HELLO ALL!!
Well, it’s been a while (workin’ on the new book you know, along with reading a ton of zombie goodness from some very talented folks!), but I finally managed to get another review done! This time? It’s for the excellent Mr. Brian Pinkerton and his noteworthy “How I Started the Apocalypse”.
(…Heh-heh! And some of you thought “Keep Your Crowbar Handy…” was a disturbing title, huh?”)
Pinkerton’s tale begins (and centers upon) one Chaz Singleton: husband, father, middle aged construction worker, and the most recent recruit into the zombie ranks. Unlike what most of you are probably thinking, Singelton’s conversion was far from voluntary. He didn’t “look” for a way to become a flesh-eater, but was instead a victim. He’s not your average, moaning drooler, either. He can still reason, he’s still got a strong moral center, and he doesn’t want to turn the world’s population into a mob of mindless maggot-heads. Basically, he’s about as decent a person that a member of the hungry dead can be.
((Note: the man responsible for his conversion, (one Dr. Rabe) seemed to be far more understanding, compassionate and lucid than most thumb-sucking, constantly-cackling, lunatics who tend to muddle around with a zombie virus, thereby screwing up the world for everyone…))
As our story begins, Chaz experiences a really, really bad day.
He wakes up dead.
Yup. That would both suck, and blow.
After a fairly nasty meal (which is pretty much “Homo-sapien lasagna”), Singleton is totally focused like a laser on his family, as any real husband/father would be. His only two goals from that point on: see his wife (Kelly) and son (Peter).
The first is easy to accomplish. His wife still lives in their home, but not alone. Speaking as a husband, I can only imagine the absolute rage and pain a normal man, let alone one of the intelligent dead, would experience at the thought. Though not forgiving (and let’s face it, why should he be? she was a bee-yach.), the revenge he takes on the pair is, to me at least, justified. Now, while Chaz couldn’t stick around after a small bite, “dessert” was very, very fitting and rather satisfying.
Don’t for a second think it’s all tartare and vengeance for our dead(ish) semi-hero, however. He’s got a member of the agency that turned him into a walking maggot-farm on his tail, fully intent on changing his condition from “partially dead” to “taking a full-on, dirt nap”. Agent Breck Palmer.
(I’ve dubbed this agency the ZSSAABFAYGS. For those of you who are scratching your heads wondering, that’s my own anagram for: Zombie Super-Soldiers Are A Bad Frakkin’ Idea, You Government Stooges. Just in case any big-brained, pencil-pushing, beaker-heater out there is actually working on said project.)
Let me be clear here: Agent Breck Palmer is a asshat. That said, yes, he has a valid opinion when it comes to Chaz’s condition. You Can Not Let Zombies Walk Around Eating People… but damn man, have a little heart, will ya?’ Seeing how Palmer’s “Let’s Create Soldiers We Don’t Have To Feed/Pay/Heal” project was responsible for screwing Singleton over in the first place, the least the guy could do is not act like a sanctimonious douche-bag as he pursues the fleeing Chaz across the country, fully intent on putting a much needed bullet through the character’s frontal lobe.
Now, to be honest, fiction based on the point of view of the hungry dead wouldn’t be my novel of choice. Reason being, my first instinct when someone says the word “zombie” is as follows:
“WHERE?? OH,F@#%THEREITIS!KILLITKILLIT!!!” (Then move to smash rotting zombie’s head in with a crowbar.)
However. I found “How I Started the Apocalypse” virtually impossible to put down. The plot overall was compelling, I grew to care about the focus, Chaz (regardless of whether or not he’s a zombie and felt a deep, palatable urge to bash his skull in), and I actually wanted to learn how his story turned out. To be frank, I became invested in the character. That’s the best type of fiction, right there. The type that makes you care about characters you normally wouldn’t pee on if they were on fire…
Because of this, I have absolutely no reservations in giving Brian Pinkerton’s  “How I Started the Apocalypse” an enthusiastic and well deserved thumbs-up.
That’s it for this review all! Until next time, drink your Dark in a pint, hold your redhead close and keep your crowbar handy…!
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