Hollow Kingdom is NOT a romance novel, I repeat NOT a romance novel. However, I believe some of our readers will, like me, see the crow and dog on the front cover and the octopus on the back and say “GIVE IT TO MEEE.” This review is for you.

Much profanity ahead. TW for gore, profanity, violence between animals, and gratuitous Cheeto® consumption. This is not Bambi. Actually, Bambi was terrifying, so…maybe it is Bambi, if Bambi dropped more f-bombs and was set in Seattle.

Most of the book is narrated by a domesticated crow named Shit Turd (S.T.) who lives with a human man that S.T. calls Big Jim. Here he is at the beginning of the story, a time when “one minute, everything was normal.” And then:

A summer evening glaze of gold varnish coated our yard with the fat frog fountain and that shitty little smug-faced gnome that I’ve been trying to sabotage since I moved in. And then Big Jim’s eyeball fell out. Like, fell the fuck out of his head. It rolled onto the grass, and, to be honest, both Big Jim and I were taken aback. Dennis, on the other hand, didn’t skip a beat, hurling himself toward the rogue eyeball. Dennis is a bloodhound and has the IQ of a dead opossum. I’d suggested to Big Jim that we oust Dennis because of his weapons-grade incompetence, but Big Jim never listened, intent on keeping a housemate that has zero impulse control and spends 94 percent of his time licking his balls. Dennis’s fangs were within a foot of the eyeball as I snatched it, balancing it on the fence for safekeeping. Big Jim and I shared a look, or sort of three-quarters of a look, because now, obviously, he only had a single eyeball. Whilst making a mental note to add this to my petition to get Dennis evicted from our domicile (surely once you’ve tried to eat your roommate’s eyeball, you gots to go) I asked Big Jim if he was alright. He didn’t answer.

“What the fuck?” said Big Jim, as he raised a beefy hand to his head, and that was the last thing I heard him say.

Big Jim retreats into the house, specifically, the basement. At first S.T. and Dennis stay close to home. As Big Jim deteriorates, S.T. tries to feed him and ventures into an abandoned Walgreens in search of medication for Big Jim. S.T. fills a plastic bag with:

…medications I thought sounded helpful to Big Jim. E-Mycin, Keflex, Lasix, Prilosec OTC, Monistat, Sally Hansen Airbrush Legs, and Summer’s Eve all sounded effective and surely a combination of them would cure Big Jim. Walgreens had come through for us before.

But sadly, Big Jim and the world outside the basement both continue to deteriorate no matter how many pills S.T. throws into Big Jim’s open mouth. S.T. and the silent but loyal Dennis make their way through Seattle in search of a cure for what ails Big Jim and in hopes of finding surviving MoFos (what Big Jim always called humans). Along the way they encounter “drooling and swaying” MoFos who either ignore them or try to eat them, other animals both friendly and hostile, and scenes of urban devastation and wild regrowth. They also find a new mission – to rescue domestic animals who are trapped inside houses, unable to open doors or smash through the window glass. Dennis and S.T. can’t open doors either, but S.T. has a plan. This mission leads to S.T. finding a new sense of home and identity, although he never loses his love for MoFos, a species who “invented a magic box that can nuke a Hot Pocket in seconds!”

It is very important that you understand ahead of time that this is a gory book with a significant human and non-human body count. Animals die, including ones we become attached to. I freaked out a lot. Things happened that made me very sad. However, the story was, on the whole, enormously uplifting. The biggest battle the characters face is against the Black Tide, which is a state of despair. Watching them fight against the Black Tide by encouraging and helping themselves and others, and seeing the role that storytelling and memory play in healing from tragedy, is truly inspiring. Also the book is just fun, with a strong sense of adventure and S.T.’s slightly off-kilter point of view that takes great delight in small victories:

I realized what Dennis was carrying in his slobbering, flopping jowl-ed mouth. He had a goddamned bag of Cheetos®, that crazy hound. I called out to him in English, using the back of my throat and doing my very best Big Jim, “Good boy, Dennis! Fuck!” And when they got close enough, I pulled his tail and fluttered around him. He dropped the Cheetos® and play-bit at the air, lunging at me with his goofball smile. Good ‘ol Dennis. What a champ.

Typically I fall into the camp of people who will not read anything that includes violence against animals. Because these animals all are portrayed as sentient and not under human control, the violence felt emotionally more like violence against and between humans than against or between animals. It was still upsetting, because I was attached to the characters, but it lacked the power imbalance that can make violence against animals especially triggering in something like a suspense novel. Obviously this experience will vary from reader to reader.

Dear Readers, it is with a heavy heart that I tell you that while the animal behavior science in this book, allowing for Rule of Drama, is pretty on point, the reason for humanity’s deterioration is purely stupid. This is not how evolution works, y’all. It’s also not how viruses work. It’s not how anything works. In all of apocalyptic literature this book has some of the best scenes, but when it comes to the reason for the apocalypse it has the worst science ever. Blessedly, we don’t get much of it until the end, because most of the MoFo apocalypse happens while S.T. and Dennis are still hanging around Big Jim’s house. By the time they set off on their journey, all the havoc has already been wreaked and they are just trying to survive the aftermath. Who knows, maybe the reason makes more since when it isn’t being explained by a parrot to a crow.

Most of the book is narrated by S.T., but short chapters are narrated by other animals, some in other parts of the world. Sadly, none are narrated by an octopus, but there is an octopus character, Onida, one of the few survivors at the damaged “Seat. e Aquar  m.” When S.T. comments on how knowledgeable Onida is, she says, “I have nine brains – which never stop growing – three hearts, and I can regenerate my arms, but mostly it’s because I’m female.” So, that’s cool.

The sense of place is amazing – everything feels completely authentic and lived in. This is the kind of book which will lead you to google “Seattle Aquarium Map,” and I say that as someone who not usually interested in maps. The action sequences make sense. Everything feels just MoFo enough to be relatable and animal enough to be kinda sorta realistic.

When I got to the last chapter I dragged my feet (metaphorically), knowing that for every page I read there was one less page to read. I’m truly bummed about this book ending. S.T. was raised by Big Jim, and evidence suggests that Big Jim was a garbage pile before he got sick, and yet, Big Jim really loved S.T. and S.T. really loved Big Jim and loved the MoFo world, the trashier, the better. The book inspires a deep love for non-human animals, but also for flawed, doomed, weird humanity. In his role as a Storyteller (One Who Keeps), S.T. says:

I extolled the virtues of MoFos, such as the varied histories of different cultures, the beauty in their physical differences, their creations, laughter, and love. I told them about how MoFos dedicate an hour to happiness every day with Pabst Blue Ribbon and heavily discounted tater tots. I told them about how even though MoFos weren’t born with wings, they made their own and put them on airplanes and maxi pads, and about how they flushed all their poops…the crows thought this was super hilarious.

He goes on to explain birthday cake and moonwalking and landing on the moon. He loves stale donuts. He even learns to overcome bigotry and love penguins and University Crows. This book broke my heart but it also made me so happy. Just…if a parrot tries to explain why things are happening the way they are, just don’t listen. That never works out.