this book is magic. pure magic.

(the book of m more like the book of magic amiright)

but no seriously, you know when you read a book and you’re like oh… this was tailor-made for me in a lab! this was that book for me. it’s hope couched in post-apocalypse, it’s a plague epic, it’s a road trip, it’s weird and character-driven and full of heart and so philosophical i had to take laps around my house every few chapters because all of the sudden there were tears everywhere and my thoughts were going a mile a minute and i needed to reevaluate everything i thought i knew about myself and life and just about everything. in a good way.

i’m also a huge fan of stories like this where you’ve got alternating perspectives and they’re all so expertly interwoven, coming together as the book goes on like puzzle pieces. the kind of book you’ll need to reread once you’ve finally seen the story’s big and final tapestry. (i cannot wait to reread this book oh my god).

so many questions: what are memories, and who are we without them? who are we without a past tied (literally, in this case) to us? are we our memories or are we the bodies that hold them? what is the world without anyone around to remember how it should be? is there a “should be?” what happens when we don’t know why we feel what we feel, because we don’t remember what’s caused it? “it hurts so badly, but i can’t remember why.” and even though i haven’t lost my shadow or my memories to a fantastical plague (thank god), i couldn’t help but feel seen and understood by this depiction of memory and the questions this book posits about memories and selfhood, about the thin line between the body and the person, memory and identity. i was reminded of trauma, how sometimes it can be buried so deep one can’t find it anymore, how you can feel betrayed by your body’s reaction to something without knowing the reason for it.

i feel emptied out by this book in the best way. i am staring at my shadow right now asking it what it knows and it isn’t answering because of course it isn’t.

i’ve been trying to write this review for a week now and i’m sorry, i’m not sure any combination of words i could conjure up would ever do this book and my experience reading it justice. i just loved it and feel it in my bones. oh my god. just oh my god.

murderbot’s never done anything wrong in its life, actually

a fable, a philosophy, a long and winding road that isn’t a road at all and isn’t leading you anywhere except maybe back to yourself. who are we when we are alone, without even the world? and oh, what is there to do but keep walking?