Maybe I've just read too many post apocalyptic books lately... or maybe I've just read the best of the best and now no one will ever measure up to Station Eleven (read it if you haven't; amazing piece of literature!). I was moved by Station Eleven, excited to tell everyone I knew about it and loved the side stories and philosophy. In this book the most moved I felt was to close the book and do something else. Or men sat in the corner, like me, trying to sleep off the nine pints of strong lager that were still dribbling through an empty stomach. He hates those kinds of people, he says more than once, those people who wear shiny, tight clothes and have sleek muscles. Edgar Hill is overweight, self-absorbed, lazy, selfish, indifferent. In a sort of grand comeuppance, the universe rains down the apocalypse from the sky on Edgar's cozy little life (after he completely ignores warnings of the possibility for weeks) and destroys everything. Now Edgar has to learn to survive in a world where nothing comes easily...where death lurks around corners....where some survivors go insane or turn almost feral...where he has to truly work to save his wife and children. Edgar finds himself running a race across the UK to find his family after they are separated by an international task force rescuing survivors. Edgar has to find strength and endurance that seems impossible while battling evil, physical pain and the elements.

I saw people at windows, woken by the siren. Tangled bathrobes, puffy, confused faces frowning in the light. The sun that had seemed so warm and welcoming before was now vivid and terrible. I am not a fan of a book that has you believe one premise throughout the entire book; only to throw that awry at the end. There was absolutely no reason for the moment of possible uncertainty that was written in. It's like it was put there because book clubs would salivate over it; not because it made sense to the story or added to the ending in any way. Additionally it felt forced and that is a huge pet peeve for me. Endings should make sense. There can be twists or reveals, of course, but they need to make sense and feel natural. Exzessiv mit fragiler Männlichkeit und Vaterschaft beschäftigt. Wenn man für die Dystopie konstatiert, dass sie immer Bruchstellen markiert, diffuse Bedrohungsszenarien bündelt (gesellschaftliche Strukturen, die jeden Moment zusammenbrechen könnten; die bedrohte Kleinfamilie; das kaputte Eigenheim; die bedrohte Nation), so ist es hier das Mann-Sein und die Vaterschaft, die quasi von oben zertrümmert werden. On the upside, towards the end I did start to care a little about a couple of the survivors. But really only a smidgen. In summary, I found this to be over-long and poorly conceived. If you're a fan of this type of tale then take it from me, there’s much better stuff out there. About two and a half stars but rounded down due to the hollering.

I thought I saw some eyes dart at me through the glass panel of the door into the house, but when I looked again, they were gone. I was only halfway to the age when it’s OK to feel lethargic, cold, bitter, and confused, and yet I felt those things every minute of every day. I was overweight. I ate double portions, drank double measures, avoided exercise. I was inflating like a balloon on an abandoned gas cylinder. My world perplexed me—every day was a haze of confusion. No!” said Jabbar, stepping out and squashing me against the wall with his shoulder. “Get out of my house! Get out!”

Are you ready for this? The four things that were great are also the same four things I hated. Let me explain: My favorite part about this book is how Edgar comes to terms with running. The author obviously understand what it takes to motivate a body that has been sedate to run and then keep on running.I once saw a film about a girl who survives an apocalyptic event. It was some unnamed worldwide cataclysm; we weren’t told the details. She lives on this farm in middle America, and when it all starts happening, the first thing her father does is turn on all the taps in the house. She says, “What’s happening, Daddy?” and he replies, “I don’t know, honey; I don’t know,” and starts pelting around the rooms filling baths and sinks.

I loved that the lead character is an average 30-something man, Edgar. A father to two small children, with a wife, a moderate house, and a job he goes to because he must. He's the archetype of the regular middle class Joe existing in a first world society. Alice’s bunnies went everywhere with her. In bed, in the car, on the sofa, at the table, at nursery. Everywhere. When she had a fall or when she was tired or when she was scared, they were her only source of comfort. There are no women in this story who aren't meek, psychotic or all of the above, minus Ed's wife, and his friends are all middle aged or elderly men.Edgar meets many people in his run across the country, from Harvey to Lord Bartonmouth. What did they all contribute to Edgar’s transformation, and who do you think was the most important? When two of the men betray them and abscond with their only vehicle, Ed decides to make the last several hundred miles by running.