I just finished a book called Station Eleven, by Emily St. John Mandel (Picador, 2014). It was not the glowing reviews (and there are many) that caught my interest, but the fact that it’s an apocalyptic novel, as is my Green Blood Rising. Emily got rid of most of the human population, as I did, and I wanted to see how our methods compared.
Her population died of a fatal virus. Mine died because of the enhanced electrical power of trees. I focused on one extended family. Emily focused on half a dozen unrelated people, though they are connected in a more or less casual way by events immediately preceding the epidemic. Both books, as a friend described it, “go into the future backwards.”
Station Eleven is a very good read and I recommend it. Oh, and by the way, the author was born on an island on this west coast of mine, though she now lives and writes in New York.
Finally, to give you a smile over your Sunday morning coffee, a cat haiku:
My brain: walnut-sized.
Yours: largest among primates.
Yet, who leaves for work?