KIRKUS REVIEW
A jubilant story about two star-crossed lovers, one of them dead and hungry for more than love.
Debut novelist Marion hits the pulse of the Twilight crowd with this morbidly romantic look at how affection really feels when your heart beats no more. “I am dead, but it’s not so bad,” says our zombie narrator, by way of introduction. “I’ve learned to live with it. This is “R,” so named because it’s all he can remember. But this is no Team Edward sob story. R really is a zombie, carrying the pink brains of his victims back to his communal lair for a snack. But one day, R chomps down on Perry Kelvin, a teenager whose sole affection is for his girlfriend, Julie. R begins absorbing Perry’s memories, which in turn inspire him not to treat Julie like a bucket of KFC. And so the weirdest courting in the history of literature begins, as R and Julie spend time together prowling food courts and half-destroyed 747s. Julie, who could have been a simplistic mechanism to drive the book’s plot, turns out to be its most inspired character, inhabiting that odd space between fear and curiosity. “Maybe you’re not such a monster, Mr. Zombie,” she admits at one point. “I mean, anyone who appreciates a good beer is halfway okay in my book.” R begins to change, redeveloping his ability to communicate, and noticing a physical transformation to accompany his emotional awakening. But the path of true love never runs smooth, and the unlikely duo soon find themselves caught between R’s ravenous companions and Julie’s soldier father.
Originally self-published, this DIY success story is already slated for a film adaptation, making these quixotic lovers the grateful dead indeed.
