The end of the world didn't happen overnight.
After years of societal breakdowns, wars and quakes and rising tides, humanity was already near the edge. Then came a final blow no one could have expected: all the world's corpses rising up to make more.
Born into this bleak and bloody landscape, twelve-year-old Julie struggles to hold on to hope as she and her parents drive across the wastelands of America, a nightmarish road trip in search of a new home.
Hungry, lost, and scared, sixteen-year-old Nora finds herself her brother's sole guardian after her parents abandon them in the not-quite-empty ruins of Seattle.
And in the darkness of a forest, a dead man opens his eyes. Who is he? What is he? With no clues beyond a red tie and the letter "R," he must unravel the grim mystery of his existence--right after he learns how to think, how to walk, and how to satisfy the monster howling in his belly. The New Hunger is a glimpse of the past and a path to an astonishing future...
Publishers Weekly® Reviews
- Reviewed in: Publishers Weekly, page .
- Review Date: 2016-03-28
- Reviewer: Staff
Bestseller Marion's prequel to his 2012 zombie love story, Warm Bodies, is much less ambitious and more successful than the longer book. He doesn't break any new ground—a daunting challenge given the growth of this horror subgenre—but does manage to effectively convey the despair of those who have, for now, survived the zombie apocalypse that has devastated Earth. The narrative alternates among three perspectives on life after the calamity. R is newly undead and struggling to understand his situation. Young siblings Nora and Addis, abandoned by their parents, struggle to stave off starvation and to avoid being eaten in a deserted Seattle. Twelve-year-old Julie Grigio and her parents travel the northwest United States in an SUV, hoping for refuge in Canada, only to find it a false hope. Their paths all eventually cross, but the story lines and the ethical challenges (does one stop to help a suffering stranger, who may turn out to be a threat?) are largely familiar. (Oct.)