This books sucks so much, I'm speechless. 
 ... 
 It reminds me of The Hills Have Eyes. Everyone told me how amazingly scary and jarring that movie was, and that I would get nightmares just by watching the credits at the start. Needless to say, I was less than enthusiastic, so I thought nothing more of it. 
 A while back I called my then-boyfriend and suggested we hang out. He said he'd be over in half an hour, and he'd bring movies with him. I thought, "goodie!" because let's face it; it's the summer, and I'm bored. True say. 
 Anyway, he came in the door and waved 28 Weeks Later in my face, which I happily watched because I love Robert Carlyle. Then when it was done, he whipped out The Hills Have Eyes and I rolled my eyes solidly for about eighteen minutes. I initially refused to even let it near the Xbox, but then he blackmailed me, threatening to tell all of my friends that I'd read the whole of Halo. I threw the disc at the Xbox and sat down to watch with a big fat scowl on my face. 
 As it went on, I found myself feeling very little emotion towards it. By the time we were halfway through, I was bored and unconvinced. I looked at him and said: 
 "I'm reviewing this on my blog. No shit." 
 It was incredibly un-scary and an offense to disfigured people. I wasn't so much affected by the violence and cliched plot as I was the strong message against nuclear war. 
 Is the CND secretly behind this? 
 (EDIT: Okay, so I watched the end of The Hills Have Eyes and it was in fact considerably better than the first half. Plus, that was one hell of a fight scene, and Ruby just made me want to cry. It still wasn't the slightest bit scary, though, even though it was really, really trying to be. It was just sad. 
 Glad the geeky badass got his baby back, though. That was a close call.) 
 Anyway, this book is kind of like that. Everyone tells you it's amazing and action-packed and deep, and that the mythology is so unique, and that you'll be able to identify with the totes awesome main character, but then when you actually sit down with it, you realize that there are dust streaks on the TV screen and that when the dog looks at you like that, with that little sideways glance, it's almost as if she knows what you're thinking. 
 Creepy. 
 I got about fifty pages in and gave up. I was being told absolutely everything, and it was all just words without a voice. Was Laurel ever actually there? It didn't feel like it. She was completely devoid of any sort of personality. She wasn't even annoying. She was just a wet rag. Emotionless and stiff. I could also go into the fact that Laurel's parents are probably the worst in the world, due to their failure to notice her classic symptoms of anorexia; she, after all, does consider half a canned peach an indulgence and she still has no inkling of her period at age fifteen. She practically retches at the thought of eating anything that isn't green and she only accepts meals because she's told to. I don't care how this is connected to the mythology - it's dangerous and a terrible message to convey to young people. Whatever point this dreadful book is trying to prove, it's failing. Miserably. 
 I could go into David and Chelsea and the lawnmower, but frankly, I have better things to do. Even writing this review is incredibly boring. I don't have the energy to carry on. This book was just insipid and stupid and a blatant Twilight-baby. It doesn't even try to hide it. 
 The mythology was not interesting or innovative enough for me to invest myself in it. The writing was juvenile and awful, and for the life of me I can't understand why anyone would want to print this crap. 
 I should have known. I picked this up, even though Stephenie Meyer recommended it. Serves me right.