~post by Jan
They slugged through the freezing rain on Thursday night, bundled in cotton and wool and denim. Upon arrival, they threaded through the warm, smiling bookstore crowds, up to the third floor–dark and quiet and spotted with rubble from recent (de)construction work. The thirteen women, mostly strangers, sat in a circle, sipped on some beer, and talked…about art.
It was a perfect parallel to the work under discussion: Emily St. John Mandel’s eerie Station Eleven. Mandel’s story follows the stories of several characters (connected through their interactions and relationships to Arthur Leander, an aging actor who dies on the eve of the apocalypse) trying to make it through the first days after a devastating superflu kills off the majority of humanity–what they cling to (be it forgotten technologies or comic books or gossip magazine clippings) and where they find meaning (Shakespeare and Star Trek and the New…
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