If you've never had your arm stolen as part of a fraternity initiation, you probably wouldn't understand

Breathers by S.G. Browne is my first foray into romantic zombie comedy. While I am not typically a fan of anything zombie, this book is brilliantly written. The humor is ironic and dry, and dark enough to satisfy even the colonial Americans.

Browne researches thoroughly to provide all the gory details of human decomposition, taking some liberties, putting the reader in the position to be sympathetic with the narrator, Andy, as he relates the plights of a reanimated corpse who has been forced to live with his parents. You see, zombies aren't allowed to live alone; they have to have a relative or willing foster parent to keep track of them.

Andy becomes dissatisfied with his life (or un-life, whatever you want to call it) and begins protesting. This results in his arrest, and his confinement at the SPCA where he is kenneled with the dogs or cats, and fed kibble until his parents reluctantly come to get him.

But, as he keeps reminding us, if we haven't been in his shoes, we can't understand.

The book provides an interesting study of how the class of undead is oppressed by all, managing, through all the dark humor and somewhat disturbing scenes, to reveal that it is human nature to discriminate, but it is also human nature to survive, even after death has occurred.