I’m one of those people who reads multiple books at once, and I just end up finishing which ever one keeps me interested the longest, first.
The other day I picked up my sweet little gunmetal gray 3rd generation Kindle and shopped the store for some self-published science fiction.
Instead I found this book, Winter Fall, which I guess falls into sci-fi’s realm, but it’s more an natural disaster / survival thriller. Truth is I’ve been way more into thrillers lately than my horror minded heart would like to admit.
Here’s the book description from Goodreads:
On August 1st, 2019, the Yellowstone Supervolcano erupts in its most cataclysmic eruption ever, unleashing a scene of destruction such as humankind has never seen and triggering a civilization-ending volcanic winter.
The Durant family, taking an idyllic vacation to Yellowstone on the eve of its mighty eruption, are forced to fight for their lives as they make a hair-raising escape from the exploding supervolcano. They’re able to reach a place of relative safety at the homestead of a relative, only to realize their struggles are just beginning …
Join the Durants as they embark on an epic, hard-fought struggle for survival against all odds in a ruined, frozen landscape beset by hunger, lawlessness and civil war.
I liked this book. I didn’t love it. I read it quickly, in three or four nights, because the story was fast paced and it kept me wanting to know more.
I thought that the plot was premise were great, the pacing was excellent, and the scientific parts were believable to me. But keep in mind I am not very sciencey so I wouldn’t know what is possible and what is unfathomable. In these sorts of books, I like to suspend my disbelief anyway. I tell myself it’s fiction and anything can happen, and it makes the story more fun. I’m willing to over look a lot when it comes to the story.
But in this book, it was the characters that I had a problem with.
They were all very flat and hard for me to care about. The father struck me as sort of weak, bowing to the pressures of his teenage son who narrated parts of the book through his journal, and the son went from being a total kiss-ass to wanna-be badass and just struck me often as a stereotypical teenage brat.
Meanwhile the mother, Irene was off her rocker in near constant panic, and the entire book was riddled with the constant underlying struggle to obtain enough medications for the teenage daughter Eliza who suffered from severe asthma. Eliza, a character who had maybe ten or twelve lines in the whole book.
It was okay. It was entertaining.
I’m moving on now to the final book in the Atlantis Origin series by A.G. Riddle, The Atlantis World.