Rating:

“But a madman at ease is safer than a sane woman unsettled.”

Author: Josh Malerman

It’s been 12 years since the events in Bird Box when Malorie and her two children traveled, blind folded, up a treacherous river towards hope. Since then, the flame of optimism has been extinguished. Malorie and her children, girl (Olympia) and boy (Tom), now live in complete isolation. Malorie is paranoid. She will do whatever it takes to keep her children alive, even if that means killing her son’s dreams, his experiments, his hopes for a world of site, of people. This all changes when a traveling man comes by with news. He presents a hope that even Malorie cannot resist, and another impossible journey calls.  Like before, this journey could offer a new chance not just for survival, but for life. Or it could offer insanity and then death.

Bird Box left us with a sense of hope; perhaps humanity could find a new normal, could move on, despite the creatures. Malorie kills that within the first few pages. The school for the blind is only a temporary haven, and the opening scenes show chaos and the beginning of a new fear. Malorie witnesses a blind woman encounter a creature and become mad. Hell is breaking loose; the creatures are in the building. It must be more than just seeing one that can twist a person’s mind. Insanity must be transmitted by their touch too. Malorie risks it all, again, to gather her children and flee. This time, she is determined not to seek help. It’s too risky. Survival equals isolation.

Fast forward many years, and you have two dissolute teens. Olympia is the good kid; Malorie is the pain-in-the-ass, paranoid, abusive, nut-ball, hermit, adult; and Tom is the-drive-you-crazy, scatter-brained teen. All three of them spend their days surviving, arguing, and misunderstanding each other. For several hundred pages. That’s it. Despite everything Malorie has told them, Tom somehow thinks that at 17, he has some way to look through glasses that will let him see a creature safely. Because of course a 17-year-old with no scientific knowledge can fix a problem that destroyed all of humanity. . . Thus begins the angst between wise, just-want-to-live-life-teen and kill-the-joy, survivalist adult.

*spoiler alert *

Tom’s super simple, really dumb two-way mirror idea actually works and saves humanity. It’s . . . it’s so dumb. Why did no scientist ever try this back when the first catastrophe was happening?

*end spoiler*

Image by Eris from Pixabay

But, despite the bickering and irritating characters, Malerman can write, and he has a clever established premise here, so we go along for the ride. The blind train is a cool idea too, as is the census taker who brings Malorie a promise that some of the people she left behind might have survived as well. While the family bickers across the country, Malorie faces her own inner demons and the meaning of living versus surviving (queue Hallmark channel vibes) and an old nemesis who never should have come back arrives, taking the improbable into the stupid . . .

*spoiler alert*

The crazy Gary is back, and maybe not so bad or not so crazy? He has ties to crazy people, for sure, but they are also kind of, maybe right, and they are looking to really live. Plus, they try the kid’s super clever two-way glass idea that solves all the world’s problems. You decide.

*end spoiler*

So – rollup: Dumb teenage drama, improbable resolution, logical faults galore, why the fairly high rating? Because its Malerman, and the man can tell a story. I pointed out the flaws, laughed about them, and then lunged in and turned the page, desperate to see what happened next. I can’t explain it. The story had enough holes for a Swiss cheese, but Malerman’s storytelling magic was still there. I still cared about the characters, even the dopey teens, and wanted to see the resolutions, lessons learned, and see everyone hug it out. I don’t know. You tell me what’s wrong with me.

Does Malorie even remotely compare to the sheer genius of Bird Box book? No. Does it deserve to even be in the same series. No. Did I still have a good time reading it? Yeah. Do I remotely know why? Not really, no. Read at your own risk, dear reader. Maybe seeing the pages (or ok, the audiobook cover,) did something to my mind.

 

– Frances Carden

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Frances Carden
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