PALM MERIDIAN

At a queer retirement community in Florida in 2067, a former entrepreneurial wunderkind gets ready to celebrate the end of her wild and precious life.

“It was the second half of the twenty-first century and everything was flavoured with apocalypse. And yet—this gelato-coloured place, its rolling lawns riddled joyfully with lesbians, flush with bisexual women, blessed by a bevy of trans and non-binary people—how could you leave a home like this?” Hannah Cardin, 77, has nonetheless decided the time has come. She’s spent the last 10 years of her life in this lezzie paradise, a place that bobs along on the surface of the climate disaster that’s submerged the state partly due to the environmentally friendly cooling system supergenius Hannah invented in her 20s. It’s been a bright and busy decade, but now that she has a terminal cancer diagnosis, Hannah’s chosen to close it with a bang of a party, then check in for euthanasia in the morning. In addition to all her beloved pals at the resort, she’s invited her old business partner, Luke, and her great lost love, Sophie. Will they show? As day-of party prep unfolds, a second narrative thread chronicles Hannah’s childhood in Montreal, her business career, and her relationship with Sophie, which ended sadly, badly, and with complications Hannah has never been aware of. While all the writing is delightful and fizzy, the descriptions of Montreal are particularly moving. “Montreal had a way of tucking itself behind your breastbone and not dislodging itself your whole life. Wherever you went, you’d carry this icy place around with you, to faraway cities and tropical climes.” There is much to enjoy in Flahive’s high-spirited debut—vibrant settings, smart worldbuilding, and exuberant, bawdy queer energy. Flahive manages her large cast of characters and relationships with glee; among them is gorgeous Esme, Hannah’s friend since college. Esme is also tangled up in the complications with Luke and Sophie that unfold in the flashback. This is where the book trips up a little, with soap opera–style overplotting, and a bit of a fizzle at the end. You’ll forgive Flahive because the ride was so much fun.

The funnest book about death and post-apocalyptic living to date. Build it and we will come.