I must admit that I particularly love books like this one. It’s so lovingly odd – almost like the author was told about these things called books and he then decided he’d try writing one. Don’t take that statement as insulting though. The End of the Alphabet is kind of refreshingly without pretention or strict structure. It reads like someone sat down and wrote something. Just because. Which is often the best kind of writing.
Ambrose Zephyr has only thirty days to live, and he has decided to spend them travelling with his wife. Short, sweet, and to the point, The End of the Alphabet takes you through Ambrose’s diagnoses to his death without any flair or overtly emotional sentiment, but somehow the simplicity of the entire story allows you to fill in your own emotional blanks. I imagine this tactic might not work for everyone, but CS Richardson certainly owns the style with flair.
Should you read it? Yes. Especially if you’re a busy person and would like something you could get through in an afternoon. Richardson is Lemoney Snickett without the quirk.