Mira Grant cooked feijoada, that wonderful Brazilian dish. And I had some. And it tasted good, but what was in it exactly? Actually, I'm just a third of the way and wondering if there's a tummy ache up ahead. Will see.
Things were going well until I came up to:
"The thing about reality is it doesn't have to make sense."
What? No! That can't be! What about interstitial integrity? Or rational consequences? Or just basic sfnal logic? Help! I am really in trouble here, and I do so want to finish the book, so looking forward to how the author is going to resolve these narrative threads. Please tell me this was just an inadvertent line and in no way presages what's coming. Achh!
Sorry, too many nits nagging me with the back story, like, why is civilization still standing? And the main story is not exactly gangbusters. Putting this back on the shelf to perhaps return to later.