Most helpful positive review
17 of 17 people found the following review helpful
Purple as the mountains, flush with setting sun
on June 5, 2013
Alas, I cannot accurately describe this book's, for my own words completely fail me. Instead, I will write my review as a tribute to Derek Gunn's writing in this masterpiece zombie fiction.
His prose is as purple as crushed berries in a summer picnic's dessert, smeared across the faces of his readers. Adverbs waft in dreamily, twirling around the action like a frightened poet, shakily reciting an unknown verse. "Holy mackeral!" I gasped, my eyes full of hypoxic astonishment at the author's bravery in shaking his fist at convention and forging on into the published world sans an editor of primary school caliber. The soothing flow of run on sentences remind me of the tranquil moments of youth, playing in the sand at the river and watching leaf after leaf swirl into the voids of the current which I dare not go or else I would be pulled under the swiftly moving waters to meet an unknown fate, leaving my parents heavy with pregnant grief.
Have you ever smelled something astonishingly putrid, but enticing at the same time? You are repulsed by the smell, but you are somehow drawn to its curious bouquet? When every instinct tells you to run as far away as you can and call for animal control, but you just can't stop yourself from picking up whatever died underneath the house? That is my experience reading this book. Consequently, and for all purposes, it is also the mode in which most characters from The Estuary live their daily lives. The appearance of a zombie is so alien to their way of life, they have no defense against the hordes that hunger to rip out their naked throats. Whether this is a consequence of much time spent traveling from one scene to another, only to travel back again, we might never know, given what has transpired.
"By Odin's beard!" I thundered, briefly becoming some some sort of deity, as I threw lightning bolts about. "I cannot understand the criticisms of this book! Surely, it is a diamond in the rough, shining with potential if one were to just look beyond the surface of spelling and grammar and formatting and continuity and plot and see with their own eyes the immeasurable beauty that must lie within the ebony chunk of blackest coal!"
Derek Gunn is surely a master of his craft, for so very few authors have filled me with such desire to turn page after page, begging to see more, not being able to wait to see to what climate the village has unexpectedly turned; Indeed, the thrill of never knowing if a character will be sweating under the stiflingly hot sun, or chilling in the shiveringly cold breezes drove me onward.
"You will have four stars from me," I beamed, momentarily blinding a passing motorist. "For I have not had this much fun digesting a novel in many years.
I leave my review with a question for Mr. Gunn, should he chance to come upon my humble review. One question that has burned in my mind since the birth of the tale and has yet been unanswered. Dear Mr. Gunn, What magnificent superpowers do strapping Irish men have, in order to right a submarine with only the strength of their souls and the alcohol that flows through their veins?