I've never particularly cared for this form of critique since I hope that no two stories or writing styles are so alike that dissection via this method would be satisfying. In reality, however, I find myself quite often going back to previous books and authors when some passage or story line reminds me of something else I've read.
At this point of the story, as the victims are freely walking the road and stop into stores in town, we come across the inevitable discovery of how the outside world has fared–everybody's blind–and the wandering of blind people from house to house in search of food. This, of course, is very similar to the path unfolded in Cormac McCarthy's The Road where a man and his son have taken the initiative to walk towards the coast and encounter several groups and individuals along the way.
While I am tempted to dig out McCarthy and find some passages containing similar situations–which I know I can find–I realize something else. Something alluded to in posts of Steve Ersinghaus, Dennis Jerz, and the original of Bruce Fleming regarding the question of the value of literary studies for purposes other than students intent on becoming English professors intent on teaching literary studies, makes me smile with the relief that I don't have to.
With that freedom of knowing that I don't have to pass a test, teach someone else, claim any expertise as a literary critic, I can stop here, enjoy the recall and satisfaction of not only the connection but the brief exposure to classes that taught me to enjoy finding those connections. As a hopeful writer of story I of course use the abilities of deeper reading to study and learn. As a reader I am grateful for the concept of literary critique to discover and enjoy one more layer of reading.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology