The book that could make you wish you had a Mormon neighbor

...or even make you wish you were Mormon. A year's worth of peanut butter is MINT!

Day 9- A Book You've Read More Than Once

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ANOTHER post-apocalyptic book in this list-o of mine. What makes this one different is I think, at least I hope, that this is a closer, more accurate portrayal of how humans might behave in such a situation...mainly because there's not a whole lot of the crazy hoodoo voodoo you can find in other apocalyptic novels. No mystical black woman, no savior child, no vampires, thank God.

Randy is a sorta, kinda lawyer who lives in Florida. He and his brother, a military intelligence and security high muckety-muck, have a code phrase for when the shit's about to hit the fan. Derived from the Book of Revelations, it kind of says it all... Alas, Babylon. Just so happens to be the title of the book too. Just so.  He's fun to read about because he's like Noah (of the Ark?) but without the hubristic, Deliverence-esque "It gonna rain, you gonna die unless you TWO BY TWO!"

Okay, that part's just a little fudged. Nah, Randy's likable because when his bro tells him that there's trouble a-coming, Randy goes out to the store and buys a shitload of steaks and whiskey. He puts the steak in the freezer. Shortly after he does this, the (SPOILER ALERT) bomb goes off and the electricity goes out. 

All that meat defrosts and it makes him sad. Not the fact that his life as he knew is over...no, he's sad about the steaks. He rallies though, with a massive cookout. I like that about him.

So, yeah. Just so you know, I usually reread books. 

A quick YouTube search revealed that high school students were/are reading this book still. They're making movie trailer and newscasts for their English classes. Well done, I say. My mom had this book on hand one day. I think she held out for a day when my 15 or 16 year old self was shuffling around the house, walking into walls, thumbing books I'd read and reread too recently to have held my interest. Really, I was an odd duck, hating summer the way I did. Possibly irritated beyond her capacity for teenage shenanigans for the day, she handed it over to me. I think she said she read it when she was around my age. 

Pat Frank and I became quite close that summer as I lay outside on the wooden patio table, reading his tale of sociological and political breakdown. It's one of those books I use as a litmus test of someone's aptitude to be my friend. If they've read it, then they KNOW and need no further vetting. If they haven't, then they have to be willing to read it when I shove in their faces. Right then. No waiting. 

I think my ex-Mormon friends've read it... so they already KNOW. Do you? Or do you need some Harper Perennial pages shoved in your face ninja-style?