Apocalyptic fiction is thick on the ground these days. So much so that it is hard to see the quality wood for the repetitive trees. One can find themselves sifting through Walking Dead clones wishing for the days when the end of the world didn’t have to be signalled by shambling zombies, never thinking they’ll see the end until, as if by chance, they stumble upon Cody Pickrodt’s Reptile Museum. Continue reading
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