Hollow Kingdom

I’ve been obsessed with 'Hollow Kingdom' since the moment I picked it up—it’s one of those books that sticks with you like glitter, impossible to shake off. The idea of a foul-mouthed crow navigating a zombie apocalypse is genius, and of course, I immediately needed to know if there’s more to this world. Good news for fellow fans: there *is* a sequel! It’s called 'Feral Creatures,' and it dives even deeper into the chaos. This time, the story follows S.T. the crow and his hybrid deer-dog companion, Dennis, as they try to rebuild some semblance of life in a world overrun by mutated animals and crumbling human remnants. The sequel retains that perfect blend of dark humor and heart-wrenching moments, but it also expands the lore in wild ways. We get glimpses of other animal survivors, like a paranoid owl and a scheming whale, each adding their own twisted perspective to the apocalypse. The way Kira Jane Buxton writes from an animal’s viewpoint is still hilariously on-point—S.T.’s rants about human absurdity never get old.

The spin-off potential here is massive, though nothing official has been announced yet. I’d kill for a standalone about MoFo the raccoon or a prequel exploring the early days of the outbreak from a different animal’s eyes. The universe of 'Hollow Kingdom' feels ripe for expansion, especially with its mix of satire and survival drama. For now, 'Feral Creatures' is the closest thing to a continuation, and it absolutely delivers. It’s darker, weirder, and somehow even more poignant than the first book. If you loved S.T.’s snark and the absurdly touching bond between animals in the original, this sequel is a must-read. The ending leaves just enough threads dangling to hint at more stories, so here’s hoping Buxton isn’t done with this world yet!

I’ve been obsessed with 'Hollow Kingdom' since the moment I picked it up—it’s not every day you get a story where animals aren’t just sidekicks but the actual narrators, and boy, does it deliver. The way Kira Jane Buxton writes from the perspective of a domesticated crow named S.T. is nothing short of genius. It’s like seeing the world through a lens that’s both hilariously cynical and oddly profound. S.T.’s voice is packed with snark and a weirdly endearing ego, like he’s this tiny, feathery philosopher who’s convinced he’s the last sane being on Earth. The animal perspectives here aren’t just about instinct; they’re layered with personality, cultural references (yes, a crow that quotes pop culture), and a surprising depth of emotion.

What’s even cooler is how the book contrasts S.T.’s urban crow logic with the instincts of other animals. The dogs are portrayed as lovable but clueless, still waiting for their humans to come back even as the apocalypse unfolds. The cats? They’re smug, independent, and utterly unbothered—classic feline energy. Then there are the wild animals, like the elk, who see the crumbling human world with a sort of detached majesty, like they’ve been waiting for this moment forever. The way Buxton nails these distinct voices makes the animal kingdom feel vast and varied, not just a monolithic 'other.' And the humor! S.T.’s rants about 'mofo' humans (his term, not mine) and his grudging respect for a one-eyed pug named Dennis had me cackling. But beneath the laughs, there’s this poignant thread about belonging and adaptation—how animals might actually outlast us, not because they’re stronger, but because they’re more flexible. It’s a wild, witty, and unexpectedly heartfelt ride.

I stumbled upon 'The Hollow King' while browsing for dark fantasy novels, and it hooked me immediately. The story revolves around a fallen monarch, once revered as a godlike ruler, who’s stripped of his power and exiled. But here’s the twist—his emptiness becomes his strength. The world-building is lush, with crumbling empires and shadowy magic systems that feel fresh despite the genre’s tropes. The protagonist’s journey isn’t just about reclaiming a throne; it’s a raw exploration of identity and what it means to rule when you’re more myth than man.

What really stuck with me were the side characters—especially the rogue scholar who chronicles the king’s descent. Their dynamic flips between mentorship and manipulation, adding layers to the political intrigue. If you’re into morally gray protagonists like in 'The Broken Empire' or the atmospheric dread of 'The First Law', this’ll hit the spot. I devoured it in two sittings, and that ending? No spoilers, but it redefines 'bittersweet.'

I’ve been obsessed with 'Hollow Kingdom' since I picked it up, and the question of whether it’s suitable for young adults is fascinating. The book’s premise—a crow narrating the zombie apocalypse—is already a wild ride, but it’s the tone and themes that really define its audience. The humor is dark, snarky, and often irreverent, which might appeal to older teens who enjoy satire. S.T. the crow’s voice is hilarious yet poignant, blending crude jokes with existential musings about humanity’s collapse. But here’s the thing: the book doesn’t shy away from gore or bleak moments. There are scenes of animal cruelty, visceral descriptions of decay, and a underlying cynicism about human nature. If a young reader can handle the emotional weight of, say, 'The Hunger Games,' they might be fine here, but it’s definitely edgier.

The language is another factor. While it’s not overly complex, the prose is packed with witty metaphors and pop-culture references that might fly over younger heads. S.T.’s rants about 'mo-fos' (his term for humans) and his chaotic adventures with a bloodthirsty demonic toy poodle named Dennis are absurdly entertaining, but they require a certain maturity to appreciate the satire. The book also explores heavy themes like environmental collapse and loyalty in a world gone mad. It’s not just a zombie story; it’s a weirdly profound critique of humanity through the eyes of a foul-mouthed crow. For teens who love unconventional narrators and aren’t squeamish, it’s a gem. But if they prefer lighter, more straightforward YA, this might feel like too much.

I've spent way too many hours dissecting both 'Hollow Kingdom' and 'The Walking Dead,' and the comparisons are way more than just surface-level zombie chaos. At their core, they’re both about survival in a world that’s lost its humanity—literally. But while 'The Walking Dead' shoves humans into brutal, rotting landscapes, 'Hollow Kingdom' flips the script by making animals the protagonists. The real kicker? Both stories force you to ask, 'What does it mean to be alive when everything familiar is gone?'

In 'The Walking Dead,' the apocalypse strips people down to their ugliest instincts—betrayal, violence, the whole 'us vs. them' mess. 'Hollow Kingdom' does something similar but through the eyes of S.T., a crow with a filthy mouth and a heart weirdly bigger than most humans'. The animals aren’t just surviving; they’re adapting, forming weird little societies, and calling out humanity’s failures. It’s like if 'The Walking Dead' swapped Rick’s crew for a foul-mouthed bird and a dog, and honestly? It works. Both stories hammer home how fragile civilization is, but 'Hollow Kingdom' does it with dark humor that makes you laugh before you realize how bleak it all is.

Then there’s the whole 'infection' angle. 'The Walking Dead' zombies are straightforward—bite equals death equals more zombies. 'Hollow Kingdom'’s twist is way more creative: humans turn into mindless, tech-obsessed husks, glued to their screens until they literally rot. It’s satire cranked up to eleven, but the underlying dread is the same. Both worlds are littered with the remnants of the old order—abandoned cars, empty stores—but while 'The Walking Dead' focuses on scavenging, 'Hollow Kingdom' shows nature reclaiming everything. Vines crack through pavement, deer loot jewelry stores… it’s apocalyptic poetry. And just like in 'The Walking Dead,' loyalty and love are the only things that matter in the end. S.T.’s bond with his dim-but-loyal dog, Dennis, hits as hard as any human relationship in TWD—maybe harder, because it’s pure, no ulterior motives. Both stories are brutal, but they sneak in these moments of tenderness that make the wastelands worth surviving.

The Hollow King' wraps up with a bittersweet crescendo that left me staring at the ceiling for hours. The protagonist, after enduring all those trials and betrayals, finally confronts the hollow core of the monarchy—only to realize the true villain wasn’t the king at all, but the system that hollowed him out. There’s this haunting moment where the crown literally crumbles to dust in his hands, and the epilogue jumps forward to show the kingdom rebuilding, but with lingering scars.

What got me was how the author didn’t go for a clean victory. The rebels win, but they’re just as flawed as the rulers they replaced. That last line—'The throne stayed empty, and so did we'—hit like a gut punch. It’s one of those endings that makes you rethink everything that came before, especially how power corrupts even the well-intentioned.

Reading 'The Hollow King' for the first time was such a vivid experience—I couldn’t put it down! The author, Cate Glass, crafts this incredible blend of political intrigue and dark magic that feels so fresh. Her writing style has this lyrical quality, especially in how she builds the protagonist’s struggle between duty and desire. I’d recommend her other works too, like the 'Chimera' series, if you enjoy rich world-building and morally gray characters.

What’s fascinating is how Glass’s background in fantasy literature shines through. She layers her stories with subtle nods to classic tropes while flipping them on their head. 'The Hollow King' isn’t just another fantasy novel; it’s a character study wrapped in a cloak-and-dagger plot. If you’re into authors who prioritize depth over spectacle, Glass is a must-read.