This book is not about survival. Or murder. Or loosing everyone you've ever loved. It is not about mad men. Or false communities. Or false prophets. Or going down the wrong path. Or disappearing forever.
It is not about performance art. Or facade. Or art for art's sake. Or art for personal pleasure. It is not about theater. Or about music. Or a last plane ride. Or that last cup of coffee.
It is not about comic books. Or science fictional escape. It is not about fathers and sons. Or brothers and sisters.
It is not about a stranger trying to save a man's life. It is not about those who survive letting the past go. And this book is not about remembering it as well.
It is about all of those things, and more.
I really feel Station Eleven has something for everyone. It is a special book.
[Disclaimer: This book is published by Knopf, an imprint of Penguin Random House. I work for DK, also an imprint of Penguin Random House. I was not coerced into writing this review. The opinions expressed in this blog are my own. I do work for the company who publishes this book, but I write about it here because it is terrific and you should read it, and not because I had to. That is all. I made the font size of the disclaimer smaller, because, isn't it always?]
