Last One at the Party presents the reader with a story that's essentially a hyperbole of our current reality. A pandemic sweeps the world unchecked by attempts to constrain it. But instead of leaving most people merely inconvenienced, 6DM kills everyone in its path. Almost everyone. fewer than one in a million survive it.

Our nameless heroine is pretty much the worst possible person to survive something like this. She's selfish, tedious, insipid. She wilfully condemns various helpless animals to death, acknowledging their desperation and then moving on. Not since Heathcliff and Catherine have I come across main characters I hated so intensely.

As we get to know her, we see she's been battling severe depression and crippling anxiety for years even before the pandemic. Add PTSD after the fact and, well, she doesn't cope well. But she definitely shows emotional growth over the course of the book – it just takes her a long, long, loooooong time to get there.

It reminded me a lot of Anne Corlett's The Space Between the Stars.

To be honest, I'm not certain whether I actually liked this book. For a solid 90% of it, I despised the main character. But I'll tell you what: I could not put it down. And I've got such a serious book hangover from it, that I haven't been able to get into another book since.