Update: This is an old review of Ike Hamill’s Extinct. It’s a lousy review. No, the book isn’t lousy, my review is. I think I would have written a more positive review of this if I had given it more thought. I have since read a lot of Hamill’s books, and my opinion of them, and of him as a writer, gets higher with each one. Right now my daughter is hooked on the Extinct series. As soon as I have some time, I plan to come back and replace this with a smarter review. Meanwhile, I recommend this and his other books.
Extinct is totally, totally gripping (and generally I don’t even like horror) . I have been in a state of generalized anxiety since I started it, and reading too late/not getting enough sleep. Ridiculous, I know, but this one has it’s claws in me in me as much as a Stephen King. Sure, it’s had some 1-star reviews and, as they point out, this book has some weaknesses. Some of the characters are not well fleshed out. I sometimes have difficulty picturing what he’s describing. And I haven’t even finished it yet! So no, it’s not as good as Stephen King at his best. But it still immerses me and suspends disbelief, so it’s a lot better than King’s weaker novels. And while that may seem like weak praise, whether you love or hate King, you have to admit he’s the master of the genre.
OK, I need to backtrack a little… I haven’t read enough of the genre to definitively say who the master is. So feel free to disagree with me on that last point!
Find Extinct on Amazon and at other bookstores.
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