Like a teacher you remember long after you have forgotten the name of the class, Station Eleven is the kind of book that, long after you have forgotten its name, will still make you think about the things that matter. It is a disjointed and slow novel that follows a handful of characters who experience the epidemic that destroys most of humanity and then have to survive it.

The recurring theme, [heavy-]handily painted on the side of the Traveling Symphony's caravan, is that Survival is insufficient. I struggle with post-apocalyptic books because I find myself constantly wondering what the point is. I'm not interested in reading about a bunch of characters who forage for food and die shortly after the book ends. The characters have to be really exemplary to make that work, and unfortunately this cast was largely bland. I really wanted to like this book, but it didn't say anything new.