An earlier book (2011) by the author of The Underground Railroad. He's a product of MFA writing programs, and it's very obvious from his style, which I found overwrought, particularly in the early pages, but toned down some later. Since he's in that world, I suppose it's the zombie book for people who read the New York Times and the New Yorker.
It's a story of a zombie apocalypse (apparently from a virus, but the virus gets the zombies going before the book starts, and the author then ignores the virus as if it's no longer active or contagious, which I thought was lazy). The titular Zone One is the southern end of Manhattan which has been secured with a wall from zombies uptown, and the narrator is a member of a team that sweeps building by building to clear the zone. Whitehead brings a couple of vaguely new wrinkles to the story. First is that all the survivors are somewhat twisted by PTSD (here called PASD, with the A for Apocalypse). Second is that some zombies aren't looking for prey, but instead get into some pose from their life and just stand there, like an office worker at the copier, a repairman at his workbench, etc. The author wants to wrangle meaning from that as a comparison to most people's pre-apocalyptic life, but I thought it fell a little flat. There's some grim humor in the absurdity of government PR campaigning and military jargon.
Ultimately I found it nihilistic. The narrator talks about how all strongholds eventually fall, everyone's luck runs out, there are always more zombies, and so on. Is the point just to remind the reader that we will all eventually die and that everything gets swept away? Certainly that's true, but when I finished I was bummed out. Not really a good read for these days. Or maybe a useful message? I don't know.
It's a story of a zombie apocalypse (apparently from a virus, but the virus gets the zombies going before the book starts, and the author then ignores the virus as if it's no longer active or contagious, which I thought was lazy). The titular Zone One is the southern end of Manhattan which has been secured with a wall from zombies uptown, and the narrator is a member of a team that sweeps building by building to clear the zone. Whitehead brings a couple of vaguely new wrinkles to the story. First is that all the survivors are somewhat twisted by PTSD (here called PASD, with the A for Apocalypse). Second is that some zombies aren't looking for prey, but instead get into some pose from their life and just stand there, like an office worker at the copier, a repairman at his workbench, etc. The author wants to wrangle meaning from that as a comparison to most people's pre-apocalyptic life, but I thought it fell a little flat. There's some grim humor in the absurdity of government PR campaigning and military jargon.
Ultimately I found it nihilistic. The narrator talks about how all strongholds eventually fall, everyone's luck runs out, there are always more zombies, and so on. Is the point just to remind the reader that we will all eventually die and that everything gets swept away? Certainly that's true, but when I finished I was bummed out. Not really a good read for these days. Or maybe a useful message? I don't know.
the hands that guide me are invisible