Although there is no big
reveal at the end of this book, which might disappoint some, I felt it
conveyed the helplessness of a post-apocalyptic world with a subtlety that
other novels in this genre sometimes lack, and like it for that.
The bulk of the book is in
flashback, told whilst Malorie and two children make their way down a river,
blindfolded, to where they hope to find lasting sanctuary.
Losing her sister at the
beginning of the story, to whatever is killing off the human race, and finding
the courage to make her way across town in answer to an advert proposing a safe
haven, Malorie found herself in a house full of strangers for four years.
The characters in the house
are a mixed bunch with varying views: from what the enemy is, to how much
longer their food stocks will last, from the merits of letting any more
newcomers in due to the real possibility of starvation, to whose turn it is to
cook and clean. So, as Malorie continues her journey downriver, we gradually
find out more about the ex-housemates and why she had to leave.
When her baby is born - along
with another housemate's, Jessica - there's a sense of mild panic in the house,
as there is in the boat whenever they hit an obstacle or hear birds and animals
on the banks, for the real threat has always been outside. Blocked from view
when she lived in the house, by painted and boarded-up window, blindfolds and
helmets when they did venture outside to empty the slop buckets, retrieve
freshwater or go in search of something better, she’d felt a certain sort of
safety, but exposed on the river in the boat, Malorie is always on high alert,
which eventually takes its toll.
I particularly liked the
sense of abandonment in this book, especially when Malorie's favourite
housemate, Tom, leaves to find supplies and is gone for a week rather than a
day. The sense of loss and solitude created here reminded me of Matheson's, I
am Legend and Wyndham's, The Day of the Triffids, which is praise indeed but
well deserved. I also liked that Malorie simply calls the children, girl and
boy, as if giving them names would make her more attached to them. I
thought this added depth to her as a person and gave the reader a greater sense
of what trauma she may have endured in the past, who she may have lost during
those four long years, and added to the feeling of hopelessness. Why get
attached to a child if all it was going to do is die?
So to sum up, Bird Box makes
you feel cold and alone, it is sad and upsetting, horrific even, so why am I
recommending it? Because it is all of those things, and like
the above-mentioned classics that have that same edge of despair, Bird Box
really is very good.
Four stars for this one then
and a chill down the spine.
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