This may be Mary Shelley's forgotten treasure. The first post-apocolyptic novel, her victorian style is not suited to the dis topic reality she conjures. Mostly you feel the emotions of isolation, loneliness and powerlessness, an emotional backdrop that stemmed from the loss of both her child and beloved husband in real life.
This novel has the classical use of the modern English language with the romantic values of its age, yet with vision employed within the post-modern themes of existence, humanity and moral critique all within the expanse of human extinction. A paradoxical universe that see's not only the clash within personality within the human drama, but stylistically between the romanticist and the rationalist literature. It is compelling, and in a way timeless, for the genre it presaged. I recommend