Feed

Despite my initial scepticism about the central premise of Mira Grant's Feed — zombies are far too zeitgeisty to be cool, right? — but I quickly found myself won over. Set a couple of decades after the world was struck by a zombie plague, it follows a couple of blogger journalists as they follow the 2040 presidential primaries and attempt to maximise their web ratings without getting eaten by the living dead.

Georgia and Shaun Mason, mid-ranking bloggers, find themselves at the top table after being invited to cover Senator Peter Ryman's nomination campaign from the inside. Together with their hacker/poet sidekick Buffy Meissonier, who has every spy gadget known to humanity, they follow Ryman as he travels across the country trying to press the flesh in the world where everyone has to take pass three blood tests before they're allowed come within twenty feet of the candidate. But for all the senator's team's elaborate precautions, things still go wrong and the Masons find themselves caught up in a post-caucus zombie outbreak in Eakly, Oklahoma; an event that pushes the plot firmly into Transmetropolian territory.

Despite the enjoyable political plot, I was really struck by the quality of Feed's world building. The backstory is strongly scientific: caused by an interaction between a viral cure for cancer and a cure for the common cold, the zombie plague is the ironic result of hubristic attempt to improve the lot of humanity. Thus people no longer die of cancer or catch colds; instead they live with endless routine blood tests, they live in fear of any animal that masses more than 40lb, and, because everyone carries an inactive form of the plague virus, they live with the sure and certain knowledge that, when they die, they'll probably come back as a zombie.

Consequently, peoples' lives after the apocalypse are very different. Some people, like Buffy's parents, wrap themselves in security, setting up gated communities where vehicles are restricted and where it's safe enough for children to play outside, except that children aren't allowed to play outside because it would increase the risk of an outbreak. Others, like the ratings obsessed Mason parents, take a more liberal approach, allowing their kids to keep small pets, go on zoo trips, and generally mess around in the great outdoors — anything to boost blog traffic. (For all that the Masons senior are appallingly egomaniacal, they do have an excuse: the rating were the only things that got them through after their eldest son was attacked by a zombie dog shortly after the Rising).

Licences are required for any sort of significant travel, decontamination showers are licenced and logged by the government, and most people go armed at all times. (There's a nice moment during the political campaign, when Ryman's ultra-right opponent tries claims that arming the entire population has caused the murder rate to drop to almost nothing. George neatly points out that almost all zombies are shot dead and that it is often hard to tell whether zombification occurred pre- or post- mortem, making it more probably that not only has the number of murders massively increased but now almost all murderers are getting away with it). Best of all, the book doesn't shy away from the consequences of the world that it creates: the characters occasionally find themselves forced to shoot former friend and acquaintances who've turned, pushing home the point that zombification can happen to anyone — no matter how careful you try to be, you're just a car accident away from getting eaten.

The characters too are generally rather enjoyable. Both George and Shaun are well drawn and clearly differentiated. George, an old-school newsie with a commitment to truth, is a little earnest in the opening sections as she lays out the state of journalism and the blogosphere in 2040 but she soon settles into a Jerusalemesque crustiness — something helped no end by an eye condition that requires her to wear sunglasses at all times. Shaun, meanwhile, is an Irwin — an adrenaline junkie who just loves going out among the living dead and poking them with whatever comes to hand — who, despite his image as a daredevil, actually has a very charming relationship with his grouchy sister. And although Buffy never quite comes in focus, the other characters, especially Rick Cousins and the Rymans, come across rather better; as good people struggling to do right thing in a difficult and very changed world.

What with the cracking political plot, the uncompromising ending, and the enjoyable world building, I'm really looking forward to reading Deadline.