The author really wants you to come to your own conclusion about what you’d do in that situation, just like Wen and her fathers do. I don’t want to discuss too much in detail about the plot since this is a story that you should go into as blind as you can. I didn’t totally love it! At least I don’t think I did? Honestly, I’m still wrestling with my thoughts about it. All of this is to say: I tore through it one day and yet. The scenario Andrew and Eric are forced to grapple with - make an unthinkable sacrifice in order to prevent an unbelievable fate - is so bleak it immediately hooked its claws into my psyche. The violence is described in stomach-turning detail. The dread builds quickly and doesn’t let up. This is an interesting and extremely well-written book, and I can see why Tremblay was branded “a master of suspense” in a ton of the reviews I read for Cabin at the End of the World before buying. Very chill.) When she spots three more strangers coming down the driveway with weapons, Wen runs inside to warn her dads, and a grisly confrontation and home invasion is set in motion. While catching grasshoppers in the front yard one idyllic afternoon, Wen is approached by a massive yet friendly stranger, Leonard, who tells her she and her parents are going to have to make some hard decisions very soon in order to “save the world.” (Very chill message to relay to a 7-year-old. With no cell service and the closest neighbors over two miles down the road, it’s a city-dweller’s unplugged paradise, right? Uh, no, wrong, of course. It introduces 7-year-old Wen and her fathers, Eric and Andrew, who are taking a family vacation at their remote New Hampshire cabin.
That is very much the vibe of Paul Tremblay’s Cabin at the End of the World, which mixes a violent home invasion with a looming apocalypse to chilling effect. What more could you want in a book, honestly? Instead, it feels like an important message wrapped inside entertaining, thought-provoking nightmare upon nightmare with a scarred-for-life-flavored cherry on top. reason - into scenarios so terrifying that it doesn’t feel like a lesson being preached at you from a pulpit on high. One of my favorite things about the horror genre is how it’s able to distill core themes about our everyday lives – good vs.
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