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corpuslibris 's review for:
The Reapers are the Angels
by Alden Bell
This is a post-apocalyptic zombie novel that is unequivocally influenced by William Faulkner, from its style to its themes to some plot points and the names of its two main characters, not to mention most of the bit parts. When I noticed the names Temple and Maury in the review, I knew the author was up to something. I might go so far as to call it a mash-up, IF there weren't so many of those floating around after a certain zombie mash-up became a bestseller. And I'd argue that it's better than all of them.
Temple is a great character, and there is a long journey to deliver a body -- in this case a living one -- through a landscape of walking dead, to a family that may or may not still be there. She grapples with her identity, with her baser instincts, with her perceptions of God and duty and right and wrong in a broken world. History is a living, swirling thing, and "The past is never dead. It's not even past." In fact, it's still walking around. Aldon Bell also channels Faulkner when he describes so lyrically the bits of beauty that are always ensconced in decay, and the broad sweeping descriptions of the horizon and the road and the land.
"She raises her gaze and her eyes blur teary in the cool wind and all the lights of the city go wild and multiple, and she wipes her eyes and sits in one of the chairs and looks out beyond the periphery of the power grid where the black rolls out like an ocean."
Despite the fact that it borders on derivative much of the time, I found this book to be enjoyable, thought-provoking, smart, and occasionally really beautiful. I would have never thought that I'd read a zombie novel, but look at that, the pigs are flying.
It felt pretty episodic, which is neither here nor there. And I didn't like the last two sentences. But oh well. It is totally worth reading.
Temple is a great character, and there is a long journey to deliver a body -- in this case a living one -- through a landscape of walking dead, to a family that may or may not still be there. She grapples with her identity, with her baser instincts, with her perceptions of God and duty and right and wrong in a broken world. History is a living, swirling thing, and "The past is never dead. It's not even past." In fact, it's still walking around. Aldon Bell also channels Faulkner when he describes so lyrically the bits of beauty that are always ensconced in decay, and the broad sweeping descriptions of the horizon and the road and the land.
"She raises her gaze and her eyes blur teary in the cool wind and all the lights of the city go wild and multiple, and she wipes her eyes and sits in one of the chairs and looks out beyond the periphery of the power grid where the black rolls out like an ocean."
Despite the fact that it borders on derivative much of the time, I found this book to be enjoyable, thought-provoking, smart, and occasionally really beautiful. I would have never thought that I'd read a zombie novel, but look at that, the pigs are flying.
It felt pretty episodic, which is neither here nor there. And I didn't like the last two sentences. But oh well. It is totally worth reading.