A Book Review of Class Three, by Duncan P Bradshaw (Buy it here on Amazon.)
A synopsis, Rafflecopter drawing, and author info follow my review.
This whimsical doomsday tale heaps on gratuitous gore and offbeat comedy in equal measure. A zombie apocalypse junkie expecting gnawed fingers, ripped out spleens, weeping limb stubs, and exploding rotten undead heads won’t be disappointed. Such scenes weren’t really disturbing, but instead campy and tongue-in-cheek. I experienced my first belly laugh in the beginning of the second chapter, when author Duncan Bradshaw described an aging bartender with a beer gut, “creating a fabric overhang almost lending an air of mystery, to which his equally stained grey trousers removed. A mop of grey and black hair sat atop his Costa del Sol-tanned head, awkwardly positioned as if it had been put there as a joke.” The guy is cleaning glasses with a filthy bar towel and offering worldly advice to Jim (one of the main characters) who had just been dumped by a girlfriend. I don’t know why I found the scene so funny—maybe because the first chapter was rather sad. The zombies have already been introduced and good people have been murdered by the time you read the bar scene, but Bradshaw takes time for a laugh in the midst of carnage.
The whole novel reads like that—grisly death, then light-hearted laughter, then disgusting spilled offal, then witty pop-culture joke. There is another bar scene towards the end that is hilarious. Drunk people are just funny fighting zombies. There’s more to the story than a clever dichotomy, though. One of the things I liked most was reading the chapters that were from the zombie point of view. I think that was a first for me. And by the end of the book, I realized that Bradshaw had only just peeled back the layers of a more complicated plot in store.
Cultist religious zealots cause nearly as much damage as the multiplying zombies, and a pair of sociopathic serial killers are laying plans for something even more gruesome than the massacre they carried out in Class Three’s climax. Oddly, a love story is woven through the story, and the conclusion comes full circle to reintroduce one of the more interesting characters from the beginning pages. I’m intrigued; I’d read the sequel.
Hungover, dumped and late for work.
On an ordinary day, one of these would be a bad morning, but today Jim Taylor also has to contend with the zombie apocalypse.
Follow Jim through twenty four hours of Day One, as he and his zombie obsessed brother deal with the undead, a doomsday cult and maniacs in their quest to get to their parents, win his girlfriend back and for them to instigate ‘The Plan’.
Worlds will collide and fall apart in a Class Three outbreak.
I live in the simply marvelous county of Wiltshire in England with my wife Debbie and our two cats, Rafa and Pepe.
We wile away the wee hours learning arcane incantations and medieval wind instruments, surviving solely on what our two furry faced fellows bring us. Winter is a bleak time indeed, when the common vole, the staple of our diet slumbers deep within the earth.
I am a little obsessed with the undead, and devour (sorry) with my eyes anything relating to a zombie apocalypse. It means I have to wade through a lot of drivel, but once in a while I happen across something a bit different or so genuinely mental I weep softly as I didn’t think of it first.
I suffer my day job with as good grace as I can muster, looking forward to getting home each day to continue with something creative.
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