I love that feeling when you’re in a bookshop and one of the store assistants wanders over when you have a book in your hand, deliberating on the purchase, and nods in approval. This is what happened when I picked up Station Eleven in Waterstones in Piccadilly Circus.
When I wander into the sci-fi and fantasy areas of the bookshop I sometimes wonder if I’ll emerge with my street cred in tatters. Yet I would happily risk this to recommend this book to you.
This book is more than your average zombie apocalypse story; for one thing there’s no zombies. But there is plenty of apocalypse. I found myself panicking and my heart racing as I turned each page, wondering what I would do if a deadly strain of virus had picked off the majority of this world’s population. Would I lock myself away? Head for the countryside? Seek comfort with others and risk infection?
I now act as an ambassador for Station Eleven, and when I see a deliberator in Waterstones in Piccadilly Circus, I’ll be there nodding in approval.
Station Eleven: Emily St John Mandel