The End We Start From by Megan Hunter
This is a poetic novel about a natural disaster hitting London, and presumably the world, told from the perspective of a young woman and her family. Nothing is certain, and the future seems bleak indeed, but her focus is on her young baby.
It is beautifully written, and sparse. The narrative style of the book had a very different effect on me then many other readers it seems, I felt too far away from the events of the book by the prose style. There was a lot of terror and heartbreak and numbing hopelessness between the lines here, and I wanted to get inside the narrator's head. She kept me at a distance. I liked the naming of characters by single letters, but everything else about the book was cut down to its bare essentials. Aesthetically this is intriguing, but its not for me.
