I recommend this 337-page novel for Democrats, liberals, atheists, and anti-Christians, especially those who like the movies “I am Legend” with Will Smith and “Cast Away” with Tom Hanks.

The story is told in the form of diary entries by the protagonist, Miranda, a normal 16-year-old girl living in a Pennsylvania suburb with her divorced mother, college-age brother Matt, and younger brother Jonny. The interesting premise is that an asteroid knocks the moon into a lower orbit, which in turn causes global disaster. The ensuing hardships toughen Miranda and her family and cause them to grow closer.

It’s too bad that the editor or publisher didn’t request a light rewrite to make the novel more palatable for Republicans, conservatives, and Christians (thereby broadening its appeal) because the author, while not as good as, say, Meg Cabot, is certainly good enough to do justice to the story’s promising premise.

In the remainder of this review, I’ll talk a little bit about the anti-Republican and anti-Christian parts of the novel. First I’ll mention the superficial anti-Republican parts, then the more substantive anti-Christian parts, and lastly I will briefly criticize the story’s conclusion, from a dramatic as well as an ideological standpoint.

There are spoilers below, so you might not want to read on if you intend to read this novel.

The anti-Republican Parts

On page 20, right after the asteroid hits the moon, CNN goes off the air:

         “Should I try Fox News?” I asked.

         Mom shuddered. “We’re not that desperate,” she said.

Miranda’s mother also doesn’t like President Bush. And the dialogue the author writes for Bush, though not too bad, rings false. On page 25, they’re watching TV:

        “Idiot,” Mom muttered, and she sounded so normal we all laughed.

On page 43 and 44:

        The president was on TV tonight. He didn’t say much that we didn’t already know. Tsunamis and floods. Untold numbers of people dead, the moon out of its orbit, etc. Monday is a national day of mourning, and we should all pray a lot.

        He did say, and he didn’t look too happy about it, that we needed to prepare ourselves for even worse. Jonny asked Mom what that could mean, but Mom said she didn’t know, but she guessed the president did only he didn’t want to tell us because he was an evil jerk.

        That was the first normal-sounding thing Mom’s said in days, and we all laughed.

On page 321, after being isolated for a while and not knowing what’s going on in the rest of the world, Miranda and her family get radio reception back:

        “In other news today, the president said the country has turned the corner. Better times are predicted for the weeks to come with life being back to normal by May.”

        “The idiot’s still alive!” Mom cried. “And he’s still an idiot!”

        We burst out laughing.

It would be easy to simply cut out these parts; the story would lose nothing and would instantly gain appeal for those who don’t dislike President Bush, not to mention those who like him.

The anti-Christian Theme

Because the anti-Christian parts are more intrinsic to the novel, the best thing to do would be to rewrite them; but cutting them out completely would hardly hurt the story.

The backstory of the anti-Christian sub-plot: Miranda’s best friends used to be Megan, Becky, and Sammi. By the time of the story, they’ve grown apart, not just because of the normal growing apart of friends, but also because Becky has died after an illness. This causes Megan, formerly Miranda’s best friend, to convert to Christianity, and Sammi to become promiscuous. Miranda, presented as the level-headed atheist, has stayed pretty much the same.

This backstory could have been developed into theme of how different people react to tragedy. Instead, the author develops it into a theme on the destructiveness of Christianity.

With a little re-writing, the novel could have presented arguments both for and against Christianity and let the reader read into it what he will.

Just as the author’s dialogue for President Bush rings false, so does the dialogue for Megan the Christian. But even more so. On page 53 and 54, Megan and Miranda talk about the disasters afflicting the earth:

        “This is the first time in a week that I’ve left Reverend Marshall,” she said. “We’ve been sleeping at the church, just getting an hour or two of sleep each day so we can keep praying. Isn’t it wonderful, what God is doing?”

*             *             *

        “What does your mom say about all this?” I asked. Megan’s mom used to like Reverend Marshall, but she’s never been as crazy about him as Megan.

        “She doesn’t understand,” Megan said. “She’s a good woman, really she is, but she lacks faith. I pray for her soul, just the way I pray for yours.”

        “Megan,” I said, like I was trying to grab the friend I’d loved for years and bring her back to reality. “There are no more hot lunches. Half the time there’s no electricity. I live five miles from school and gas costs nine dollars a gallon and we can’t use the pool anymore.”

        “Those are just earthly concerns,” Megan said. “Miranda, admit your sins and embrace Our Lord. You won’t care about hot lunches and the cost of gas in heaven.”

I could quote more passages like that, but you get the idea. The author doesn’t seem to know too many Christians (if any) and it shows in her characterization of them.

Later in the novel, Megan starves herself to death. Her mother, a single mother like Miranda’s own mother, hangs herself. When Miranda hears that Megan and her mother are dead, she visits Reverend Marshall, who is an even flatter character than Megan and who has even fewer redeeming qualities. On page 222:

        “You’re eating,” I said. “Your congregation is starving and you’re eating. Do you make them give you food?”

        “My congregation chooses to bring me food,” he said. “I merely accept what they offer.”

        “You’re despicable,” I said, and I don’t know which one of us was more surprised that I even knew the word. “I don’t believe in hell so I’m not going to say I hope you end up there. I hope you’re the last person living on earth. I hope the whole world dies before you and you’re left here healthy and well fed and alone. Then you’ll know what Mrs. Wayne felt. Then you’ll know what impure really is.”

        “I’ll pray for you,” he said. “As Megan would have wished me to.”

        “Don’t bother,” I said. “I don’t want any favors from your God.”

The politically correct conclusion to the story

Just as Miranda and her family, holed up in their home, are about to starve to death, the local government arrives with free food, and the promise of more to come. They’re saved. The end.

From a dramatic point of view, this is not that satisfying because it is a deus ex machina.

Also, if the novel didn’t have its anti-Republican and anti-Christian parts, this ending might be easier to take, deus ex machina or not. But in light of the anti-Republican and anti-Christian themes, the reader is much more apt to see this happy ending as politically liberal because it’s a government hand-out.

It’s not federal government welfare, because that would be giving President Bush some credit, which is something the author has demonstrated she doesn’t want to do.

And it’s not a Christian hand-out (such as the Salvation Army or Catholic Charities).

No. It’s secular welfare from the local government that saves the day.

--Swordfish