It’s all made up of “found” objects and momentos. Photographs, notes, messages, all discovered in a backpack by an anonymous survivor.
Some of the items were never meant for posterity – bits of silent conversation on paper carried on when the dead were nearby. Some are clearly confessions, memories, hurried memoirs scrawled out to a transient hope of a future posterity. A future reader.
This book requires a suspension of disbelief. Try to read it bit by bit or like a regular novel, and you will have no idea what I’m talking about.
Set aside an hour or two. Find a relatively quiet place where you won’t be bothered. Have other people nearby for extra points.
Read straight through. Pause with each page, but don’t stop. Let each photo, each note build in an ongoing crescendo of horror.