The first dozen chapters were excellent. Liz starts as a vivacious narrator and I loved the cozy apocalyptic setting of the bookshop/post-office. The little oral histories sandwiches between chapters was a nice touch. 

The book starts getting unclear, inconsistent, and lazy almost immediately after Maeve’s introduction. It never recovers, and I was completely divested by the ending (the worst part of the book, utterly devoid of tension due to unclear writing and cliched plot points.)

IMO apocalyptic fiction needs to be about people, and should stretch our understanding of the human condition. The characters were foggy, and it was hard to rationalise their actions, moods, motivations, or hear their dialogue in any organic way. I found myself thinking “she would NOT say that” every 5 mins about characters I didn’t even gaf about… just out of protectiveness for the art of storytelling. Even Liz became a frustrating narrator. She either has a stunning absence of curiosity for the events around her, the world at large, and her own character - or the author just deeply misjudged what makes compelling storytelling.