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170 pages, Paperback
First published January 28, 2013


Whoever made this mess was careless. Everyone living in these times knows the most important rule of conversation: if you have to kill someone, make sure they stay dead. It may be a losing battle, the math may be against the Living, but diligence in this one area will at least slow down the spread of the plague. Responsible murder is the new recycling.Marion demonstrates his remarkable gift as a storyteller. Grounding his characters in real emotion, Marion makes you root for them to save the world even as they simply try to stay alive.
the bad neighbourhoods of yesterday are the new survival buffets of todayI don't know if I chose the right book to read to enter this genre, but I do know that I thoroughly enjoyed this book. So much so that I am now reading Warm Bodies (and...I have to admit...have downloaded the movie to watch afterwards)!

A dead man lies near a river, and the forest watches him. Gold clouds drift across a warming pink sky. Crows dart through dark pines that hover over him like morbid onlookers. In the deep, wild grass, small living things creep around the dead man's face, eager to eat it and return it to the soul. Their faint clicks mingle with the rush of the wind and the screams of the birds and the roar of the river that will wash away his bones. Nature is hungry. It is ready to take back what the man stole from it by living.
But the dead man opens his eyes.

All six are moving toward each other, some by accident, some by intent, and though their goals differ considerably, on this particular summer night, under this particular set of cold stars, all of them are sharing the same thought: Find people.
Julie Bastet Grigio has reasons to sleep darkly. Her life has seen little light. She is twelve years old but has a woman’s weathered poise. Her abyss-blue eyes have a piercing focus that some adults find unsettling. Her mother ties her hair in a ponytail but Julie pulls it out, letting it fall into a loose mess of yellow and gold. She has fired a gun into a human head. She has watched a pile of bodies set alight. She has starved and thirsted, stolen food and given it away, and glimpsed the meaning of life by watching it end over and over. But she has just turned twelve. She likes horses. She has never kissed a boy.
All he can smell or taste or even feel is the scent. The perfume. Life.
So Nora Aynalem Greene is walking. She is sixteen years old, but now she is seventeen. Now she is twenty. She is seeking a cure for the plague, the curse, the judgment— people may never agree on what to call it. She will search for years until she forgets this city, until she forgets that she ever had a family and begins to think of herself as something that sprouted unbidden and unwanted through the concrete of an empty parking lot. But even then, alone in the driest desert, she knows that a rain will fall. It may be a long time, but not forever. Nora knows better than most that nothing lasts forever. Life doesn’t, love doesn’t, hope doesn’t, so why would death, hate, or despair? Nothing is permanent. Not even the end of the world.
"Nothing is permanent. Not even the end of the world."