We were lucky enough to have a chat with Paul Tremblay. Check out what he had to say.

This is good.  Yell-out-loud-at-the-diabolical-machinations-of-the-cruel-and-omnipotent-author good. Honestly, I’m just trying to avoid saying anything about it, this book is best experienced unencumbered by any expectations.

If you even only half-trust my opinion, go pick up a copy right now. Stop reading this review, and definitely don’t listen to our podcast (we have a lot of fun spoiling the ending).

 

Without further ado. Paul Tremblay has done many remarkable things with this novel. He’s created an unpredictable storyline that is thrumming with possibilities. It really feels like it can go anywhere, at any point – not because of arbitrary red herrings shoved in as an afterthought, but because of the richness of the compact world he’s created. This occasionally can lead to isolated paragraphs that are so descriptive as to be bland, but this is a rare occurrence. Rather, the attention to detail, alongside a feeling that everything could change in just a moment, gives his prose a wonderful sense of urgency. Without having to rely on artificial conflict to keep the reader’s interest, the drama is found in internal factors, the characters.

 

Oh my, the characters! Tremblay flows between narrators like water. Not only does this eliminate absolutely good/evil characters, but also helps keep a static hostage situation fresh. It’s a smart device, and it makes for some surprisingly tranquil moments alongside all the tension, such as a child’s internal monologue as she collects and names grasshoppers. (For another of Tremblay’s wonderful child narrations, have a look for It’s Against The Law To Feed The Ducks, audiobook version here)

 

The majority of the tale is not so peaceful. In fact, the novel is reminiscent of a Shakespearean tragedy. Not only because of the rivers of blood spilt, but in the sense that the plot is entirely driven by character actions.  The conflict is real, because the character’s motivations naturally conflict. Each is driven to do what they do by what they want, and by what they want to protect. There are no evil people here in Tremblay’s isolated cabin. The evil that is done is an accidental by-product, notable because it is formless and without ill intention...and that makes it all the more disturbing.

 

Just like a Shakespearean tragedy, after the lights go down and the stagehands mop up the blood, we know that if given the chance to perform once more, the actors would repeat their tragic actions all over again.

 

9/10