Clay and Amanda have temporarily left the bustle of New York City behind and rented a house in a quiet part of Long Island where they plan to spend a relaxing week with their children. Late one night, not long into their stay, they are startled by a knock on the front door. It's G.H. and Ruth, who say they're the owners of the rental; they've fled Manhattan after a widespread and unexplained blackout.
The book delves into tensions between the strangers, and their fears of the unknown; Ruth and G.H. don't bring much news with them, and due to the remote location of the house they are basically cut off from society, which means no news in the Information Age--though in this case, no news is almost certainly not good news.
The book is written from an omniscient point of view. With every line of dialogue, each character's unspoken thoughts are shared as well. The effect, to me, is the distinct opposite of subtle; but despite the lack of subtlety, the story is still mysterious and compelling. The omniscience does not give the reader a complete view of what is going on in the world; we get a bit more information than the frightened group at the vacation rental, but not much more.
There was a nice side effect to the anxiety induced by the book: when I finished reading, I felt a sense of relief as I returned to the real world. So, yeah, we're in a pandemic and America is divided politically, but things could be worse!
Does the cover art remind anyone else of the scene where Barb disappeared in Stranger Things? No? Just me?
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1 comment:
I enjoyed this one but yes, it was intense. I read it a little earlier into the pandemic and it gave me such stress. A lot of people didn't like how it ended. I felt it was appropriate. We knew enough to surmise what had actually happened. Anyone living through a disaster could figure it out. I kept thinking of the Northridge quake.
And no, I did not think of Barb while looking at the cover but now that you mentioned it, it's all I will think of now. I miss that show.
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