Life As We Knew It — Susan Beth Pfeffer
The importunate person that I am, I did not mull over my sister’s claims that this book is one heck of a mind-numbing tale chronicling a family’s resilience after the wave of an unforeseen catastrophe. The premise has this remarkable charisma that effectively lures you in, but I think the problem lies on the ineffectual execution. Pfeffer completely focused her insights on the family circle, withdrawing much of the occurrences outside the bounds of their home. To rub out these, the dread of the devastation will significantly shrunk to deadness, almost as if the reader will be detached to the real world out there. I did not feel the pang of loss for the deceased characters, or their screeching bellies, for that matter, past their depleted provisions. All I know is that, sooner or later, they will be spared and eventually move on. So why the sentiments? She clearly overlooked the vital “show don’t tell” principle.
The rush of adrenaline didn’t kick in, too. Post-apocalyptic novels, as far as I’m concerned, should reasonably radiate tension and anticipation. Because the world is ending, how am I supposed to feel? Instead, I merely flipped through the pages in the hope of finding something interesting, founding nothing at all.
On a side note, how can someone be so foolish as to even think of her crush and go around kissing guys in spite of the crumbling planet?
Not all had been well, but I would be nice enough to add that one little star for the premise.