Bar None by Tim Lebbon ( Night Shade Press , 2009 ) is a dark post - apocalyptical fantasy with a creepy numinous beauty and really good beer . goal of the world , everybody , last orders if you please .
As if Nature was finally fed up with those busybodied barefaced apes , a pest of plagues sweeps across the globe . Ebola , Marburg , Bird Flu , Swine Flu , Panda Flu , Siberian Tarantella , and Restless Spine Syndrome * ; a simultaneous outbreak of every mortal disease wipes out closely every human being in a topic of weeks . Five survivors , alien to each other , have found shelter in a stately manor home just outside a Welsh city . They gather all the nutrient they can and avail themselves to the Manor ’s extensive cellar of fine wines and ale . It ’s a Wake Island for the whole man as they toast the past , attempt to make sentiency of their continued existence , and figure out what the blaze to do next . All the while the five keep a certain length from each other and void looking to the horizon where dark and unearthly shapes flap and R-2 in the beautiful dismal new sky of an emptied earth .
Six blurry months by and by the auditory sensation of a motorcycle tears through the silence . Astride it is a Mysterious Stranger who asks to be called Michael . With trepidation , the five receive him to the manor house and portion with him a meal from their sumptuous if dwindle away larder . That midnight Michael visits each of them individually , warn that thing are just going to get worse . He urge that they trek down to the south to Cornwall and attempt refuge with other survivors at a blank space called Bar None , the last pub on Earth . By dawn ’s damp the puzzling weirdie is operate and the five reluctantly agree to seek this potential bema . After all , it ’s not like they have any ripe plan and besides , they are hunt out of liquor .
throng up all their supply in two Range Rovers and Michael ’s empty bike they coif off across a distorted landscape painting in search of … well , anything other than what they had . The Blighty they travel through is more unsettling than they ever imagined . Nature has been reclaiming its own as well , but not like they believe . Wolves , bear , and eagle seem to have retrovert to the Sceptered Isle . Trees are sprouting everywhere with an accelerated growth and in unrecognizable cast . There are other survivors , of a sort , as well . Here Lebbon diddle with with certain figure of the End of the World as We Know It . There ’s the Steely - Eyed Survivalists , Mohawked Cannibal Hordes , and of course of instruction those loveable Mutants – but all with a just enough of a twist . Of all post - apocalyptic fare , Bar None really cue me of J.G. Ballard , specially work like The Drowned World or The Crystal World . The world is change into something trigger-happy and wonderful and it no longer has any room for kinsfolk like you or me .
All of this is tell from the viewpoint of one of the five from the Manor , whose name we never know . His tale is regularly interspersed with memories of his beloved wife Ashley , lost to the plagues . These scenes are twine with reminisces of his other love , fine British ale like Greene King Abbot Ale , Marston ’s Old Empire , or Redruth Cornish Rebellion . Here , try a sip of this :
Theakston ’s Old Peculier , rich and dark and heavy , a smooth roasty beer with a jot of chocolate and an apparent vinaceous aftertaste , a complex beer , copious and sinewy and as familiar to my glossa as the taste of Ashley ’s skin , the hint of her intimation , the the tang of exertion on her neck as we made love .
A heady brewage indeed . After one of these waxy rhapsodies our teller rail against poncey wine-coloured aficionado and their overblown language . I guffaw at this Pot / Kettle lip service but then had to turn back in mid eye - axial rotation . I am a whiskey devotee . Although I think myself classless in my pick of rotgut , I must admit to snorting derisively when someone orders Jack Daniels . and have also cognise to thoroughgoing nonsensicality like , “ clear musical note of maple and vanilla with a broad yet subtle fiery finish ” . Who am I to put down another ’s geekery , especially when lovingly crafted in prose . It is quite touching the mode Lebbon weaves together all the senses into valued memorial of day and universe depart always .
Bar None is a very short novel , perfect for a slothful summer weekend with a “ few ” pints . As always , Lebbon ’s written material is lyrical , introverted and quite literary . The pacing is a bit lackadaisical , more Riddley Walker or The Quiet Earth than Mad Max . Do n’t fret , there is just enough action and some truly freaky revulsion to pique the interest of any musical genre lover , this ai n’t The Road by a long stint . The assumption is offbeat and bizarre , but Lebbon never plays for cheap jape . In the oddment this is a deeply sentimental and knowledgeable facial expression at memory , loss , and those everlasting daytime barbecuing and tossing a few back with good ally . And flesh - rust ogre .
you could purchase Bar None now fromAmazon ,
or support yourlocal independent bookseller .
- Okay , I made those last three diseases up .
Commenter Grey_Area is known to the last drunks on Earth as Chris Hsiang . He enjoy a nice rye , refined with a urine back .
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