A zombie who yearns for a better life ends up falling in love—with a human—in this astonishingly original debut novel.
R is a zombie. He has no memories, no identity, and no pulse, but he has dreams. He doesn’t enjoy killing people; he enjoys riding escalators and listening to Frank Sinatra. He is a little different from his fellow Dead.
Not just another zombie novel, Warm Bodies is funny, scary, and deeply moving.
The first thing that drew me in was the fact that Isaac told the story from R’s (the hero’s) point of view. Watching a guy fall in love, especially a zombie, was so intriguing. Throughout the entire book, I wasn’t sure how things could possibly end well; because, after all, the hero is a zombie. Eats brains, does the death shuffle, that type of thing. I won’t give anything away, but the ending will surprise you.
Another aspect of this story that was so unique was what happened when zombies actually ate human brains. Read the book to find out!
You can’t help but root for R. He’s witty, smart and hopelessly romantic, even if he can’t remember his name or what he did before the outbreak happened. Zombie stories—what with the flesh eating and all—can get a little gory, but I never once thought about that while reading Warm Bodies. The beautifully crafted sentences and underlying humor held me spellbound. I flew through the pages, but had to force myself to slow down and savor the ending… I wanted more! I am so glad I read this book, and I absolutely cannot wait to see what comes next! Give me book two, Isaac!!
Highly recommend you move this one to the top of your TBR list.
****Favorite lines**** Okay, so this wasn’t even all of them. I had to cut quite a few or I’d give the entire book away and Isaac probably wouldn’t like that! Enjoy!!
Faint impressions of past lives that linger like phantom limbs.
But it does make me sad that we’ve forgotten our names. Out of everything, this seems to me the most tragic. I miss my own and I mourn for everyone else’s, because I’d like to love them, but I don’t know who they are.
It’s simple but senseless, arbitrary laws from some lunatic legislator in the sky.
Being dead is easy.
In my mind I am eloquent; I can climb intricate scaffolds of words to reach the highest cathedral ceilings and paint my thoughts. But when I open my mouth, it all collapses.
The sparkle of life sprays out of his cells like citrus mist from an orange peel, and I suck it in.
I crush her against me. I want to be part of her. Not just inside her but all around her. I want our rib cages to crack open and our hearts to migrate and merge. I want our cells to braid together like living thread.
But then she screams again, and something inside me moves, a feeble moth struggling against a web.
I look at her blankly. Hungry? Does she want an arm or leg? Hot blood, meat and life? She’s Living . . . does she want to eat herself?
She is Living and I’m Dead, but I’d like to believe we’re both human. Call me an idealist.
I long for exclamation marks, but I’m drowning in ellipses.
Nora stares at me like I’m Sasquatch, the Chupacabra, maybe a unicorn.
“Come on,” she encourages. “Use your words.”
I would like my life to be a movie so I could cut to a montage.
I’m just a corpse who wants not to be.