Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #16 July 2015 | Page 47

a program to “save” Britain. Now the Nazareth Act
has been put in place, everyone must produce an
identity card, or they will be shot. Michael has a plan
to escape. He has bought a large ocean going ship
and stocked it with food, which is rapidly becoming
scarce in London. He has invited a group of people
who all, in one way or another, represent hope in the
future. Five-hundred people. When the chaos on the
streets of London becomes too much and a shocking
event causes them to escape immediately, Lalla is full
of hope. But where is the ship going? What is Paul’s
plan for escape? Why is the escapees’ devotion to him
disturbingly cult-like?
This is a rollercoaster of a book that wraps itself
around you at the beginning and doesn’t let go. Lalla
is often annoying and spoiled, but utterly believable,
and as narrator, the tension between naïveté, teenage
angst, and slowly dawning comprehension is a
difficult trick to pull off, but Honeywell does it with
aplomb. Lalla is an insufferable brat, immature, and
irritating, and yet you can’t help but be on her side,
which throws into sharp relief the question at the heart
of the book—what is freedom? There are labyrinths
here to explore, and like all good books a wealth to
ponder and discuss. This would make a good book
club read.

As those who follow my reviews will know, I am not a
fan of YA, and this is possibly going to be marketed as
such, teenage protagonist equals YA, right? However,
I think there is enough here to satisfy any reader.
It didn’t suffer from all the things I dislike about
YA fiction. It is also a dystopia, and the problems
that sometimes occur with that genre, either overexplaining the world or trying to justify unbelievable
worlds, just doesn’t occur here. It is over the top—
Regent’s Park is bombed to remove undesirable nonID’d people for example—but a light touch from
Honeywell makes you accept and move on. The world
of the book is seen through a glass darkly, but that
enhances rather than detracts. Post-collapse books
usually take a “people are mostly bad” or “people are
mostly good” stance but Honeywell eschews this in
favour of “people react in different ways,” which is
refreshingly shades of grey.
The plot relies on Lalla being a bit dense, which is
a big no-no for me usually, and yet, here, it works.
Honeywell’s accomplishment is to be applauded,
taking several elements that all, at face value, will turn
off readers and making of them a compelling tale that
you don’t want to put down.
Overall - In short, this is a book you ought to read.

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