We Are Unprepared by Meg Little Reilly is a ecological thriller about a series of unprecedented storms that hammer the east coast of the United States. It’s chilling in the fact that it feels very real and very possible. I loved the suspense elements of this book, the fact that it’s “pulled from the headlines” so to speak, but I struggled to like any of the main characters. I think this is a perfect book for people who love disaster movies, though.

Ash and Pia are Brooklyn hipsters who move to Ash’s hometown in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont in search of a more simple and authentic lifestyle. From the beginning of the book, their marriage is already on tenterhooks–Pia discovers she can’t get pregnant and isolated Vermont is less idyllic than they were hoping for. Then comes news of pending natural disaster–a series of enormous storms that will either bury the east coast in snow or drown it in rain. This unprecedented meteorological event leaves everyone scrambling, but it seems to give Ash and Pia purpose. They’re almost excited about the impending weather, and to some extent, I understand that.

There’s a thrill before a huge blizzard — knowing you probably won’t go to work the next day, anticipating staying in your jammies and eating soup and homemade bread. The thing is, I’ve never actually experienced a blizzard I thought might kill me. The last major storm of 2016 had my car stuck in our parking lot, but a completely drunk stranger (miles from the nearest bar BTW) walked over, on foot, to help push me out: “Oh yah, it’s coming down real hard, ya know.” Never change, Wisconsin. Never change.

Anyway, the first part of the book occurs before “The Storms” (as they become known) arrive. Ash and Pia get involved in their community’s preparations, but then seem to fracture. Pia becomes involved with a group of preppers and becomes obsessed with survivalism. Ash wakes up in the middle of the night to clunking downstairs and assumes there is in an intruder in their home:

I thudded downstairs with my arm cocked back, ready to strike with the bat at whatever I encountered. But there was no intruder. Pia stood at the kitchen sink in a long, ratty nightgown with a hammer in one hand and a plastic tube in the other. She obviously heard me but didn’t acknowledge my arrival.

“What are you doing?” I huffed, still on a breathless high from the sprint downstairs.

She looked frustrated, close to tears, over whatever project was keeping her up at three o’clock in the morning.

“This, this thing!” She waved the tube in front of her, looking near me but not exactly at me. “I have to get it to fit onto the other piece, but it’s impossible!”

There was a pile of odd parts on the floor beside her, which, according to the empty box nearby, was supposed to be a hand-crank water sterilizer. I noticed that her feet were filthy, as if she’d been walking around outside. I thought I would find a robber or rapist when I ran downstairs, which now seemed like a much less complicated situation. The obsessive, wired woman before me was more frightening.

Good to know a rapist is less concerning than your wife being freaked out, Ash.

I think that kind of summarizes my issues with this book. Ash is the narrator throughout and I didn’t identify with him. He describes Pia in terms that strongly reminded me of the manic pixie dream girl trope (yes, I know that term is problematic and I’m using it intentionally). She’s this woman who he meets in Brooklyn who vacillates between “new things” from Buddhism to veganism, and hides their TV behind a tapestry. She’s always moving and trying new ideas and making major changes and refusing to settle. She’s sexual and unpredictable and she makes his life more exciting.

The fact that Pia becomes obsessed with prepping isn’t surprising–for one thing, people are terrified of the storms coming their way, so it actually doesn’t seem unreasonable. Also we know from what Ash has told us that Pia doesn’t do things by halves. I felt like Ash’s resentment and worry over her was the result of him realizing his wife was a complicated human being, not just a device to make his life more “wild” and “magical.” That said, I’m looking at this through romance novel eyes, not disaster thriller eyes, I think, which muddies my perception. A lot of thrillers involve deeply troubled relationships, but as a romance reader I instinctively want the heroine and hero to have a fulfilling relationship.

The truth is, Ash and Pia are both shit at preparing for the weather–which I’m sure was the author’s intention. They love the idea of roughing it, but have no real idea what the fuck they are doing. Example, they buy a bunch of worms that live in a glass box in their living room so after the storm they can compost, but never check to make sure that the snowblower works or that’s a suitable size for the job at hand. Spoiler alert: It’s not. Composting is great, but making sure you can get out of your driveway so you can get groceries or go to the hospital is way more important.

In many cases I felt like Ash and Pia were laughable, almost insufferable, even and I wondered if that was the author’s intention. I know, from the afterword, that this book is meant to be a cautionary tale regarding climate change and it’s consequences. If Pia and Ash are meant to be clownish hipsters, totally unprepared for reality, it works, and it makes a point about how unprepared the population is for disaster in general.

Once the storms do hit the book takes on more of a thriller tone. Everything becomes life or death. The community bands together in some places, fractures in others. There are religious zealots who feel this is a sign to turn to God. There are fringe members of society who use this as an excuse to turn to violence and isolationism.

We Are Unprepared is in parts a thriller, in parts a cautionary tale, and in parts an exploration of a marriage. I loved the thriller aspect of the story though and found the premise relevant to concerns regarding climate change. I liked the concept quite a bit, but I just didn’t like the main characters enough to get engaged in their relationship story.