Review: World War Z, by Max Brooks

In his novel World War Z, Max Brooks uses journalistic entries to create a post-apocalyptic world where zombies (yesssss!) have threatened to overcome humanity.  His approach incorporates the use of the premise that a reporter is compiling interviews with survivors into a chonicle of the entire zombie infestation from the first wave through the eventual triumph of the humans. 

At first, this 'report' grabbed me with the strength of its unique approach and fast-paced change of character.  Brooks keeps his interview segments short, so each new character the reader is introduced to is only present for ten pages at most; many keep their recollections to only three pages, or even less.  A couple of characters make brief reappearances in the final post-apocalypse part of the story, but the vast majority are gone after serving their purpose of telling their own tiny experience.  The storytellers range in age and station, varying from young adults to retired officers, wealthy people who got their hands and consciences dirty in order to survive and children whose parents tried to kill them before the zombies could.  One drawback to this kind of storytelling, however, is that there is no main character for the reader to attach to; the only creatures that are constants are the zombies, who have no voice of their own (this would have been an interesting addition, had Brooks been able to figure out a way to include it).  With no individual protagonist, during times when the pace slows, there is less of an incentive to pick the book up.  One could make the argument that Humanity is the protagonist, but since that's more of an abstract concept it doesn't really help the reader to be invested.  This is one area that Robopocalypse, a novel with a similar concept, did better - the author gave us a set of interwoven characters to root for. 

As I mentioned, the novel had a strong beginning; there was a wide variety of perspectives given, and the voices were very different.  The ending was also fairly strong, and I enjoyed finding out what had happened to one character, a woman who had been a child when the invasion occurred, in particular.  The tales of those trying to escape, protect their families, or cope with infected loved ones were well-written and emotionally charged.  The middle third of the novel, however, was dominated by military voices, and at that point, the tone flattened out for quite awhile.  Many of the 'interviewees' had basically similar stories, and I didn't feel anywhere near the emotional connection to them as I did to those presented in the first third of the novel because their interviews focused more on strategies and battles. 

Another issue was that the zombies were killed in a shockingly mundane way - you had to hit them in the brain.  This was so obvious that it almost hurt my own brain.  Who wouldn't know that you couldn't shoot a zombie in the chest, when they obviously don't rely on a heartbeat?  Also, there is no notation of how the first zombie was created, or where the disease came from, and that would have been welcome creativity. 

One interesting portion, however, was an obvious connection and critique to the current military engagements around the world, as the sluggishness and rigidity of the American military was criticized in its inability to change tactics and fight according to new, guerrilla rules.  Also fun was the fact that the zombies would freeze solid in the upper hemisphere winters, or could be half frozen into a lake and yet still snapping and grabbing with its unfrozen limbs.  The concept of the undead being able to bob along in the ocean was interesting as well, and I think more could have been done with that. 

I think a main problem with this novel is that it takes itself too seriously.  There is no humor present, really, at all; WWZ is at times as dry as the report-status it purports itself to be.  This is not to say that I didn't enjoy the novel, just that at times it could have benefitted from a little good-natured poking at itself.  With all the short stories included in the larger context, it would have been easy to inject a few colorful characters inside to spice up the longer spells of military strategy description. 

Overall, WWZ was a fairly good read, enough so that I finished it in a few days of off-and-on reading.  Since I have read both, and seen them compared in several sites, I will say this; if you are more interested in personal connections, Robopocalypse is the armageddon book for you.  If you prefer more streamlined, documentary approaches to your end-of-days scenarios, WWZ will be the more fitting choice.

Rating: three out of five stars.  A fairly unique effort with an uneven engagement factor for the sci-fi inclined government-report fan.

Review: The Sisters, by Nancy Jensen

Writer Nancy Jensen's first novel, The Sisters, starts with heartbreak, and continues from there.  The teacups on the cover are a clever insuniation of the how things that are beautiful can be broken; thankfully, they also portray how things that are broken can still be beautiful.

**SPOILER ALERT: It is difficult to discuss this book without giving away a small part of the resolution.  I will do my best.  If you're worried, skip to the bottom for the final review.**

The almost three hundred page novel opens with teenage sisters Bertie and Mabel living with their stepfather, who is a disgusting excuse for a human being, in 1920s Kentucky.  Most readers will immediately know something is Wrong in that house, but the truth of just how awful things have gotten isn't revealed until much later in the novel.  Jensen is masterful at making you completely involved with these girls in just one chapter, and at ripping your heart out as they are separated over a terrible misunderstanding that will affect the rest of their lives.  (I am serious, it was almost physically painful to read.)

Beginning with Chapter 2, Jensen traces the broadening stories of the two girls, and their subsequent families, as separate strands.  Each girl reinvents herself in an effort to escape the past, with outward success, but inner turmoil that is not so easily washed away.  The repercussions of Bertie's anger and bitterness extend far-reaching tendrils in her children and grandchildren, most of whom are, frankly, somewhat unlikable products of the secret horror that has shadowed their family.  Mabel's cobbled family is more emotionally successful, but the guilt and sorrow she carries with her threatens her sanity on more than one occasion as she ages. 

The most difficult part of reading this story is the knowledge that it is all entirely unnecessary.  Had Bertie not been so devastatingly proud, if Mabel could have had just an ounce more courage in later years, had both not been so committed to silence, it all might have been averted or at least repaired.  The greatest sorrow of their lives comes to rest on the reader as he or she realizes that not all things are tied up in a bow, and that the constraints of society and one's own shortcomings really can lead to unrepairable ruin.  It is a testament to Jensen's fortitude as a writer that she allows this to happen, lets the reader squirm, without ever feeling the need to pull the drawstring and provide a tidy resolution.  Life is messy and painful, and she is honest and unafraid to let it be.  I do have to say, though, that in this instance, letting it all hang out to dry, so to speak, was a punishment for the reader.  I didn't need it tied up with a bow, but

*skip here if you are even thinking about reading*

... even if Bertie and Mabel never made up themselves, if in the end Jensen had closed with Grace, Bertie's grandaughter, beginning an internet search for the mysterious Mabel, using the clue that she was possibly seen on TV by Bertie just before she died, it would have been a much more satisfactory ending without being falsely sweet.

*start reading again*

The one problem with this story is one that many others like it have had; I simply didn't care as much about the later generations as I did Bertie and Mabel.  The beginning of the story made me so attached to the two of them, focused so strongly on them for several chapters, and their initial event was so devastating, that little in the subsequent characters lives seemed as important or interesting.  Also, because of the number of new characters grew as the generations passed, it became more difficult to track who was who, and to have an in-depth relationship with all of them.  As I mentioned, several were fairly unlikable, in part because Jensen was probably quite caught up in capturing the ripple effect of the past rather than making them seem like appealing people in their own right.  It was definitely the chapters on the elder generations that I enjoyed reading the most, and the resolution of Alma in particular was rewarding to read.  I felt as though Mabel's character wasn't wrapped up as well as Bertie's, and actually that Mabel's life in general could have been more filled out.  Jensen does an excellent job of carrying motifs through the tale, including adoption, suicide, and the idea that a family is what you make it; watching the results of parenting coming home to roost is both painful and thought-provoking, particularly considering trends in our current society. 

Ultimately, the book does seem to lose some focus, and several characters are just completely unlikable, which makes it a hard go for awhile.  The story of Mabel and Bertie was really what the reader is sold on at the beginning, and the book would have been better had that thread remained more prominent rather than straying into less-developed, and largely unlikable, characters.  However, the writing is excellent, and the initial third to half of the book is so excellent that it carries the reader through the less engaging portions to the final description of what actually happened on Bertie's graduation day; while the basic points of the secret are not a surprise, it heralds a return to Jensen's obvious familiarity and fondness for the initial characters whom the reader is much more closely bonded with.

Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars.  A tale of profound heartbreak, and its aftermath, that is at several points breathtaking; more likable later characters and a slightly tweaked ending would have earned a 5.