Member Reviews
I did not like this book. Not at all. In fact, I felt myself having to force my way through the last half of the book, purely because I felt so apathetic to the entire thing. As a concept, this could have been a really interesting novel, but because it is condensed down into such a short number of pages, not to mention the fact that we are kept in suspense throughout about what this mysterious flooding is, we barely get anything from the text.
The characters aren't really characters because they're only given letters to their name and we can never establish who is where and doing what, mostly because there's so many different people. I just did not care about these people and their situation. This book needed to be longer, it needed to be more fleshed out, and it needed to not feel like the author was just trying to be super clever and poetic.
A very interesting and timely premise. The water levels are rising, London already under water, and it is spreading to cover different cities and towns. A young woman is about to give birth, and soon has baby Z. Fascinating juxtsposition, a pending breakdown of society, with the wonder of a new birth. They are forced to move, again and again from camp to camp, as the water rises, and as food supplies dwindle. Baby Z grows, and a mother's love for her child very apparent.
The story is told in short, sparse paragraphs, with quotes from the book of Genesis, creation and the flood, interspersed between certain segments. This was done so well, but there was one hurdle I could not overcome. The constant use of initials, bugged me to no end, and also made this short book confusing, trying to sort out and remember who was who. Possibly this was done to show that in a society collapse, an environmental disaster, names no longer matter, only survival does, but for me it lessened the impact of the story bring told.
I am not sorry I read this, it had important issues to convey, and many reviewers did not find the same impossibility of jumping through the hurdle that I could not. Judge for yourself.
The writing is spare and descriptive and in some ways beautiful; but the book didn't hold my attention and I didn't find it very enjoyable to read. I did, however, like the poetic writing enough to give it 3 stars
See, when I read this summary, I thought there would be more to it than what was mentioned. Something about the actual environmental situation or about the actual dangers of the new world. There is not. This is literally what the novel is about. To be fair, I don't even know if this should be considered a novel because it was so short. Not only was it short, it didn't have much substance. The story is told from the mother's perspective and she uses the alphabet to name everyone (there is a character named N, and another one named R). I really didn't like the whole alphabet naming thing because it always took me a minute to realize who she is talking about. I had absolutely no connection with any of the characters because you don't really know much about anyone except for the protagonist ... but there wasn't much to her, either. The struggles that she went through didn't really seem like struggles because they weren't described very well. And while I like babies, I don't like reading about their normal development. Barely anything happens in this book and the only reason I got through this novel was because of how short it was. I'm giving this a 1/5 stars.
4.5 Stars
Megan Hunter's The End We Start From is a prose poem (yes, that's a thing) that tells the story of a near-apocalyptic flood submerging London during the last weeks of an unnamed woman's pregnancy. An older first-time mother (geriatric primigravida), the woman narrates the harrowing story of her delivery and shortly thereafter evacuates with her husband. Ultimately separated from her husband, she travels through several evacuation camps and is ultimately able to return home after the harrowing first year of her son "Z's" life. Hunter is an award-winning British poet and it shows in the elegiac tone of this novella, which takes its title from a line in T. S. Eliot's Little Gidding (Four Quartets). This is a beautiful 140-page novella. Those afraid of another story of dystopian horror should take comfort in the further lines from Eliot's opus:
"And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well"
The spare, poetic tone of this short book may not be for everyone, but it was a moving read for me.
The Music Shop is a hymn to vinyl, love
British almost to a fault and an ode to the eighties, Rachel Joyce’s The Music Shop spans decades of a record shop on a minor London street filled with similarly unprofitable stores and the lives of the heartbroken owner, a heartbroken young lady with a sad story, and the wildly diverse characters who swirl around them and the neighborhood like flotsam in unkempt gutters. Musical, lyrical, occasionally naughty, and cinematic, The Music Shop introduces me to her earlier release: The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, which I look forward to listening to, um, reading.
Wendy Ward
http://wendyrward.tumblr.com/
This was a... really weird book. As a result, I'm not sure what to rate it or how exactly to review it. But I'll give it a shot.
The best thing about this book was probably it's beautifully lyrical prose. Megan Hunter for sure knows how to write in a lyrical way. That's probably also her downfall because the book fell flat when it came to pretty much everything else. To me, it almost felt like Hunter was so into the prosaic quality of her book that she let everything else go, resulting in a book that I was intrigued by for the first quarter, and totally bored by after that.
For a science fiction novel (apparently), this novel... is very much not science fiction. Sure, it's a "dystopia" setting. But we actually know nothing about this dystopian setting. We hear some vague things about a possible war and some floods, but nothing about this is elaborated. There is basically zero world-building. On top of that, there is no sense of place. The book is set in the UK, and the narrator refers to London and Scotland multiple times. On top of that, she spends time at two different refugee camps. Yet, as a reader I never got a sense of place for any of these places, which is especially bad for dystopian fiction where a sense of place is pretty important, in my honest opinion.
I also just didn't connect to any of the characters. Which is unsurprising since none of the characters had names. The narrator was nameless and everyone she came across was only recognisable by, presumably, the first letter of their name. So the narrator's husband was R, and her baby was Z, on and on and on. If there were only two or three characters, maybe this wouldn't have been so annoying, but by the end of the book we were getting so many letters of the alphabet as characters that I was like "huh???" I also would have understood if the characters being nameless served some sort of a purpose besides being difficult and grating... but they really didn't.
The central focus of the book is really about the narrator and Z, her newborn baby. They have to navigate a newly-emerged "dystopian" world together. But... even that felt pretty lacking, if I'm perfectly honest. Everything is told in snippets that were often 400-500 words - if even. Leaving a lot to desire. Everything was so vague: plot, characters, relationships, the world. There was absolutely nothing to hold on to.
The good thing about this book was that it was so short I could read it in one sitting (and I still skimmed the last half of the book because I was bored to death). It's sad because Hunter is a good writer prosaically.
I would recommend this book to you if you are absolutely in love with prose to the point where you don't really care about anything else. Otherwise...
What a strange book. The writing is very sparse. At time, the book reads more like someone’s notes about a book than an actual story. And it's funny how the use of initials instead of names threw me for a loop.
In this book a woman gives birth to her firstborn just as a flood envelopes London. She and her husband escape to a mountain to live with his parents. But they are forced to keep moving and half the time the reasons are not filled in. People come, people go. It's like as the world ends, so does her ability to maintain a complete thought. Most of this book revolves around watching her baby grow and the normalcy of his development contrasted with how the outside world has changed.
I'm sure the choppy writing was meant to symbolize what was happening. But for me, it just irritated. It was all I could do to finish this and the only reason I did is that it's a very short book.
My thanks to netgalley and Picador for an advance copy of this book.
This is short book, so this review will also be a bit short. THE END WE START FROM is a lyrical masterpiece hidden behind a dystopian novel. I can’t even begin to to describe how I feel about this book. It is so good.
THE END WE START FROM is about a woman who gives birth right as her home, and most of London, is being submerged under water. She names her child Z, short for Zeb. Everyone else in this story is only known by a letter. The main character is never named and the details of her are more about how she is feeling or imagines she is seen by others, than what she actually looks like. The story follows the woman on this journey to find safety and security for her and her child. Along with the horror of being separated from her husband, being displaced and forced to live with strangers, there is the miracle of this baby Z that she loves so much.
The books starts with this:
“I am hours from giving birth, from the event I thought would never happen to me, and R has gone up a mountain.”
This story is more about motherhood than the event. It was so fascinating to read about this woman whose whole world has changed not just because of the event, but because of the Z, a child she thought she would never have. She’s older and has waited a long time to be a mother. Even still, motherhood changes a woman. Her story of discovery of her child, along with the miracle and struggles of newborns, was so familiar.
The prose in this book is sparse, and the author doesn’t waste a single word. For me the scenes were easy to imagine as the story flows from the woman’s perspective effortlessly. I almost want to compare this to THE HANDMAID’S TALE as it was vague but gave just enough details to tell a story. Of course, this story is more complete in my opinion as we see where the characters end up and it is much more linear.
The only thing I didn’t like was the brevity of the story. I did enjoy where the story left off but I would have read and enjoyed another 400 pages of a story like this, written in this way. I would to read more from this author and I highly recommend this book.
This brief novel is narrated by an unnamed woman as she, her husband, R, and their newborn son, Z, survive after a flood devastates London. Like the characters, much of the action of the novel remains unnamed, giving the reader space to fill. Trying to stay ahead of the damage, cut off and relying heavily on unofficial reports and gossip, the narrator also documents her life--the prosaic and the profound. Parallel to the recovery and rebirth of the city are Z's milestones: cutting teeth, rolling over, standing. Haunting and spare, Hunter challenges the reader with a nameless, faceless narrator who readers will nevertheless identify with and a lean narrative that will hold readers' attention.
Reviewed on Goodreads.
A short but poetically written book. Megan Hunter uses the everyday changes in a babies life to bring the story of this disaster to life. It's an unusual story but one I couldn't put down.
A poetic, dystopian-ish, postmodern novella. The physical connection between mother and child gives life and purpose to a world being torn apart.
Full disclosure: I don't usually like dystopian novels and for the most part--true here, too. 2.5 but rounding up--maybe regrettfully.
The setting: "In the midst of a mysterious environmental crisis, as London is submerged below flood waters, a woman gives birth to her first child, Z. Days later, the family are forced to leave their home in search of safety.... This is a story of new motherhood in a terrifying setting: a familiar world made dangerous and unstable, its people forced to become refugees."
So the narrator, the unnamed woman, gives birth to Z. She nurses. Alot. Her husband, R, leaves at some point. And she has to make new connections to survive. All the characters are initials: also G, N, D, L, and more. Didn't much care. They advance the plot, but so what.
The prose is very sparse, staccato like, and flat. BUT. There are some beautiful phrases and clever descriptions:
"hunched shoulders like the start of wings"
"sludge filled nappies"
"made him sob with some vast, rare sorrow"
hunger described as "...my stomach reaches up to ask for more"
I fell into the rhythm of the book but I thought about 2/3 of the way through it changed and I lost interest. Thankfully short and lots of white spaces on the pages.
Interesting but I'm not sure why this generated a huge bidding war. It's yet another dystopian novella involving climate change but this time there's motherhood. It's quite short. The prose is lovely but sometimes, for me at least, too mannered. I'm glad I read it but I find it hard to decide how to recommend it except to say that you'll discover a new writer with what will no doubt be a global reputation. Thanks to the publisher for the ARC.
The End We Start From arrived at my door and before day was over I had read the book. It is a small volume, sparsely worded, but thick with meaning.
Megan Hunter's first novel can be read as an homage to motherhood. Pregnancy and a child's growth and the bonds of baby and child are vivid and visceral, honest and truthful. I knew this journey.
"Pregnancy was the great adventure." The End We Start From
It is a dystopian story of a climate catastrophe causing mass migration, refugees seeking safety. Soon after the birth of their baby, a family flees rising flood waters that are overwhelming London. The father takes them north. As panic and disorder follows, the family retreat further from civilization. They find shelter in a refugee camp. They become separated
There is a layer of symbolic meaning. The title, The End We Start From, comes from lines in T. S. Eliot's Four Quartets. It is my favorite Eliot poem.
What we call the beginning is often the end
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from.
The story is told in a few short sentences grouped together and separated by asterisks, as if we hear the mother's spoken thoughts. Interspersed are italicized sentences, seeming quotations, that relate snippets of creation stories. Many readers will recognize the Judeo-Christian references to the Creation of the World, Adam and Eve, and Noah and the Flood.
Universal archetypes appear: references to world Creation Myths of emergence from water or a world egg, the symbolism of womb and a child's birth, the creation of land and mankind, myths of paradise.
The structure of the novel may confuse some readers who prefer a strong narrative or character-driven story. But, if they give the novel a chance, these readers can relate to the story of a mother's love and the joys and concerns of motherhood.
The need to leave home for safety is, sadly, also too universal. Just consider the recent hurricanes, earthquakes, and wildfires.
And, Hunter has another message for us: When our lives seem to be torn asunder, and we have lost everything, there comes a child taking its first step. We know what we have lost. This child only will know the world as it is. The child is a new beginning.
Life is not linear, going from worse to better. Life is nothing but endings and starting over. We lose a loved one, a career, a home, mobility.
A child is born. Flood waters arose and covered London. People flee and gather to survive. The child grows. The waters recede. The people return. Nothing is the same. Life goes on.
I truly believe that Earth is changing and humans will suffer. Local climate changes will mean some crops fail and other will thrive, new species will move in and other will move out. Humans will migrate. There will be social, political, and economic stress. There will be violence and disorder. There will be an ending to the time we have flourished in, this interglacial period. There will be a new beginning, one born in violence of the death of all we have known. Somewhere, a baby will take it's first step into it's mother's arms.
It is the end we start from.
I received a free ebook from the publisher through NetGalley and an ARC through Goodreads giveaway in exchange for a fair and unbiased review.
This novella is frustratingly short and sparse. It's also beautiful, thought-provoking, and eerily familiar.
A personal note about short books is that I feel I don't get anything out of them.
This one I liked, it's not that but I did find it a bit hard to get into and as I was getting into it was almost over. The concept and the language is good. But it's just such a short story and I wanted more, or maybe less, it to be a shorter story and more of a short story.
Good book, but for me sadly forgettable.
Blurring the lines between poetry and prose, Megan Hunter's debut novel is a spare and beautiful thing.
Taking place during a flood - maybe apocalyptic, or maybe only viewed as such by our nameless protagonist - The End We Start From chronicles the flight of a small new family, caught in events beyond their imagining and control. But larger than that looms the disruption of parenthood - the changes that occur in body and personality that centre around the new tiny person.
The writing itself is gorgeous, and I wanted to include an excerpt, but I found it impossible to pick just one phrase. It's a short read - check it out.
Dystopian. Dark. Sparse but lyrical. Not easy to forget. Haunting. Disturbing. In many ways, like falling into an altered state. A book to engender conversation, discussion, yet at the same time, it tends to rob one of words.
Definitely unlike anything I have ever read before but in a good way! This was a haunting and poetic dystopian story told in a short prose kind of fashion. I liked the way it was told even though you don't get a lot of details you can piece it together in your mind. This was a really quick and easy read and I flew through it because I couldn't put it down. I feel like I need to read it again to fully experience and understand it more. The words and sentences almost seem lyrical. The story seems realistic to the point where it scares you. There's something you can't quite put your finger on though, maybe it's because you are left to fill in the blanks in certain parts and it's disconcerting and terrifying all at once. I definitely recommend reading this one, it might not be for everyone because of the way it was written, but I think most people will like it. I received an advance copy from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.