Just because we win in the movies doesn't mean we'd win in real life. In case the aliens pull it together and triumph, we're prepared. We've got an underground bunker and a generator. We've stockpiled gas, water, food, and Cheetos. And at the first sign of invasion (like a giant spaceship blowing up the White House or Sarah Jessica Parker's head being transplanted onto a dog's body), we're locking ourselves in our impenetrable subterranean hideout and never coming out.
No, we're not crazy paranoid conspiracy nuts. Why do you say that?
But seriously: if aliens do invade—and win—what happens next? We'll be fine in our underground bunker, of course, but what about you and everyone else? The Host is here to answer that question.
The Host is written by Stephenie Meyer. You might have heard of her. She's kind of a big deal. But The Host is different; it's Meyer's first foray into non-vampire territory, and it's also her first book marketed as an adult novel. (No, not that kind of adult!)
In The Host, body-snatching aliens have won the fight for Earth. The few remaining humans are in hiding. But there's a twist: this story is told from the perspective of the alien. Wanderer experiences a whirlwind of human emotions—fear, anger, lust, and love—and tastes scrumptious human foods—French fries, chocolate shakes, Cheetos. And now, having had a taste of all that delicious human food, she wants to know what it really means to be human.
If you ask us, French fries and Cheetos pretty much covers it.
You might never have asked yourself the question, "What would I do if an alien took over my body?" But some days, you might feel like one did anyway. Why do we think the things we think and act the way we act, even if it isn't how we really feel? On a bad mental health day, it's easy to feel like your worst enemy is yourself.
Just as Twilight tapped into the most romantic (and creepy) parts of our psyche, The Host takes internal conflict to the most extreme. Poor Melanie Stryder has lost all control of her body. It's walking and talking and smooching on her boyfriend like it has a mind of its own. And all she can do is try to come to terms with these alien—literally—thoughts.
It's a wild ride of intense emotions, a little love, and lots of Cheetos. Who doesn't like Cheetos? Grab a bag and curl up with The Host. Good luck keeping that orange dust off all the pages.