to come from Scott Andrews in this series.

Eight and a Half out of Ten

‘Noise’ – Darin Bradley (Spectra)

What would you do if you were ahead of the game and knew that society was about to collapse irretrievably? If there were zombies involved then I could give you an answer straight away but this time the undead don’t come into the picture at all; we’re just talking a ‘regular run of the mill’ collapse here. I guess my honest answer is that I don’t know. We can all say that the bottom line is all about survival but how would we go about achieving this? I’m going to be completely honest and say that I would just wing it; I don’t know how far that would get me but it’s all I’ve got right now.
Luckily for terminally ill prepared types such as myself, the speculative fiction is full of writers who are constantly thinking about these things are sharing their insights with us. Darin Bradley is one of these writers and has obviously thought about this a great deal if ‘Noise’ is anything to go by...

After the switch from analog to digital there are a lot of dead airwaves left over, just waiting to be used by anyone with the proper equipment and something to say. There are plenty of people with plenty to say and one of these groups is Salvage, broadcasting warnings of the collapse of civilisation and harsh lessons in how to avoid it.
Levi and Hiram are ahead of the game, they’ve been listening to Salvage for a while now and are ready to ride out the forthcoming apocalypse. When it comes down to it though, are they really ready for what they’re about to find on the streets...?

‘Noise’ is one of those books that effortlessly drags you in and keeps you reading until it’s all over. That was the case with me and I found that I didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter. I had to keep reading, not only to find out how the apocalypse pans out but also the conclusion of everyone’s individual journeys within it.

‘Noise’ isn’t an easy though and for reasons that add value to (as well as others that detract from) the book as a whole. Bradley sets the collapse of civilisation running and then leaves it to his reader to catch up as best they can. The end result can be confusing, to say the least, as the viewpoint switches between what’s going internally for Hiram and what’s happening on the street with little or no warning. Having said that though, you get a real feel for Hiram’s character and what it means for him to do what he does. Getting any sense of the structure of ‘Noise’ can be difficult because of this approach and the book treads a very fine line between being a frustrating read (not to be revisited) and one that you’ll find yourself going back to in order to tease out more of the meaning.

It may not happen for a while but ‘Noise’ proved to be an intriguing enough read that I will revisit it at some point in the future. Society’s collapse is handled with enough atmosphere and energy to send the plot powering forward at one hell of a rate. Like I said, this pace may be too quick but it does an admirable job of hooking the reader right from the outset.

However, the ‘Collapse’ almost plays second fiddle to the dramas that unfold in it’s midst. At it’s heart. ‘Noise’ is primarily about the creation of a new society from the ashes of the old one (salvaging?) and people’s struggle to establish themselves, both in the aftermath of the Collapse and in the creation of something new. Explosions and gunfire are constant but secondary to the explosive nature of the human relationships that arise.

Everyone’s actions are governed by ‘The Book’, a work that details just exactly how you can survive the Collapse and prosper in the aftermath. Every detail is there and people’s lives literally depend on how closely they follow these rules. It made for compelling reading as I found myself wondering just how closely the rules would be followed and what would happen to those who transgressed. Bradley gives a great class in ‘Less is More’ by deadening the physical impact of such ‘final acts’ and concentrating on what it means for the group as a whole. However, I did find myself wondering if Bradley perhaps made it a little too easy for Hiram, Levi and the others by giving them a way of opting out of personal responsibility for the actions that they had to commit to survive. Changing your name is one thing but does it really change who you are? This approach works for the characters but I couldn’t help but wonder if it worked because Bradley wanted it to rather than it working in its own right... Having said that though, the ultimate act that Hiram has to commit, in the name of ‘The Book’, made for an ending that sat with me for a long time after I’d finished reading.

Ultimately, every character must choose between obedience to their group or being one person in a where individuals are picked off by the masses. The end result is perhaps what ‘Lord of the Flies’ would have been if Piggy and co had tried working together instead of arguing over a sea shell; a compelling exercise in the birth of society out of the ashes of disaster.
‘Noise’ is a tough nut to crack initially but its well worth the effort. In a year that is becoming more and more defined (to me anyway) by the emergence of quality apocalyptic fiction, ‘Noise’ sits proudly amongst the very best of it’s kind.

Nine and a Half out of Ten

‘The Unit’ – Terry DeHart (Orbit)

What is the one thing that I have in common with around 90% of the people who stop by here for a read? Apart from the fact that we all love speculative fiction here (apart from my Mum that is but I’ll take the page views wherever I can get them!) I’d say the one thing we’ve all got in common is the size of our ‘to read’ piles. Cue loads of ‘mine is bigger than yours’ comments, does anyone here want to admit to ‘reading pile’ envy...? ;o)
I used have various schedules to get to the bottom of my ‘to read’ pile. These days though, choices are made very much on the basis of how shiny the cover is and how likely I am to be able to keep hold of it on a packed train. Terry Dehart’s ‘The Unit’ held up well on both these scores but ended up being a lot more... There’s always something to be said for picking a book up at random and giving it a go. Sometimes you will discover a real gem.

The bombs have fallen on America and now it’s time for people to make out the best they can in the aftermath. On the face of things, the Sharpe family are ahead of the game already; Jerry Sharpe is a former marine who is determined to use all his skills and knowledge to keep his family together... whatever happens.
It’s never as simple as that though, especially when the other three members of your family have their own ideas and aspirations for the future. Add a psychotic bunch of escaped teenage prisoners into the mix and things can only get worse. And all the while there’s a nuclear winter on the way... Can a strong sense of family overcome these pretty major obstacles?

If I’m handing out awards at the end of the year then ‘best post-apocalyptic fiction’ will undoubtedly go to Alden Bell’s ‘The Reapers are the Angels’. ‘The Unit’ pushed this excellent work all the way though and is a thoroughly engrossing piece of post apocalyptic fiction in it’s own right.

DeHart lets the story unfold through the viewpoints of several characters and, over the course of the book, I was left wondering if this approach was spread a little too thin in terms of delivering the plot.
There were a couple of characters I didn’t get on with (I’m looking at you here Melanie and your constant refusal to accept the reality of your new surroundings...) but I found that while Dehart stayed with the main characters the plot remained tight and flowed smoothly. Using Melanie’s character as the example again, I couldn’t agree with the way that she conducted herself at all but what she did actually contributed to the story and pushed it in a certain direction. When he spent time with peripheral characters though, it proved to be to the detriment of the book. These viewpoints may have fleshed out the background a little but didn’t actually seem to do anything for the plot itself. In fact, I’d say that these viewpoints slowed things down just when they didn’t need to be.

Once I got past this though, I found a lot to recommend ‘The Unit’ to anyone who likes a literary stroll through a post nuclear landscape. DeHart really knows how to tap that well of bleak resignation that you would expect to find in such a landscape and the people travelling through it. The landscape itself is full of wreckage, whether it’s manmade or the remnants of nature that are left, and you’re left with the sense that the world has to just get on with what is has left. You can’t go for a paragraph without being reminded of just what has happened and this constant build up really lays the atmosphere on thick, just the way it should be. Just when you think it can’t get any worse... you get the radioactive snow and DeHart gives us the full force of such a winter. You can almost feel it.

DeHart goes for the same kind of approach with his characters; people who (for the most part) are resigned to the world not changing any time soon and resolved to make the best of it in order to survive. It’s here though that DeHart mixes things up a bit with varying reactions as to how survival can be achieved; whether it’s through living with what comes to hand or just taking it by force. The contrast between the two ideologies drives the plot forward in the best possible way and further exploration reveals that they’re not so different after all. At the end of the day, it’s all about survival...

A grim background with grim situations to overcome forces all of the characters to be constantly on top of things if they are going to make it through alive. This intensity is reflected in the relationships between certain people, the Sharpe family in particular, and gives the reader a real insight into seemingly normal interactions. DeHart is telling the story from inside people’s heads and makes the most of his time while he’s there.

‘The Unit’ is the tale of a family stretched to its limit and if you’re anything like me you’ll be around to see what shape they’re in by the end of the book. The post apocalypse hasn’t felt so ‘post apocalyptic’ in a long while...