HUNGRY? FANCY A CRISP GRASSHOPPER shank? What about a dainty ball of fat that has been knocking around in your backpack for a week or two? No?
Well you shouldn’t be so picky if you hope to survive in a brave new world. So says Frank Owen, who isn’t Frank Owen. Frank is actually a pseudonym for two writers: Diane Awerbuck and Alex Latimer. Their reason/s for ducking behind a bland Welsh moniker is/are not revealed. But, whatever the cause, they have come up with a rare thing: a lusty post-apocalyptic adventure page-turner.
Some conspiracy theorists might contend that the entire concept was sparked by extrapolations of Donald Trump nightmares, with a future United States of America devouring itself in a North/South confrontation of surpassing evil. But if the book is veiled propaganda against The Donald and all his works, it nevertheless contrives to entertain and titillate.
This story is from the March 2017 edition of Noseweek.
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This story is from the March 2017 edition of Noseweek.
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