With just over one month to go until OCD-suffering twelve-year-old Adam Meltzer climbs out of his grave in ‘Memoirs of a Neurotic Zombie’, I’m delighted to share that the book is part of a goodreads giveaway!
Enter now for your chance to win one of 5 copies (UK only)!
The book publishes from Faber on 7th August in the UK and from Penguin on 26th August in Canada.
And to get you excited, here’s the prologue…
PROLOGUE: IN WHICH I INTRODUCE MYSELF
My name is Adam Meltzer. The last thing I remember was being stung by a bee while swinging at a robot- shaped piñata on my twelfth birthday. I was dead before the candy hit the ground.
That’s right, I’m dead. But I’m alive . . . ish. The ‘ish’ is important. I’m the walking dead. Talking too. It’s awkward and gross, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. You see, I died and then I came back . . . as a zombie.
Yep, there it is.
The big ‘Z’.
It’s a loaded word and makes most people think: brainless, cannibalistic monster. And if you think that too, then I hope these memoirs change your mind.
I still have a brain; I mean, how else would I be telling you all this? As for cannibalism, I have no interest in eating people. Even rare steak gives me indigestion and really bad gas. And my table manners are simply too good to accept the label of ‘monster’.
I died, and now I’m back – zombified. Apparently there was a funeral, which I don’t remember, and then a really dark grave, which I definitely do. It’s hard to forget climbing up through two metres of dirt.
And I should tell you; I don’t like dirt. Or mess.
Of any kind.
The school guidance counsellor called it ‘early onset’ Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, but I say that when it comes to germs, it’s better to catch them too early than too late. She also said I worry too much.
But I say: there’s a lot to worry about.
I worry about running out of shampoo. I worry about the factories that make nut-free candy and yet cannot guarantee that they’re made in a nut-free environment. I worry that there are no air bags in school buses. I worry about robots rising up against humanity. I used to worry a lot about dying, but I suppose I can cross that off the list now. But thanks to my unhelpful guidance counsellor, I now have to worry about worrying too much; so the list doesn’t get any shorter.
This is my strange story, and I swear on a stack of vintage comic books that it’s all true. So read on, if you dare.
But please wash your hands first. With antibac soap and hot water.
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