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Title: FEED (Newsflesh #1)
The year was 2014. We had cured cancer. We had beaten the common cold. But in doing so we created something new, something terrible that no one could stop.
The infection spread, virus blocks taking over bodies and minds with one, unstoppable command: FEED. Now, twenty years after the Rising, bloggers Georgia and Shaun Mason are on the trail of the biggest story of their lives – the dark conspiracy behind the infected.
The truth will get out, even if it kills them.
I was very underwhelmed by this book. For starters, it is
marketed as a zombie book, when in fact, it’s a political conspiracy book with
some zombies thrown in. It was entirely not what I was expecting.
repetitive. The world building is force fed to the reader via Georgia rather
than shown through events. I will say that the zombie concept that Grant has
come up with seems entirely original and was interesting. But I will also say
that again, we are force fed the zombie virus situation throughout the book. It
seemed like every five minutes I was hearing about a blood test, which model it
was, where the needles stuck, and about the blinking lights that finally
settled on green. I get it! I got it after the first few pages, actually.
Another repetitive aspect that drove me crazy was Georgia’s health issue –
Retinal Kellis-Amberlee. Basically, the zombie virus concentrated in her eyes.
We constantly hear about her sunglasses, how her eyes hurt in the light, her
migraines, contacts, and how every time she enters a building she runs into
problems with security. Once again, I got it after the first few times.
Georgia seemed kind of arrogant and goes out of her way NOT to fit in with
everyone else. She constantly talks about her desire to tell the Truth (yes,
with a “T”) and nothing but the Truth. Though she associates herself
with the “newsies” (a branch of bloggers who report only facts
without opinion), every blog post we hear from her is nothing but opinion, even
going so far as to state which candidate should win the presidential election.
“poking things with sticks” one more time, I was at risk of giving up
altogether. But I pushed through. Shaun is what is called an Irwin – a blogger
who goes out into dangerous areas to get footage of himself doing stupid
things. Oh, and Irwins are named after Steve Irwin (there was even something
about a Steve-o award), as if people in 2040 will remember who Steve Irwin was.
really sure why they don’t have books (Kindle, maybe?) in the year 2040, when
they have earring cameras and hotels with private elevators, but for whatever
reason, they rely on fictionals (bloggers who write fiction, shockingly) to get
their fix. Buffy seems to whine and complain a lot throughout the book and is the
ultimate demise of everyone.
maybe 18 years old, only to find out from reviews that they were actually
around 24. They were completely juvenile, unrealistically so. No one in real
life makes a (supposedly) witty comment at the end of every sentence. And no
one would call their brother an idiot when she thought he was about to die.
little weird. I love my brother and all, but I don’t share a bed with him and I
can stand to be away from him for more than five minutes. I’ve also never let
my love for my brother interfere with my dating experience.
My last unfortunate comment is that I have never before read a book and not
cared at all when a character died. I did not care in the least when characters
in this book died. I think that fact alone speaks volumes about this
book.
Audiobook narration is extremely hit or miss, and this one was a definite miss.
Paula Christensen’s voice was annoying, her voice rising at the end of each
sentence, almost like a sports announcer. Jesse Bernstein’s voice wasn’t nearly
as bad, but BOTH need to work on their British accents. I have never been to
England, but I’ve had English friends and I watch TV – I could have done a
better job. Paula’s accent sounded like a strange combo of Australian and
British, and Jesse’s sounded like Samoan mixed with British and American. Both
were really weird.
