Emily St. John Mandel,
Station Eleven. This is a pretty solid example of the post-apocalyptic genre. I think it's always interesting to imagine living in the ruins of civilization. It is also a lovely novel in its own right, a little dreamy story spooling out in a satisfying sequence. I like books that scoff at probability; where every person who ever happens to interact is connected by some far-fetched set of circumstances. Probably brain damage caused by too much Dickens in childhood.
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