Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel

Originally posted 2016-08-27 12:00:50.

This book pained my soul. I knew it would. I hate post-apocalyptic stuff, but the back flap of Station Eleven mentioned something about Shakespeare, so I read it. Fail. 

Station Eleven is set up to be a series, at least it seems to be. There is a big flu (how original) that wipes out most of mankind. Twenty years down the road, humanity is in shambles but re-situating itself amongst this new reality. A group of performers and musicians travel the country in a caravan performing musical pieces and crude Shakespearean productions. The arts live on long after society has perished. It sounds more impressive than it is.

This is just another case of characters that no one cares about. Here is an eclectic gathering of individuals that should inspire and, at the very least, interest the reader. I zoned out for at least 75% of this book. No one was appealing. The only character to be vaguely interesting died prior to the start of this epidemic, so the tolerable portions of this book correspond with his story.

I am so angered by this book because its basis is that of The Stand, the very best of the post-apocalyptic books. If you start reading a book that starts with a massive flu killing off most of the population, stop reading it immediately and go buy The Stand. You’re welcome.

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