End Of The World Running Club - Adrian J. Walker

The End Of The World Running Club is a post-apocalyptic sci-fi piece by Adrian Walker. After a catastrophic meteor strike, an average suburban father struggles to cross the remnants of a shattered Britain - travelling with a motley crew of other survivors - trying to reunite with his family in time for them to be evacuated. It’s sometimes touching, occasionally appalling, and has some interesting thoughts to share on fatherhood, the nature of friendship, and a fresh look at how our world could end.

The shattered Britain in which we find ourselves is rather well done. The use of a meteorite strike avoids the problem of characters surviving in a radioactive wasteland, whilst creating enough social and geographic degradation to pose real challenges. The narrative starts shortly before any cataclysm, and Walker shows us a Britain which is at peace with itself, but perhaps a little complacent. The view of terraced houses, suburbs and corner shops evokesthe warm beer atmosphere of stereotypical modern Britain with some success.

Post-disaster Britain is another place entirely, and Walker applies some considerable descriptive talent to letting us know about it. Major urban centres descend into madness. Parts of the country are flattened, buried, or simply washed away. The scattered enclaves of civilisation include rural swathes, urban centres and military bases, and it’s to the author’s credit that each of these can be differentiated, and also feel real. The rural areas are isolated, poorly supplied, and horribly dangerous. The urban areas are typically heavily damaged, filled with a populace on the edge of madness, and horribly dangerous – but each feels distinct from the other.  It’s to the author’s credit that as the characters march across the length of Britain, each of their stops feels different from the last. That they’re surrounded by madmen, disease, and the promise of starvation or murder just adds a frisson to the proceedings.

Our protagonist, Edgar, is something of a slob at the start of the book. Unfit, living a life if quiet desperation, with a family which exists in a state of mutual  exhaustion. He’s sympathetic in his everyday humanity, in his definition of himself through seemingly petty issues, constrained by everything around him in a life which is comfortable, but unfulfilling.

After the End of the World, Edgar changes. The narrative is, from one perspective, the story of his travel from one end of Britain to the other, looking to catch up to his family. From another though, it’s about Edgar’s transition from a man without purpose into someone with a central goal, and his associated emotional growth. It’s to the author’s credit that they make this shift organic and believable, and more so that Edgar’s struggle with his definitions of fatherhood and his role in his family are approached with a hard iron sympathy.  We can feel for him, whilst wanting to give him a kick in the behind – whilst recognising his flaws in ourselves.  In any event, Edgar is a marvellously believable everyman, and his viewpoint, if not always sympathetic, is thoroughly affecting and rather readable.

The supporting cast range from  deranged lunatics  through people broken by their experience, to the core group of compatriots who surround Edgar. If the book is partly a story of his growth, it’s also a story of the relationship he has with them. Beginning as a motley crew, driven together by necessity, they slowly journey toward being a far more effective gestalt – and the raw emotional honesty that empowers this, and Edgar’s character journey, is extremely well written, and makes for a great read. We get less of a view of the antagonists they encounter on their journey, but the author gives us enough to make them seem plausible,

From a plot standpoint – the broader sweep is very effective. The journey  across the land is an excellent medium for smaller stories, and each of the palces that the group stop gives an opportunity to show  something new in the post-apocalyptic society. The whole tale jogs along nicely, occasionally picking up a burst of speed at critical moments – and making for an interesting and affecting read.

Is it worth reading? It’s not exactly a typical piece of apocalypse fare., but I’d say so. Watching Edgar’s journey toward a different view of himself, his family and fatherhood is marvellous; the apocalyptic backdrop gives it some much needed colour, and adds situations which make this a fast-paced and interesting read.

Interstitial - End Of the World Running Club

Tomorrow we'll have a review of the End of the World Running Club. The central thread is that of a suburban father, struggling to travel the length of Britain after an apocalyptic event, to reunite with his family. It's a well paced sci-fi adventure, with some interesting meditations on fatherhood as well.

More in the morning!

13 Minutes - Sarah Pinborough

13 Minutes is a new psychological thriller from Sarah Pinborough. It centres on the relationship between a group of girls in their late teens, after one of them is found in a river, and declared dead for thirteen minutes, before returning to life with no memory of how she ended up in the river.

The setting is relatively confined – a relatively small-seeming British market town, with a focus on the school that serves it. Pinborough manages to convey the sense of tolerated and tolerable education through her prose. The atmosphere of the school accords with my (admittedly slightly dusty) memories of that time of life. There’s the teacher that half the school lusts after, and the clique of popular kids whom everyone looks to for leadership – and there’s the sense of evolution, as well. The school feels like a chrysalis, a place in which children are finding their feet, and moving into adulthood.

Still, this isn’t Saved By The Bell. The environment is, to put it mildly, poisonous. The cast of teens don’t all like each other – to put it mildly. There’s a feeling that each word, each step, is being judged and dissected. That every interaction is equal parts studied performance and emotional honesty. The world that these girls inhabit is one intimately familiar to school-leavers, one where decisions have an immediacy, a sense of urgency, where even the smallest choice feels like it may have life changing consequences.  Of course, sometimes it does.

It’s difficult to convey how well Pinborough has done here – but the school that her characters inhabit feels exactly right. It has everything that made schools such a joy, and such an awful trial, for everyone involved, and it seems all too real.

The main focus of the narrative is the relationship between Tasha, the girl who was found floating dead in a river, and then revived – and her old childhood friend, Becca. The former is the champion of the popular group, a mover and shaker in a school hierarchy where reputation is everything. The latter is a firm contrast – less concerned with popularity, more concerned with being herself. We get to spend a lot of time in Becca’s head, in particular, and the tone seems pitch perfect. There’s a wry warm, and a feeling of intelligence, overlaying a broad streak of insecurity. This tone is backed up in her interactions, especially with Tasha, the girl whom she was once closest to, who most wanted to impress.

Tasha is a different beast, Initially, she comes off as traumatised by her immersion in the river. There’s a sense in her interactions with Becca, and with their supporting cast of friends, that she’s not sure who she is any more. This personal uncertainty is interleaved with the broader theme of childhood overthrown, characters moving past childish things and into the harder, but perhaps less judgmental, world of adulthood.

Impressively, the text covers a lot of emotional ground. There’s love. There’s betrayal. Both felt with a kind of soaring agony, which comes through the text and punches the reader in the metaphorical gut. But there’s quieter moments too – affection to or from parents, for example, mixed with a sense of their fallibility. There’s a darker strain running through it as well; there’s a lot of jealousy in the dialogue here, and it carries the passion of youth, intermingled with the dread seriousness of adulthood – and  the associated consequences.

In any event, the entire narrative is an absolutely masterful character piece. We get to see the way that individuals think about themselves and each other, and I’ve rarely been so immersed in a character and their world – and, on some occasions, horrified by both.

From a plot standpoint…well, getting into any detail might induce spoilers. The book starts with the mystery of how Tasha ended up in a river and died, though. That mystery is chased through the text, with red herrings, confusion, and even some investigative insight – and as a central pillar of the narrative, ti hangs together, keeps your interest, and also manages to keep you guessing all the way through. The whole plot is a byzantine maze of plot, counterplot, lies, illusions, and mosaics of truth – and it’s absolutely glorious to read, and very hard to put down.

Is it worth reading? Yes, absolutely. It’s got a solid, tense plot and some wonderfully drawn characters, living in a world which feels all too terribly real. Give it a try!

Interstitial - 13 Minutes

Tomorrow we're talking about Sarah Pinborough's psychological thriller, 13 Minutes.
It's an absolute masterclass in character, tension, and tight plotting - thoroughly enjoyable stuff.

Down Station - Simon Morden

Down Station is a new fantasy novel by Simon Morden, perhaps best known for his Metrozone series. It follows a small group of people flung through a portal from London, and into a strange new world, as they come to terms with their situation, and each other.

The world of Down is an interesting one. Our group of characters are cast onto it, as if onto a foreign shore, and with a similar lack of understanding. Morden makes Down feel like a large space, once where getting anywhere is going to take a little while, and doesn’t flinch from the details that make this plausible – the characters are initially concerned with survival, with supplies, with how to acquire and prepare food. It’s a world which, to them, begins as a seemingly endless emptiness. It doesn’t stay that way of course – our cast of travellers quickly meet a host of native inhabitants, some more friendly than others.

Our view of the world shifts alongside the characters, learning more as they do. It’s a land filled with mysteries – one where habitation appears to have declined, and where strange, possibly magical and certainly lethal creatures hold sway. There’s a sense of wonder which Morden evokes, as the characters become more familiar with the world, but not yet of it. Each discovery is new, exciting and intriguing – but at the same time, potentially dangerous. Morden’s world is one sculpted with care. The role humanity plays, the society our party finds themselves in, are all plausible whilst unfamiliar. The sweeping vista that the characters have before them both befuddles and beguiles them, and it’s a credit to the author that it can do the same to the reader.

From a character standpoint, the focus is on a pair of young adults - one a Sikh engineering student, the other something of a reprobate – and their relationship with the world, the rest of the group, and each other. As part of a diverse ensemble, both have their quirks – I was a particular fan of the girl, who is struggling to work a minimum wage job and keep her nose clean to escape detention, and finds that on this new world, she’s entirely responsible for herself. Morden plots out the character journey wonderfully, giving us a troubled, undeniably intelligent, but angry individual, and looking at how they adapt and change in a world which requires self-confidence and self-reliance. She moves organically over the course of the book to be, if not a more pleasant human being, certainly with greater self-awareness.  This shift is done well – it feels like there’s learning and character growth visible across the pages. It helps that she’s a great character to read – largely intolerant of other people’s nonsense, typically pragmatic, but with a central core of compassion  and humanity to act as a counterbalance to these traits.

Our other protagonist is, at least initially, calmer, more sure of themselves. Both character journeys are centred around understanding the self; our Sikh engineer begins more sure of themselves, and finds events conspiring to strip that self knowledge back to a central core, paring back to the essential, and the previously unknown. He’s also quite an enjoyable read – a believable refusal to let go of values which might be a disadvantage in this new world, mixed with an empathetic understanding of those around him make for a gentler, but perhaps more effective character. Again, Morden gives his protagonist responses to circumstances which seem to work – there’s no out-of-the-bule changes here, more a series of gradual movements as he becomes something new – perhaps even something heroic.

The protagonists have a fairly small but marvellously portrayed supporting cast around them. I particularly enjoyed the Slavic railywayman who accompanies the engineering student  - his caustic comments and ruthlessness made for a nice contrast to the more humane central duo. The remainder of the commuter group gets a bit of time, but is largely overshadowed by that given to the antagonist; I won’t go into detail here for fear of spoilers, but fond that their driving goal, and the logic behind it, felt believable, if not exactly sympathetic.

The plot starts frantically, as our cast make their way to Down station; the frenetic pace slows a little as our group explores the world in which they find themselves, but spikes of danger and the excellent characterisation kept me turning pages. As the group moves inland, however, the narrative takes off.
There’s magic, murder, betrayal, and a series of revelations which shifted they way I thought about the characters, and the world. I’ll say no more, to avoid spoilers, but the journey that our heroes take through the world of Down is fraught, intriguing, and thoroughly compelling – I couldn’t put it down .
Is it worth reading? The world is an interesting and well realised one. The central characters are believable and feel entirely human (though I would like to see more of the supporting cast in the sequel). The plot rattles along nicely, and kept me enthralled to the last page – so yes, I’d say so.

Interstitial - Down Station

On Monday, we'll be looking at Simon Morden's "Down Station", a fantastical novel in which a group of commuters and railway employees find the,selves stranded in a strange new world. There's magic, excitement, chases, swordfights, and a lot of fantastically written and diverse characters thus far.

More on Monday.

The Shards Of Heaven - Michael Livingston

The Shards of Heaven is a historical fantasy by Michael Livingston. Set during the struggle for power after the death of Julius Caesar, it merges that period of historical conflict with more fantastical elements.

The world of The Shards of Heaven is at once familiar and alien. Livingston does a great job of showing us the humanity of his characters, whilst lending them enough attitudes from the period to make them feel unusual. In any event, this is the world of Rome Unconquered, moving inevitably from Republic to Empire. Though Rome itself gets less time than I’d expected, it has a palpable presence through the rest of the text as an idea, as a state of mind. There’s a cruel vitality to Livingston’s Rome – a power which will shape the world.

We also spend quite a bit of time in Egypt. Livingston gives us a more languid contrast to Rome, an Empire perhaps overly sure of its power. There are sections set in Alexandria which set out to show a bustling metropolis – with some success. They also show a world ensconced in protocol, with elaborate ceremony sitting alongside wavering heat hazes and scholars in the Great Library.

Livingston’s prose is spare, but effective; he manages to make the period environment feel alive, without becoming over-elaborate. Moving from Egypt to Rome, from battlefield to library, each feels concrete, the backdrop to our protagonists actions made believable by them, and also reinforcing them. It may rely a little on the reader filling in the blanks with their own conceptions of the period, but overall, it’s a well crafted display of the Roman world on the cusp of change.

Speaking of characters – this is a text which isn’t afraid to make use of historical personages. Augustus, Caesarion, Anthony, Cleopatra and a host of others make appearances, some more fleeting than others. The main focus, however, is split between Caesarion and Juba, a fictional adopted brother of Augustus.  Juba is a wonderfully conflicted character. Adopted as a child after a Roman conquest, he has close familial ties with the highest society that Rome can offer. At the same time, he remembers his natural father, and the devastation wreaked on his home by the legions of Rome. This raises a conflict of identity which at ones drives and torments him, as he becomes ever more ruthless in service to his goals.

Caesarion, by contrast, is a rather more familiarly heroic figure. He’s uniformly pleasant, enjoying the company of guards, equals, and his younger relatives. I suspect he’s also kind to small animals. He’s less conflicted about his role, though more impacted by the events of the text. That said, each of the decisions we’re given from him makes sense, and he feels more like a person than an archetype – still, I’m hoping there’s room for a bit more complexity in any sequel. He works as a character by being intelligent and intelligently written, and being sympathetic; there’s hidden depths there as well, it would have been nice to see more of them.

Both characters are ably assisted by a sprawling supporting cast. Again, it would be great to see some of these characters given more room to grow into themselves – Caesarion’s precocious younger sister, for example, is a delight to read; her scenes are filled with some clever dialogue, and some even cleverer actions. Still, overall they serve their purpose, giving us context and texture for the world and the protagonists.

The plot starts a little slowly, though the pacing begins to pick up about halfway through the text. The inclusion of the magical elements in amongst the historical is a bit clunky; there’s a lovely section in the back half of the book where a more minor artefact is located in a very organic way, which I wish had been shown as an approach elsewhere. Still, the magic, when used, makes for some quality action scenes. There’s some great battles in here too, and the character drama is entirely believable. I applaud the scope of the author’s narrative, and their technical prowess in making their battles feel  like the reader is right there in them; I would have liked a few more character scenes, but what was there worked to keep the story rolling. In the end, the historical sections felt authentic and compelling, and carried the necessarily less authentic scenes with magical artefact shenanigans.

Is this worth reading? If you’re in the mood for a historical novel laced with fantastic elements, I’d say so. The plot’s an interesting read, the world feels close enough to the Antique period to be believable, and the characters are authentic and entertaining. It has a few flaws, but the text, overall, is definitely worth your time.