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Paperback
Published May 22, 2025
Dedicated to all the girls who find themselves saying, “Fuck it, I’ll do it myself.”THIS. BOOK! Nelle gives us everything in this book & yet, I’ll always want more, more, more when it comes to the Misfits. Like, she starts the book detailing city planning & management as The Monterey Compound expands, & then ends the book with a battle unlike anything the Misfits have seen.
This is a story about hope and destruction.
The cost of love is grief.
I was tired of saying, “When this is over.” Alexiares was right. It never would be. Humanity had many chances to get things right. To act like we had some damn sense... We are what we always have been. Savages... The strong survived, yes, but the weak weren’t forgotten. Their stories were still told—just from a different angle. A carefully crafted one. Educational. Meant to enlighten. To indoctrinate. That was the other thing about humans. We were creatures of habit. There were three things that decided what we did every day: eat, shit, and sleep. One break in that routine, and it affected the others. The cost of one without the other two? A hell in which only savages could prevail.What a freaking JOURNEY we go on in these 650+ pages! As with her other work, I’m in total awe of Nelle’s talent & this book is no exception. My brain usually wonders obscure things while reading like “how do you get running water in the apocalypse?” or “what kinds of infrastructure are necessary to maintain once society as we know it ends?” She addresses all of that & then some. I mean, explaining the economic system, describing how to create a new “post-apocalyptic” curriculum for young minds, relying on the best battle plans from history to aide in the strategy of today... Nelle navigates this nuance brilliantly. I never feel lost & I never feel like there’s information I’m missing.
The girl I once was, carefree and optimistic … she had turned into a monster somehow, somewhere along the way. All in the name of preservation of others. My morality for theirs... That person was never coming back. It was painful. But now, it was time for me to turn my pain into power.And her POVs are clearly defined, so even if you didn’t pay attention, it’s obvious which Misfit’s POV you’re reading since their voices are unique to their character. This level of detail & complex story/world development is what puts her storytelling a level above the rest.
My mercy only extended so far before I was tempted to ask the devil for a favor.But because this is Nelle after all, it’s not some quiet, peaceful, book that lacks action. No. Every book in this series takes you on a journey through the stages of grief.
My grief was a quiet, unrelenting ache. A slow leaking wound that was impossible to stitch. It controlled my life. Haunted me, a ghost lingering in a graveyard. Grief seeped into my everything—my thoughts, my breaths, the damned spaces between my words. No one noticed it. I couldn’t let them. They had their own shit to deal with... And maybe that’s what made it worse. The fact that it lingered. Simmered. Waited and lurked until I was so beat down, I couldn’t hide it anymore.Throw in battles with zombies, a dash of sizzling romance, & a found family that will literally go to war for one another one minute, then make morbid jokes the next.
“Every day is an opportunity to become a little more badass, wouldn’t you agree?”It’s fantastic. It’s realistic. This book is grounded in a way the others aren’t & I absolutely LOVED every single chapter... even when I was cursing Nelle’s name for putting my favorite crew in danger or screaming about something devastating.
No matter how much I wanted to believe I could, I couldn’t save everyone. God knows I would try. But somehow all that trying had done nothing but carve out this empty, hollow space inside me, and now I was too damn tired to pretend it didn’t hurt.The State of the Union series will forever be my happy place, even when it's full of carnage & heartbreak. Let me lay it out... Before Their After is the prequel: all POVs from the Band of Misfits from the day the world ended through the 5 years that followed.
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This wasn’t who I wanted to be. But who I wanted to be wouldn’t win this war. Who I was would not help people survive. That was how war worked. You sacrificed, and you sacrificed, until the only thing left to offer was your soul.
...the world either changes you or you change the world. There is no in between. No teetering over that thin, nonexistent line to your morality. Lion or sheep. Killers and those that are killed. Predators or prey. Everyone fell into a category, especially in the middle of a fucking apocalypse.Rising is the 1st book: introducing the Misfits, the world, found family orientated, & travel cross-country. Echoes of War is the 2nd book: something fishy's going on, anticipation for coming battle, magic is tested, & more travel back across the country towards home to regroup.
“I fell in love with you because of your fire—it would be unwise of me to ask you to dim your flame.”Ashes of Honor is the 3rd book: building strategy & forging allies, battles, & testing morality during war. This is a cinematic series & this book further proves that. I cannot recommend this masterpiece more.
Something fragile in my chest broke. That fire, the very thing that drove me, suddenly felt too hot. Too destructive... “I never meant to burn you.”
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"... I love you. Fiercely. Completely. Till the end of my days and beyond them. I thank the stars every day for you. For loving me with as much ferocity as you do—no hesitations, no fears."
"... You’re not just love to me. You’re family. You’re peace. You’re home. Annoyingly so, you also happen to be the bravest, and most reckless, person I’ve ever met. The strongest too. You throw yourself into the fire for the people you love without a second thought. You are confidence and compassion and sheer fucking ferocity all in one. And I admire every part of you.”
And yet, this was the truth of war, wasn’t it? Victory wasn’t clean—it was carved from sacrifice. Some were chosen, others stolen. And in the end, you didn’t get to feel good about it. “War doesn’t care what it takes,” I muttered to myself. “Only that you’re willing to pay the price.” ... Today was what the history books would claim a victory. But victory wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It wasn’t supposed to taste like ash.