Remember that second-a-day charity ad from a few years ago:
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So The End We Start From is basically that writ large (and from the perspective of a new mum rather than a kid): London has fallen and they flee to the north. The narrator has a newborn, Z, and while the world around her disintegrates, hers concentrates until it contains only herself and her son. Then, as her son takes his first steps, it widens open again and the book ends.
It’s a quick read, and written by a poet, so it has that written-by-a-poet feel (lyrical rather than prosaic, ethereal rather than solid). It also can be read as a straightforward dystopia narrative or a metaphor for the few months of motherhood — the upheaval, the uncertainty, the one-on-one between primary caregiver and infant to the detriment of all else. The world, in this book, literally and figuratively, falls away. And it’s short, so we never get too gloomy or wallowing, because the forward momentum of the novel keeps us going.
The End We Start From by Megan Hunter went on sale November 7, 2017.
I received a copy free from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.