Day of The Triffids

by John Wyndham

Is there any opening sentence of a novel more appropriate for this era than;
“When a day that you happen to know is Wednesday starts off by sounding like Sunday, there is something seriously wrong somewhere.” A great silence has fallen over the once bustling streets of London, punctuated only by the wail ambulance sirens and the warble of birds going about their business undisturbed by our international catastrophe. This great work of science fiction, written in 1951, seems so relevant for now. It electrified my senses upon my first reading when I was teen, an unforgettable experience.  Sufferers from Covid19 may be experiencing the virus obliterating their sense of smell and taste for anywhere up to two weeks. Just imagine if entire populations were robbed of their sight instead, and that the sudden chaos rendered all those newly-blind, vulnerable to the uprising of a killer plant able to communicate with its brethren by rattling its stems. Trust me, pick this one up. It will momentarily divert you from the science fiction novel in which we find ourselves living today.

Reviewed for Zimmermann by Sophie Lee.

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