The world is going to H in a proverbial H.
In my mother country, we have decided – for extremely thin and misinformed reasons – to take home our ball from the world’s most powerful trading bloc. Not to mention that the EU was originally envisioned by Winston Churchill as a political union to prevent future wars in Europe. Most of my fellow Brits seem to have forgotten that.
In my adopted homeland, we are being invited to choose a narcissistic and simple-minded TV celebrity to be leader of the free world. Anyone with a brain cell can see that he is spectacularly unqualified for the role. The same people are telling us that the proper reaction to the worst slaughter since 9/11 is to do precisely nothing.
At times like these, one needs an antidote.
My chosen remedy is 600 pages of vampire apocalypse. The City of Mirrors, by Justin Cronin, is the conclusion of the trilogy that started with The Passage and The Twelve.
In a funny way, when the fictional world has been ravaged by a virus that turns everyone into vampires, the total screw-up that is the real world doesn’t seem quite so bad.