Harper Willowes is an anglophile nurse as an epidemic of a pyromaniacal fungus ravages the world. When she finds she’s pregnant, and also infected with the fungus, she has to seek refuge and keep her unborn child alive.
The central conceit, an apocalypse written from the pov of the zombie/infected balances a warmth and compassion with a ferocity of spirit and craft. Hill lets his pop culture influences inform the writing, and it adds a percussive layer of character and adds a poignant reminder of what was lost, but he doesn’t spare you the horror.
The worst monsters are human, after all. Hill has a tenderness of spirit which makes the harsher aspects resonate in ways which stay with you long after the final page.
In terms of world building, the macguffin of the fungus is smart and allows you to empathise and invest with the infected, good and bad. Hill also uses different textures of storytelling to build a mutually beneficial relationship between story, language and character.
Ben Percy, in his book of writing essays, Thrill Me, talks about writing which welds genre conventions and obligatory scenes with the language and characterisation of literature. For a nerd in remission, Hill puts this hypothesis onto paper and it sings.
The rights to the book are with a studio and it demands a big, epic production to do it justice. But, if you’re like me, read the book and also the audio book, which is a masterwork in its own right, with Kate Mulgrew giving a performance which makes you ache with tenderness and revolt against the worst aspects of the heart.
It is a great book with heart and horror, it burns long after the last page.
My book Until She Sings is out now.
Ebook:
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07XJRDND8If
Paperback: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1692105566/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_apa_i_4akEDb3FTWNKR
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https://tinyletter.com/mbblissett
What lived here,Sometimes I am prone to envy,Of those who slip away,Give up, lay down and scrabbleBecause failure cuts deep,And you can sustain an infinite amountOf wounds without dying,Here, a place visited,As much a church to meAs any library,But I’ve survived the worst combinations of love and hate,And listen to me,You can too, because there’s a savage,quiet joyin advancing your position,Because the world knocks me off myFeet and I get up,Because I know what a bastard I can be,And those parts of me,They don’t offer sympathy,So much competition,So little reward,But I’m the product of a million year’s evolution,And as much as I love the woods,There are more stages now,And as a bastard in remission,I enter into the fray,Offer my art and soul,Heart and sole,Offered that I’ve been an asshole, tooBut I’m working onBeing destroyed by itReturning, scarred but smiling,And a squirrel climbs a treeGood omensFor the week ahead,Home now,Light and warmth,Smiles which compel me towards the end of the seasonAmbitions and empires no shelterCouldEverContain.My book Until She Sings is out now.
