2,000 to one
Those are the odds that Ladbrookes, an English bookmaker, has put on a zombie apocalypse at Christmas.
Those are better odds than Crystal Palace winning the Premier League, but not as good as the odds of Prince Harry marrying Miley Cyrus.
Q: With the sea of post apocalyptic YA books that are currently on the market, what do you think makes The Farm & The Lair stand out among the herd? yeah I know you want to throw some dung at me with my lame jokes. *maniacal laughter*
Emily McKay: Oh that’s a tough question! Especially since there are so many great books out there. It’s a good herd to be in! :-)
I guess if I have to find an answer to that, I’ll say that they’re different from a lot of post-apocalyptic books, because in The Farm and The Lair the apocalypse happened recently–like in the past year. In most post-apocalyptic fiction, the apocalypse was decades ago or even generations ago. For example, Katniss has no knowledge of modern day America (or very little). Aria and Perry (from Veronica Rossi’s fab Under the Never Sky series) are only vaguely aware of our world and lives. My character’s Mel and Lily are of our world. They’re us but thrust into an unimaginable situation.— Interview with Emily McKay, author of The Farm and The Lair, on My Shelf Confessions.
What does it all mean? Not that these figures will once actually appear as described on earth. On the contrary, the apocaylptical riders symbolise recurrent aspects of earth’s existence, characteristics of world-evolution with the incidents that mark it. They do not gallop that one ultimate hour through history, but again and again. Whenever certain events take place, it is they, the horsemen, who ride over the world.
Apocalyptical riders — what, exactly, does the adjective signify? Not merely something predicted, but something suggestive of the sense of our transitoriness in the face of eternity, of what becomes of temporal existence when eternity rises to replace it.
From our own human outlook we are apt to feel that existence is complete in itself; that it is the primary, natural, self-understood reality which is the point of departure for all things. Behind it is nothing. Once the natural explanation for a thing has been given, it seems comprehensible and proper. The eternal, on the other hand, is apparently secondary, a mere backdrop that can be sensed, hoped or feared; never definitely known, for its existence is too uncertain. One may take it or leave it. It is possible to say — perhaps even with conviction — that it is non-existent, that the temporal is everything.
In the realm of the Apocalypse, the eternal stirs, swells to a tremendous power that pushes in our neat little doors. The temporal, which only a moment ago seemed so self-sufficient and safe, begins to totter. Its very ‘naturalness; vanishes, and it reveals itself as it is: transitoriness in revolt, existing as though God were non-existent. Ripped from its self-complacency and suddenly strange and terrified, its profound questionableness becomes evident. The apocalyptical is that which reveals temporality’s true face when it has been demasked by the eternal.— Romano Guardini, The Lord, Trans. Elinor Castendyk, 502. (via thirstygargoyle)