Published by CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform on January 21st 2013
Buy on Amazon
A post-apocalyptic zombie book for women.
Without the zombies.
Worse than zombies.
The Demon Virus spreads worldwide in a matter of days leaving nothing but a few uninfected people in its path along with disease-riddled survivors who possess homicidal tendencies.
Carson drives across the country, back to her parents’ farm, with her son Ronan to begin a new life in a post-apocalyptic world. There she discovers more uninfected people like herself and attempts to build new relationships after the devastating loss of her husband.
Two men distract Carson from her grief, each possessing different characteristics that she found, loved and needed in her husband. Cooper has a bad attitude but gives Carson the space she needs with his self-sufficient, independent ways. Ben panders after her but exhibits a kindness she appreciates. Neither of them embody all of which she lost in her husband’s death.
The need for human interaction intertwines with the daily struggle of tribulation, remorse and adjustment, revolving around the constant battles between the uninfected and the last remaining homicidal maniacs.
Days of Love and Blood is a story which examines the bonds created between people in times of change with an unexpected shocking end that will have you questioning your own threshold for pain.
Out of pity for how the rest of this is going to go, I’m going to start this off with a positive – the only positive.
Days of Love and Blood has an interesting take on zombies. That may not work for zombie purists, but I’m no purist. The zombs in this book aren’t your typical zombs. They’re still alive, for one, and they’re raging mad. They’re actually referred to as “homicidals” and that pretty much speaks for itself. This means you still get zombie-ish feels, what with the chasing and the killing, but it’s not really a zombie book. I like that aspect, though. The homicidals are truly that and they’re pretty scary. And that’s it. That’s the only positive.
I wish I was exaggerating.
Thing is, you could have the best premise and characters in all the land, but if your writing sucks, your book sucks. That’s not to say that this had the best characters, because they also sucked. I know what you’re thinking. “But Jenny, aren’t you being a little harsh?” No. Someone has to say it, dammit, because if you look at all the reviews on GR and Amazon, you see nothing but high praise. It boggles my mind. It’ll boggle yours, too, in a few minutes. All I can surmise is that the author has lots of loyal friends.
I could sit here and type a rant a mile long about the triteness of the story, the flat characters, the TSTL Mary Sue MC, the ridiculous dialogue, the improbable situations, and the bland love triangle that is probably the only thing that makes the author think this is a “post-apocalyptic zombie book for women,” but I won’t. Instead, I’m going to let this book review itself.
First up – the repetition. (All bold emphasis mine.)
It was a good thing I stopped when I did last night. I might have driven right by our street. I had no idea we were this close when I stopped last night.
For the next three hours, we dragged the bodies and limbs to a few cleared areas where we could burn the bodies.
Next up – everything happens DIRECTLY.
…large field that emptied directly into the backside of downtown…
…my weight directly behind the blade’s edge…
…I stood directly in front of him…
…pushed the tips of my blades directly through the faces of my two closest attackers.
…took a seat directly on the grass nearby.
…it would fall down directly behind that lone tree.
…where I knew the home improvement store stood, directly off the interstate.
…impaled the other directly behind him.
…catching the homicidal directly under the chin.
If it doesn’t happen directly, it definitely happens SUDDENLY.
…side road suddenly appeared out of the darkness.
Ritchie suddenly appeared in my thoughts…
I suddenly remembered the danger…
I inhaled suddenly
suddenly I had a giant herd running straight in my direction.
Ivy’s face suddenly morphed.
I turned the light off and it was as if we were suddenly cast into night time.
Sunlight suddenly broke through…
…suddenly I realized the stupidity of what I had done.
Two thoughts suddenly converged and smashed through my daydreams, flinging my eyes open with their awful truths…
…weeks of solitude suddenly brought back wild instincts.
I suddenly remembered the camp we passed the day before.
Suddenly it dawned on me what they meant.
I suddenly laughed at my own odd sense of humor.
Suddenly there were ten or more beastly dogs…
…suddenly widened his eyes…
It was suddenly like I found my twin.
Guilt suddenly overwhelmed me.
Suddenly moving on. I don’t even know how to intro the following quotes, so just brace yourself.
A young man with streaks of bloody tears on his cheeks had left his feet and was in midair, bringing down a pickaxe in my direction. He let out a warrior’s cry before I maneuvered out of his path and jabbed my sword through his neck with my right hand as he flew by. Never leave your feet, fool.
“It’s okay, Mommy.”
Those two words made my lips purse and nose crinkle…
…while hanging my clothes to dry I smelled the wonderful flavors of food being cooked wafting around me.
That writing is clunky as fuck, bro.
Sunlight suddenly broke through and streamed in from the other side without blinding me. It came in faintly, through the bending branches and around the tiny leaves, casting small pools of brilliance around me which moved back and forth as the wind gently caressed the thin limbs. The ground around us sparkled with dazzling brilliance and a deep sigh was caught in my neck as I choked back one sudden thought.
“Without blinding me.” lololol I hate when I choke on thoughts.
The white dandelion milk oozed from the miniscule crevices created as I wrapped the stalk around my finger.
I sat down in the chair and buried my face into my knees.
Every so often he would kiss me deeply, only for a few seconds, and then pull back. I held his gaze and accepted every touch of his tongue.
My hands slid up his arms and underneath the sleeves. I could feel his desire burning behind the depths of his eye.
LOOL. His EYE. I sincerely hope that’s not a typo, because it’s amazing.
Each time his grip tightened it felt like he was biting my skin with his fingers.
I ended the call before Mom could finish and glimpsed Ritchie standing there, cradling me with his eyes.
Do you hear that? That’s the sound of all your “but, Jenny’s” falling upon my deaf ears. No. Just no. There’s bad writing and then there’s painfully bad writing. No need to wonder what category this one falls under.