I’ve hacked my way through to page 461 so far. I can be a very stubborn Mango, especially when I’m confronted with a book that is supposed to be so awesomely great.
I slogged my way through two hundred seven pages of character development (one of the characters is actually interesting), talking about a newly discovered comet, talking about making a documentary about the comet, making a documentary about the comet (featuring interviews with astronomers who apparently don’t know much about astronomy or comets), all of which was written in such fashion as to make me put the book down and read The Princess Bride just to reconvince myself that reading can be fun, interesting, and a worthwhile endeavor.
Finally, on page 208, after a lot of boring lead-up, the comet hits the earth. A mildly interesting chapter or two about people’s initial reactions to the comet hitting, then a couple of hundred pages of people driving around in the rain. Occasionally someone gets shot, or shot at, or laid, but it’s mostly driving around in the rain, walking around in the rain, standing around talking in the rain, and driving around in the rain some more.
Finally, somewhere after page four hundred or so, the book is starting to go into the societal breakdowns, how the more settled survivors are coping with, or failing to cope with refugees and nomadic bands of raiders and looters. There is cannabilism going on, and I don’t mean eating the corpses of the dead, but actual shooting and killing people for food. I think that was just thrown in for shock value,(Um, Larry? Yeah, Jerry? We’re writing an awfully boring book here, think maybe we should do something to spice it up? Sure, how 'bout a roving band of ex-military guys turning cannibal? Yeah, I think that would work) since there still seems to be enough meat on the hoof to be caught and killed that people wouldn’t be desparate enough to resort to it, and the people engaging in it have the weapons and ammo necessary to shoot a deer or stray cow or pig or hell, some rabbits.
I had really hoped that by this stage in the book, we’d be examining how the remains of civilization, the majority of whom had no real survival skills (farming, ranching, hell, hunting or fishing) would be coping with the fact that all of the stored food had been eaten, what few crops they’ve managed to plant have either died or are months away from being ready for harvest, and, hey, what’s that big-ass glacier doing where most of the country’s arable land used to be? Instead, they’re still talking about, what are we going to do when the food runs out. And getting rained on.
So, why do so many people seem to think that this is such an awesomely great novel about the Apocalypse?
Or am I just spoiled because I read A Canticle For Liebowitz first?