

Good Lord that was beautiful.
Emily St. John Mandel gives zero shits about the rules of literature. She just does what she does, paints vivid worlds, dances from vignette to vignette and lets it all play out.
Station Eleven took me quite a while to read, whereas I breezed through this spellbound.
Usually I hate it when a plot wanders haphazardly, but this was such a gorgeously written and captivating read that all is forgiven.
⭐⭐⭐⭐ 4 stars