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It's the end of the world. Six students have taken cover in Cortege High but shelter is little comfort when the dead outside won't stop pounding on the doors. One bite is all it takes to kill a person and bring them back as a monstrous version of their former self. To Sloane Price, that doesn't sound so bad. Six months ago, her world collapsed and since then, she's failed to find a reason to keep going. Now seems like the perfect time to give up. As Sloane eagerly waits for the barricades to fall, she's forced to...
It's the end of the world. Six students have taken cover in Cortege High but shelter is little comfort when the dead outside won't stop pounding on the doors. One bite is all it takes to kill a person and bring them back as a monstrous version of their former self. To Sloane Price, that doesn't sound so bad. Six months ago, her world collapsed and since then, she's failed to find a reason to keep going. Now seems like the perfect time to give up. As Sloane eagerly waits for the barricades to fall, she's forced to witness the apocalypse through the eyes of five people who actually want to live. But as the days crawl by, the motivations for survival change in startling ways and soon the group's fate is determined less and less by what's happening outside and more and more by the unpredictable and violent bids for life--and death--inside. When everything is gone, what do you hold on to?
"Courtney Summers is a ferocious talent in YA fiction. This Is Not a Test brought me to tears, caused me to gasp in shock in public places, and almost put a stop to my heart . . . Summers' voice is raw with emotion, and utterly right for the impending zombie apocalypse."—Nova Ren Suma, author of Imaginary Girls
"[Courtney Summers] blends all the perfection and simplicity that defines her writing so well with this added paranormal element for a snappy, exciting story I just couldn't stop reading, and then I got to the very end and realized that it was about so much more than just making it out alive."—Julie Cross, author of Tempest
"Intriguing.... It takes some artistic guts to set a portrayal of a suicidal teenager amid attacking zombies, but Summers has a history of risky choices.... Unusual and absorbing."—Kirkus
SEVEN DAYS LATER
"Get the door! Get the tables against the fucking door, Trace—move!"
In a perfect world, I'm spinning out. I'm seven days ago, sleeping myself into nothingness. Every breath in and out is shallower than the last until, eventually, I stop. In a perfect world, I'm over. I'm dead. But in this world, Lily took the pills with her and I'm still alive. I'm climbing onstage before Cary notices and gives me something to do even though I should be doing something. I should help. I should be helping because seconds are critical. He said this over and over while we ran down streets, through alleys, watched the community center fall, hid out in empty houses and he was right—seconds are critical.
You can lose everything in seconds.
"Harrison, Grace, take the front! Rhys, I need you in the halls with me—"
I slip past the curtain. I smell death. It's all over me but it's not me, not yet. I am not dead yet. I run my hands over my body, feeling for something that doesn't belong. We were one street away and they came in at all sides with their arms out, their hands reaching for me with the kind of sharp-teethed hunger that makes a person—them. Cary pulled me away before I could have it, but I thought—I thought I felt something, maybe—
"Sloane? Where's Sloane?"
I can't reach far enough behind my back.
"Rhys, the halls—"
"Where is she?"
"We have to get in the halls now!"
I look up. Boxy forms loom overhead, weird and ominous. Stage lights. And I don't know why but I dig my cell phone out of my pocket and I dial Lily. If this is it, I want her to know. I want her to hear it. Except her number doesn't work anymore, hasn't worked since she left, and I don't know how I forgot that. I can't believe I forgot that. Instead of Lily, that woman's voice is in my ear: Listen closely. She sounds familiar, like someone's mother. Not my mother. I was young when she died. Lily was older. Car accident ...
"Sloane!" Rhys pushes the curtain back and spots me. I drop the phone. It clatters to the floor. "What the hell are you doing? We've got to move—" He takes in the look on my face and his turns to ash. "Are you bit? Did you get bitten?"
"I don't know—" I unbutton my shirt and pull it off and I know he sees all of me before I can turn away, but I don't care. I have to know. "I can't see anything—I can't feel it—"
Rhys runs his hands over my back, searching for telltale marks. He murmurs prayers under his breath while I hold mine.
"It's okay—you're good—you're fine—you're alive—"
The noises in the auditorium get louder with the frantic scrambling of people who actually want to live, but I'm still.
I'm good, I'm fine.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure—now come on—come on, we have to—"
Good, fine. I'm fine. I'm fine, I'm fine. He grabs my arm. I shrug him off and put my shirt back on more slowly than I should. I am fine. I'm alive.
I don't even know what that means.
"Look, we've got to get back out there," he says as I do up my buttons. "There are three other doors that need to be secured—" He grabs my arm and turns me around. "Look at me—are you ready? Sloane, are you ready?"
I open my mouth but nothing comes out.
SEVEN HOURS LATER
This must be what Dorothy felt like, I think. Maybe. If Dorothy was six scared teenagers and Oz was hell. No, this must be a joke; we are six scared teenagers and our high school is one of the last buildings in Cortege that is still in one piece and I'm not sure I can think of a better or worse place to spend the end of days. It was supposed to be the community center. We went there first like we were told—the town's designated emergency shelter for the kind of emergencies we were assured would likely never happen—and it was the first place to fall. There were too many of us and too many of them. Somehow, we fought our way from one side of town to the other. In another life, the trip would have taken forty minutes.
In this one, it took seven days.
The radio crackles the prerecorded voice of that woman at us over and over. We have done everything she has told us to do. We have locked and barricaded all the doors. We have covered the windows so no one can see outside and—more importantly—nothing can see in. "Do not draw attention to yourself," the woman says, but if we know anything by now, it's that. "Once you have found a secure location, stay where you are and help will come soon." Cary sits on the stage across from me, waiting for the message to change. It doesn't.
"This is not a test. Listen closely. This is not a test."
But I think she's wrong. I think this is a test.
It has to be.
Grace and Trace sit on the floor below. She's whispering in his ear and he's nodding to whatever she's saying and he doesn't look right. He looks sick. He reaches for his sister's hand and holds it tightly, pressing his fingers into her skin like he's making sure she exists. After a while, he feels me looking at him and turns his pale face in my direction. I hold his gaze until the chaos outside breaks my concentration. Outside, where everything is falling, landing and breaking at once. Sometimes you catch something specific like the screams and cries of people trying to hold on to each other before they're swallowed into other, bigger noises.
This is what it sounds like when the world ends.
I take in the auditorium. The cheery purple and beige walls, the matching banners that hang from the ceiling, the Rams posters (GO RAMS, GO!) taped up all over. It was Cary's idea to come to the school. After we found the community center overrun, we heard that woman's voice on the phone. Find a place. He didn't even hesitate before he said CHS. Cortege High. It was built to be the most distraction-free learning environment in the county, which means maximum windows for minimal view. Strategically placed transoms line the classrooms and halls, save for skylights in the auditorium and gym. Two large windows open up the right side of the second and third floors and overlook the school's parking lot. They're covered now.
"It's still happening," Harrison says.
I follow his tearful gaze to the exit just right of the stage. The doors open into the parking lot which bleeds out into the streets of Cortege, a half-dead, half-dying town. They're locked, the doors. Locked and covered with lunch tables reinforced by desks, thanks to Rhys and me. Every entrance and exit in here is the same. The idea is nothing gets past these barriers we've created. We spent the first five hours here putting them up. We've spent the last two shaking and quiet, waiting for them to fall.
"Of course it's still happening," Rhys mutters. "Why wouldn't it be?"
Cary turns the radio off and eases himself onto the floor. He looks like he has something to say but first he runs his hands through his black hair, letting his eyes travel over each of us. Cary Chen. We followed him for days. Lily used to buy pot from him sometimes and sometimes I wanted to, but I thought that would make English class weird and I don't know if she always paid in cash.
"Listen, I—" He sounds sandpaper rough from screaming instructions at us for hours and never once taking a breath. He clears his throat. "Phone?"
Trace makes a gurgling noise, digs his hand into his pocket, pulls out his cell, and frantically dials a number, but it's no use. The woman's voice drones over each desperate push of the buttons, a condensed version of what we're getting on the radio. I watch the sound work its way into Trace's bones, his blood. His face turns white and he whips his phone across the room. It breaks into three pieces; the back flies off, the battery falls out, and the body skitters across the shiny linoleum floor. Nothing works anymore and the things that still do don't work like they should.
"I can't get through," he says flatly.
Cary picks up the pieces and fits them back in place.
"Give it more time. You will."
"Think they'd pick up if I did?"
I watch Cary, waiting to see if he'll defend himself. He doesn't. He turns the cell phone over and over in his hands and says, "Trace, the message is a good thing. I think it means they're leaving priority signal for emergency workers."
Harrison sniffs. "So they can save us?"
"Yeah." Cary nods. "We'll be saved."
"And that's your expert opinion?" Trace asks.
Cary shrugs but he doesn't look Trace in the eyes, focusing instead on the doors. His expression reveals nothing, but he's turning the phone in his hands faster now, clumsily.
"It just makes sense," he says.
"That's what you said about coming here. That really paid off for me and Grace." Cary winces.
"He got the rest of us here," Rhys says.
There were eight of us, before.
"Oh, so I'm here. Hey, Grace!" Trace turns to her. "You're here. We're here with Cary Chen." He laughs bitterly. "You think that means anything to us when—"
"Trace, stop." Grace sounds just broken enough that Trace doesn't take it any further. He frowns, holds out his hand to Cary and says, "Give me back my fucking phone."
Cary stares at it like he doesn't want to give it up, like Trace's cell phone is an anchor keeping him here but I don't know why anyone would want to be anchored here.
"Now," Trace says.
Cary holds it out and finally looks Trace in the eyes.
"I'm sorry," he says, "about your parents."
Trace rips the phone from Cary's grasp.
I close my eyes and imagine this place under totally normal circumstances. We have assemblies here. The principal gives speeches here. We eat in this room at lunch. I imagine a day, any school day, setting up the lunch tables and getting in line, picking from the menu. I can almost smell the food ...
But then the noises outside get louder than anything I can imagine. They pump through my veins, speed up my heart, and remind me to be afraid even though I have never stopped being afraid, not since Lily left. I open my eyes at the same time the whole barricade seems to shift. Rhys rushes to it, pushing against the desks and tables until they're settled again.
"What was that?" Harrison asks. "Why did it—"
"It's just the way this desk was—it wasn't the door—"
"It's the door?"
"It wasn't the door. Just calm down, Harrison. Jesus."
Harrison starts to cry. He stands in the middle of the room and holds himself because no one else will and it's the loneliest thing I've ever seen. I'd go to him, maybe, but I don't even know Harrison. None of us do. He's one of those invisible freshmen made even more invisible by the fact he just moved here four weeks ago. Cary had to ask him his name after we found him trapped under a bike with his jeans caught in the spokes.
Things I know about Harrison now: not only is he short and stocky, he also cries. A lot. Grace takes pity on him because she's better than I'll ever be. She wraps her arm around him and murmurs gentle-sounding words at him and I watch his sobs slowly turn to gasps that turn into pathetic little hiccups. Everyone else averts their eyes. They find things to do so they don't have to watch. I watch because I don't know what else to do. I watch until I can't anymore. I dig my hand into my pockets. My fingers curl around a crumpled piece of paper.
I take it out and unfold it.
The voice is quiet, close. I shove the note back in my pocket. Rhys hovers at the edge of the stage. His brown hair sticks up everywhere and his brown eyes are bloodshot. Things I know about Rhys: he's a senior. Our lockers are across from each other.
He put his hands on me and told me I was okay.
He has a case of water in his arms. He sets it on the stage and holds a bottle out to me. I don't even ask him where he got it, just rip it from his hands. I remember us huddled around this old birdbath yesterday, yesterday morning. We cupped our palms together and lapped up all the dirty, stagnant water and it tasted so awful but so, so wonderful because we were so desperate and isn't everything better when you're desperate? We managed to forget our parched mouths and cracked lips while we secured the school and settled into the last two hours, but now I don't even know how that's possible because I am so fucking thirsty. I down the water quickly and then I want more. Rhys hands me another and watches me drink it too. I drink until I feel like the ocean is in my stomach and when I'm done, I'm spent. I curl my knees up to my chin and wrap my arms around them. Rhys gives me a crooked smile.
"Still here," he says. "We made it."
"Is that water?" Trace calls from his side of the room. "Is that really water?"
I turn my face to the doors.
I jolt awake, forget where I am for a second. Everyone is laid out around me, asleep on the dusty blue gym mats we dragged in from the storage room. The last thing we had energy for, the last thing we could do for ourselves before we totally crashed.
I raise my head and listen.
It's just deep breathing, the noises outside, and nothing else.
I listen hard, but there's nothing else.
I pull at the collar of my shirt and rest my head against the mat. My clothes feel scratchy and awful against my skin, which is covered in a layer of sweat. I force my eyes shut and drift or maybe it's sleep and then I think I hear him again—Sloane—and I jerk awake again and this time, when I close my eyes I see the living room floor covered in little pieces of red glass.
After a while, I give up on sleep. I check my watch. It's almost six a.m. I have to pee. My muscles protest as I edge off the mat. The floor is cold and my toes curl in on themselves. I cross the room and step into the hall. It's an open mouth that forks off in different directions. The tiled floors shine weirdly under the emergency lights lining the ceiling. They wash out the uninterrupted stretch of beige and purple walls and make them almost seem to glow. I feel like a ghost underneath them. The robot beep that happens just before an announcement comes over the loudspeakers drifts through my head. It's that woman on the phone and on the radio and she wants us all to listen closely. I imagine this place crowded with students, all our faces tilted up. Everything about this is wrong. This school was never built to be empty.
Maybe it's not safe to be out here alone.
Maybe I should go back and wake someone up.
If anything happens, it will just happen to me.
I push through the doors to the girls' room and head straight for the sinks where I'm sick. The sound of myself retching makes me retch more. The only way I get myself to stop is by forcing myself to straighten before I'm finished. Bile dribbles down my chin. I twist the faucets without thinking.
Water. Comes. Out.
Does everyone know this? Did they find out before me? I avoided the taps when I was in here before because I didn't want to end up disappointed if they didn't work but they work and no one said a word to me about it. Running water. I stare at the gushing faucet for too long and then I hold my hands under the stream and splash my face, my neck. Dip my wet hands below my shirt. My body trembles in gratitude but I have no idea who to thank. I turn the faucet off and then I turn it on again just to be sure of what I saw, that I didn't imagine it.
I didn't imagine it.
The water is real. It moves effortlessly from spout to drain.
I turn it off. I use the toilet. When I come out of the stall, I'm confronted by something else I've managed to avoid. My reflection. My skin is tinged green and my brown hair is greasy, strands all clumped together, hanging around my face. There's a bruise directly below my right eye and I'm not sure how it got there. I trace it with my fingertips. I look better than I did three weeks ago. Funny. The end of the world has done less damage to my face.
I laugh. I lean against the sink and laugh so hard my sides split and I die and it's good. I press my hands against the mirror. Over my face. The glass feels weird and unreal against my palms. If you break glass into pieces, you can use one of those pieces as a highly effective weapon against another human being. Right through the eye. I saw it. I saw it, I did, I saw it. I stare at my fingernails. They're ruined, cracked. Rhys and Cary found me sitting in the middle of the road, six streets away from my home, digging my fingernails into the pavement. They thought I was trying to get to my feet, that I wanted to keep going when really I was just waiting to die because I thought I had actually found Lily's pills and taken them and my brain was inventing this weird dreamscape before it finally shut down for good because how could this be real? How could it be true? The dead don't just come back to life.
By the time I realized it was real, it was true, it was too late to tell Cary and Rhys I wasn't like them. That I didn't want to keep going. They were working so hard to hold on, I knew they wouldn't understand. So I stayed with them.
Mostly because I didn't think we'd make it this far.
Excerpted from This is Not a Test by Courtney Summers. Copyright © 2012 Courtney Summers. Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Posted June 20, 2012
This is definitely one of my favorite books of the year! Seriously, it was superb. It was terrifying and raw, and as far as I am concerned, a definite foreshadow of the future. It is not a question of “if”, but rather “when”.
This first chapter had such an eerie quietness; it was almost like the silence was a character in the book. Do you know what I mean? Like it was thick with silence.
Then there is chaos at the front door. Pandemonium outside. Confusion and blood. Her dad is in a fight with a woman who is clearly deranged. Isn’t she?
There are six teenagers and they’ve made their way to the high school. Rhys, Cary, Trace & Grace (twins), Harrison and of course, Sloane. Somehow, someway they’ve made it past the hordes of infected “people” and they’ve barricaded themselves in the high school. Pretty darn smart if you ask me. You’ve got food, water, entertainment, every facility you could just about hope for. Except Sloane doesn’t want to really survive. She’s been a survivor her whole life, and so much has happened in a short amount of time that her will is just sort of short circuited. You really feel for her. This is a first person point of view, which doesn’t always agree well with me. But in this story it fits the whole urgent-but-waiting theme perfectly. There are a few action scenes, but this book is not battle after battle with the undead. It’s more psychological than that. There are some battles, but it’s not really about the infected, it’s about the survivors.
Part two of this book explores a lot of group mentality issues and how you deal with the zombie apocalypse (my words, not the author’s) as an individual and as a group. It is so interesting how quickly the author immerses you into this story, that you find yourself yelling at the pages. “Don’t go there!!” and “Turn around!!!!” If you find a survivor who isn’t a part of your original core group, well, they are not really a survivor at all then, are they? You can’t trust them, can you? Do you take them in and embrace the addition of another living breathing person, or do you toss them out and make them fend for themselves because you just don’t really know their intentions, do you?
Part three will shake the foundation of everything you’ve come to believe about this story. It is a game changer, and dynamics definitely shift. It’s hard to know what is real and what is not when everything in your life for weeks now seems like something out of someone’s imagination and not the real thing. Courtney Summers does such a perfect job at illustrating the characters with her words, and not just the glamorous good stuff. We get to see all sides of this group. We see how they break down and how they build up, how they handle living now that everything they know has been chewed to pieces.
And Part four, well, part four I’d call hope. Hope to die, hope to live, who the hell knows what you are hoping for. For every person it is different. Personally I was hoping it would never end, the book that is. Put this book on your to-be-read this. Follow it. It’s not just a zombie story; it’s a look at what happens when all hell breaks loose.
16 out of 19 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted June 19, 2012
THIS IS NOT A TEST is the story of a girl during a breakout of a zombie apocalypse. Most zombie books are about survivors of a zombie apocalypse, not the very beginning of one. Sloane doesn't know what's going on. She's not clued in to the fact that those are zombies running around outside her house. She's a poor, abused soul who doesn't understand that the world she so desperately wants out of is ending.
In this day of mega zombie movies, video games, and The Walking Dead, it's unusual to see a take on zombies where the characters aren't hip on the zombie phenomenon. It was refreshing to see how realistically Summers approached such a campy topic. It's not so much a zombie story, as it is a story about people who are trying to survive something horrible. The zombies were scary, yes, but the people were scarier. Everyone, everyone, did horrible things in order to survive.
The book was so full of despair and desperation, that it was almost addicting. It hooked me in a way that I've never been hooked before. I can honestly say that I did not enjoy reading it. It was horrible and depressing and your worst nightmare written down. But it's beautiful because of how horrible it is. And it will drag you in until you just can't look away. You have to finish it, even if it terrifies you. So I didn't enjoy reading it, but I had to read it. I couldn't not. It was too good.
The detail that Summers uses in her writing brings out the true horror of Sloane's situation. This is definitely not a book for the faint of heart. There is gore, adult content, violence and adult language, so if that offends you this might not be the book for you. There are a few sexual situations, nothing very graphic, but still. If you're uncomfortable with subjects like sex, depression, suicide and death, than like I said, this one is probably not for you.
The first word I thought when I finished the book was, "wow". THIS IS NOT A TEST is one of those books where you don't know how it could possibly ever end on a happy note, or even on a good note. And it doesn't. The government doesn't come and save everyone, the zombies don't go away. Sloane doesn't wake up and it was all a horrible nightmare. It's hell, and she's living it, and your living it with her. But in the end, somehow, someway, Courtney Summers manages to give you a little bit of hope when the world she's created is so hopeless. This is definitely Summers at her best.
6 out of 8 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted June 19, 2012
Courtney Summers delivers a unique take on zombies in her genre-bending book.
Sloane's home life sucks with her abusive father. Sloane had her sister Lily to turn to, to love her, to support her, and to suffer with. They made a plan to escape their house together when Sloane turned 18. Except Lily breaks the promise, leaving Sloane to fend for herself. The abuse is so much that Sloane has no reason to have hope anymore. In the initial scenes of the book, it's evident how brutal her life has been, and she immediately garners sympathy. Even though what she wants to do isn't necessarily sympathetic, it's understandable. And when the zombies arrive, Sloane is elated; it's her chance to die.
Then we're tossed into Cortege High School, where Sloane and five fellow students have barricaded themselves. It's frantic and desperate, at least to those five; Sloane is annoyed. Her plans were ruined, and now that she's been dragged to safety, she's even more frustrated. The thing is, she can't seem to find a way away from these people who want to live, and even when she has the chance to end her own suffering, she doesn't.
Sloane is one of the most interesting characters I've read, but she's very challenging. She is obedient in every sense of the word. Because of her father, there's a sense of reluctance in her. She allows herself to be dragged to safety (where it would be easy for her to not), and she doesn't actively seek out her options for dying when she has the chance. Rather, she continues to follow what she believes is the right thing to do. To stay alive. Anything she could feel for herself has been taken away, physically and emotionally. That's part of why she's unable to actually go through with ending her life. Amid all of this, Sloane is likable; there's just enough hope inside her and just enough desire to move forward to make readers pull for her and believe she can survive.
This is a powerful character-driven novel. Despite the zombie apocalypse occurring, what matters is not the undead coming alive but the living coming alive. Secondary characters are fully developed, and they each serve distinct purposes for Sloane. Summers excels in her use of subtlety to develop the characters. There are single lines or short scenes so raw they sting, and they speak volumes to who Sloane really is (who she is, not who she's told she is or who she has come to believe she is). The pacing in the book is deliberately slow, begging the reader to pay attention to these things. The story doesn't drag, though. Summers delivers on strong writing that doesn't try too hard and works to advance these characters.
This is an extremely physical book. Each blow can be felt, as can each of the more tender moments. The book doesn't shy away from brutality nor from being gruesome; despite being heavily vested in reality, it's still a novel about the zombie apocalypse. I felt beat up and bruised reading this; fortunately, I had the same moments of hope and promise Sloane did throughout.
There's a definite conclusion to come away with at the end of the book, and the way it's done is savvy. Sloane has to make a series of very difficult choices that force her to confront everything she's been so eager to shy away from. She'll revisit everything with Lily and her father and come to realize her body and her choices and her life are hers. So while this is a story of survival, it's also a story about what we fight for, and why we fight for things at all.
5 out of 7 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted June 4, 2013
Posted May 23, 2013
This book was a little too young adult for me. The book really played on the tensions and interactions of the teen group during the zombie apocalypse rather than the actual apocalypse itself. As a result I didn’t really connect or like the characters, although the author does do a good job of making you feel sorry for/know where, Sloan, the main character is coming from. It was an interesting but didn’t have the normal action you would see in a normal zombie book.
1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted March 24, 2013
Posted June 22, 2012
Posted December 31, 2014
Posted December 24, 2014
I've read quite a bit of zombie related books over the years and nothing comes close to this book. It's a must read and you won't regret it. I'm so excited that the author decided to make a sequel so I have an excuse to re-read it for the hundreth time....Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted April 7, 2014
Posted March 2, 2014
I really wanted to read This is Not a Test, like really bad. I mean if you know me any bit at all...you know I love zombies. I love the books, the shows, I even just love scouring over Pinterest looking for stuff on zombies. So when I saw This is Not a Test I knew I had to read it. I even slipped it in earlier than scheduled. The cover screams at the readers...READ ME! It's gorgeous! But it's what I found between the covers that got me. And not in a good way.
Let me explain before the masses come and try to spear me like one of the living dead in the story. I just could not connect with Sloane, the girl whose Point of View we get throughout the book. The girl is depressed the entire time. I am talking the entire freakin time. And it brought me down with her. I get that she was abused by her dad, and I guess I am just insensitive towards her, but the girl didn't try to get better. Usually I quit reading stories once I don't connect with the characters. But I couldn't. I had to know what happened to all the kids. Did they make it out of the school alive? Were they infected? Did help find them?
And so here I am continuing on...reading the story...and it's just not any better. I wasn’t crazy about Summers’ writing at all. And found it sometimes jumbled. There are several sentences I had to reread due to lack of understanding. Not understanding on my part, but with what the author was trying to portray. I hate that. If I have to reread a sentence it takes away from the story for me.
I get that a lot of people loved it and have seen reviews of others raving about the ending. But me? Yeah I was not impressed. I think I was even more confused when I got to the ending. When I read a zombie book…I want a zombie book. This was all about Sloane finding herself and deciding on if she really wants to die or not. And to me, quite frankly…I was bored. Hope you will give it a try and see if it is for you. Unfortunately it was just not for me.
Posted January 1, 2014
Not worth the buy.
As a fan of the zombie genre, it was hard for me at times to pick the book back up after having put it down. The story is solid; apocalypse comes, kids take refuge in a school. The logic is there, and the dynamics for the characters are made very clear, but the likability isn't. It seemed like more often than not that I didn't feel the sympathy for the main character that was needed for her to be likable, nor the connection with the other survivors. The characters as a whole seemed flat, and were often focused around one central idea, nothing more.
The ending of the novel all seemed rushed. There were a lot of details that went by very quickly that I had to go back and read more than once to fully get the idea. An attempt to seem fast-paced ended up coming off hurried.
The idea behind the story was good. Bits and pieces were cleverly-written and well-thought-out. In all, though, it seemed poorly executed.
Posted December 19, 2013
Posted December 2, 2013
Before you go: “ugh, not ANOTHER zombie novel!”, just hear me out. I’ll admit that I’m also tired of zombie-themed books. If you’ve read five zombie books, you’ve pretty much read them all (or at least, that’s how I feel). What more can you say about zombies to make it new and original, right? Well, Courtney Summers may use zombies as a theme in this book, but it really forms a very small, though not less important, part of the plot.
How often do you read books with a suicidal protagonist in the lead? In my case, very seldom. That alone was refreshingly different. So, what else is left to focus on? The romance, of course! But, we all know I’m not a big fan of romance, so if I tell you the romance in this book was slow and subtle, it’s something you can count on.
“This is Not a Test” is a character-driven novel that moves at a leisurely pace. Even though I didn’t feel that emotionally invested in the characters, I felt sympathetic towards them, and even more surprisingly, I actually cried at the death of one specific character (who, coincidentally, wasn’t bitten by a zombie). Each character brings something of value to the story and I was so immersed in their plight I finished this quick read in less than a day.
As far as post-apocalyptic novels go, this one has very little action in it, but it is well worth the read for the characters alone.
This is the first of Courtney Summers’ books I’ve read, and I’m definitely going to read more of her books!
Posted July 14, 2013
Posted June 5, 2013
Posted June 4, 2013
Go to 'highschool' result three and find Emma. She very active. Very beautiful, shes extremely popular in MB and head cheerleader. Her last Boyfriend dumped her for a nerd.
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Posted June 4, 2013
Posted June 4, 2013