I was really excited to read this book. I mean the premise of the whole world (or at least Europe, I’m not sure how much of the world is to be affected) getting wiped out by disease and only one man left alive. Oh the endless possibilities. I was almost giddy for the book to arrive (via amazon). Favorable reviews, written in the 19th century (yeah I was on an 1800’s kick back in 6 and 2000).
What was that saying about obtaining a great height above Terra Firma? Oh yeah, it’s a long way to the bottom and then you realize that you’re falling into a bottomless pit.
So I build stuff up to unrealistic ideals in my head. See Thrilling Cities. Also ask me about the time I went to go see the Jim Rose Side Show Circus when they came to Houston. So sue me.
Okay let’s start over. So a while back I went to a used book store and bought Dracula and Frankenstein. The movie stories playing in my head, I already knew the story didn’t I? But now here are the original horror stories. I could find out the real story. Better not read these at night unless you have a freezer handy. (see the Friends episode where Joey and Rachel trade books to read) Both are differently written to put it mildly. A series of letters, not quite diary entries. Dracula was the better of the two. A menacing foe. A quest to find and kill him. Oh how do they do it? Yeah after chasing him across the continent they catch up to him in the day time while he is asleep in his coffin, being carted to a castle and they kill him. Scary? Please. As for Frankenstein. You know there was no detail about how he was created in the lab. Body parts, lightning, I swear Mary Shelly yada yada yada’d over the whole thing and then BAM! Frank is alive and depressed and runs away. Marlow tries to go after him. Again with the letters. I’m told this is more a deep story about man’s struggle. Crap I just wanted a horror story. Someday I’ll have to tell you about the Invisible man. Now that lived up to the legend, though not as humorous as the Chevy Chase version.
But I digress. Though I had a reason. What do I remember of The Last Man? Nothing. NO REALLY. I mean I read the book. 500+ pages. I was excited to read this book. So much so that I read the whole thing. See normally after 50-100 pages if a book doesn’t catch my interest I toss it. But I really wanted to see what was going to happen. I mean it couldn’t have gotten any worse. The intro was confusing and didn’t pique my interest. Well I should have stopped there. It is a story of pain. My pain in reading, the pain of the last man in his loss. Apparently Mary Shelly wrote this after her husband died and she was depressed.
Do yourself a favor. Don’t even think about reading this book. If you want to live a story about overcoming the trials thrown at you by life, go out and read The Worst Journey in the World
by Apsley Cherry-Gerard . A fascinating book about following the life of one man during the Scott expedition to the South Pole. You’ll feel the pain of the journey and be satisfied (maybe) of the accomplishment of finishing the book. Of course now that I’m finally writing my thoughts on the book at the end of the year, a new movie have come out, I Am Legend. Now I would like to see the movie. It also is a book, about what else, the last man left in New York. Or something to that effect. I’ll try not to get too excited about the possibilities. I heard that it is full of zombies, and one zombie book a year is enough for me. But 2008 is just around the corner.
