I really just don’t see the appeal of the book. Like, yes, it’s a well written account imagining something horrible happening to humanity at large and the few survivors, but I really don’t see why one would want to read it
Like most speculative fiction, it speaks to the human condition. It just happens to use an eldritch horror to do so. In the case of AM, a monster made in our own image.
Really there is a reason that multiple genres exist. I hate romance novels. But give me despair wrapped in a cautionary tale of the hubris of humanity and it gets me rock hard.
I’m also a big fan of thought experiments like “Orphans of the Sky” by Heinlein. Asking “what if…” humans were in this strange situation.
I also wonder a lot about the human condition, well sitting in the dim light of a foggy room staring into the unlit shadowy corners. The formless black beckoning me to return to annihilation, as I take a long drag off a cigarette and decide instead to check my Lemmy feed.
I really just don’t see the appeal of the book. Like, yes, it’s a well written account imagining something horrible happening to humanity at large and the few survivors, but I really don’t see why one would want to read it
Same reason some folks like The Road or several of Edgar Allen Poe’s works. The despair is a drawing point.
The Raven is really funny
Like most speculative fiction, it speaks to the human condition. It just happens to use an eldritch horror to do so. In the case of AM, a monster made in our own image.
It’s about the folly of hubris, societal self-destruction, and how machines built to end wars will always continue wars in one form or another.
Different strokes for different folks?
Really there is a reason that multiple genres exist. I hate romance novels. But give me despair wrapped in a cautionary tale of the hubris of humanity and it gets me rock hard.
I’m also a big fan of thought experiments like “Orphans of the Sky” by Heinlein. Asking “what if…” humans were in this strange situation.
I also wonder a lot about the human condition, well sitting in the dim light of a foggy room staring into the unlit shadowy corners. The formless black beckoning me to return to annihilation, as I take a long drag off a cigarette and decide instead to check my Lemmy feed.