A terrifying, emotional page-turner that explores what it means to be human.



Carey returns to the post-apocalyptic world of The Girl with All the Gifts (2014).

The Rosalind Franklin, aka “Rosie,” carries five scientists, one very special boy, and their escort of six military personnel in her heavily armored belly trundling over the decimated landscape of a ruined Scotland, collecting caches of data left by a previous expedition. Their mission is to find a cure for the Cordyceps pathogen that, 10 years ago, began transforming people into mindless killing machines, dubbed “hungries.” Epidemiologist Dr. Samrina “Rina” Khan hopes 15-year-old Stephen Greaves, and his unique abilities, will make a cure even more possible. After all, Stephen is something of a savant whose intelligence arguably outstrips that of all the scientists on board even though he suffers crippling social anxiety. One day, Stephen ventures off from a sampling expedition and discovers a female child among the hungries, a girl with the speed and reflexes of an infected but who also seems to be intelligent. Stephen knows that his discovery could change everything, if he can only make contact. Meanwhile, Rosie’s crew can’t get in touch with Beacon, their home base, and Rina is harboring a secret that could endanger the entire mission. Packing 12 people into a vehicle with coffinlike bunks and one shower would be stifling during the best of times, and tensions are high, amplifying power struggles between the civilian commander, Dr. Alan Fournier, and his scientists and between Col. Isaac Carlisle and his soldiers, especially volatile sniper Lt. Daniel McQueen. Carey weaves a creeping dread into his already tense narrative and doesn’t rely on clichéd zombie tropes to drive it. Each crew member is compelling, but Stephen is the standout here, and his idiosyncrasies, of which he’s painfully aware, only make him easier to root for, and Rina’s love for him is an anchor. Just as they think they’re close to a breakthrough, events force them to head for home, but they may not have a home to return to.

A terrifying, emotional page-turner that explores what it means to be human.

Pub Date: May 2, 2017

ISBN: 978-0-316-30033-9

Page Count: 400

Publisher: Orbit/Little, Brown

Review Posted Online: March 7, 2017

Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 15, 2017

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A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.


Are we not men? We are—well, ask Bigfoot, as Brooks does in this delightful yarn, following on his bestseller World War Z (2006).

A zombie apocalypse is one thing. A volcanic eruption is quite another, for, as the journalist who does a framing voice-over narration for Brooks’ latest puts it, when Mount Rainier popped its cork, “it was the psychological aspect, the hyperbole-fueled hysteria that had ended up killing the most people.” Maybe, but the sasquatches whom the volcano displaced contributed to the statistics, too, if only out of self-defense. Brooks places the epicenter of the Bigfoot war in a high-tech hideaway populated by the kind of people you might find in a Jurassic Park franchise: the schmo who doesn’t know how to do much of anything but tries anyway, the well-intentioned bleeding heart, the know-it-all intellectual who turns out to know the wrong things, the immigrant with a tough backstory and an instinct for survival. Indeed, the novel does double duty as a survival manual, packed full of good advice—for instance, try not to get wounded, for “injury turns you from a giver to a taker. Taking up our resources, our time to care for you.” Brooks presents a case for making room for Bigfoot in the world while peppering his narrative with timely social criticism about bad behavior on the human side of the conflict: The explosion of Rainier might have been better forecast had the president not slashed the budget of the U.S. Geological Survey, leading to “immediate suspension of the National Volcano Early Warning System,” and there’s always someone around looking to monetize the natural disaster and the sasquatch-y onslaught that follows. Brooks is a pro at building suspense even if it plays out in some rather spectacularly yucky episodes, one involving a short spear that takes its name from “the sucking sound of pulling it out of the dead man’s heart and lungs.” Grossness aside, it puts you right there on the scene.

A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy.

Pub Date: June 16, 2020

ISBN: 978-1-9848-2678-7

Page Count: 304

Publisher: Del Rey/Ballantine

Review Posted Online: Feb. 10, 2020

Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2020

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If nothing else, you have to giggle over how this novel’s namesake, who held vicious white supremacist opinions, must be...


Some very nice, very smart African-Americans are plunged into netherworlds of malevolent sorcery in the waning days of Jim Crow—as if Jim Crow alone wasn’t enough of a curse to begin with.

In the northern U.S. of the mid-1950s, as depicted in this merrily macabre pastiche by Ruff (The Mirage, 2012, etc.), Driving While Black is an even more perilous proposition than it is now. Ask Atticus Turner, an African-American Korean War veteran and science-fiction buff, who is compelled to face an all-too-customary gauntlet of racist highway patrolmen and hostile white roadside hamlets en route from his South Side Chicago home to a remote Massachusetts village in search of his curmudgeonly father, Montrose, who was lured away by a young white “sharp dresser” driving a silver Cadillac with tinted windows. At least Atticus isn’t alone; his uncle George, who puts out annual editions of The Safe Negro Travel Guide, is splitting driving duties in his Packard station wagon “with inlaid birch trim and side paneling.” Also along for the ride is Atticus’ childhood friend Letitia Dandridge, another sci-fi fan, whose family lived in the same neighborhood as the Turners. It turns out this road trip is merely the beginning of a series of bizarre chimerical adventures ensnaring both the Turner and Dandridge clans in ancient rituals, arcane magical texts, alternate universes, and transmogrifying potions, all of which bears some resemblance to the supernatural visions of H.P. Lovecraft and other gothic dream makers of the past. Ruff’s ripping yarns often pile on contrivances and overextend the narratives in the grand manner of pulp storytelling, but the reinvented mythos here seems to have aroused in him a newfound empathy and engagement with his characters.

If nothing else, you have to giggle over how this novel’s namesake, who held vicious white supremacist opinions, must be doing triple axels in his grave at the way his imagination has been so impudently shaken and stirred.

Pub Date: Feb. 16, 2016

ISBN: 978-0-06-229206-3

Page Count: 432

Publisher: Harper/HarperCollins

Review Posted Online: Nov. 4, 2015

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Nov. 15, 2015

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