by Jeff Vandermeer

If you like speculative fiction, you won't be able to put this down. When surviving takes all your energy, can you afford to trust and love? Let alone raise a child... And what if this child isn't human? But what does 'human' mean?


I was twenty-eight years old and from another country. Someone who scavenged for a living and who, when not searching for bits of biotech, took care of a child who wasn't human. I was good at using weapons. I could sniff out a trap from a distance. I had no formal education, but had been home-taught well and could read at an advanced level. I could, with Wick's guidance, grow things in my bathroom that I could eat. That was the treasure that was me, and every time I went out I would need to gauge who would ignore the resume to gather the protein or want the skill set, or want the skill set snuffed out.


Anna by Niccolo Ammaniti
Tsotsi by Athol Fugard
I Am Legend by Richard Matheson

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