Darkness lives within …Cash-strapped, working for agencies and living in shared accommodation, Stephanie Booth feels she can fall no further. So when she takes a new room at the right price, she believes her luck has finally turned. But 82 Edgware Road is not what it appears to be. It’s not only the eerie atmosphere of the vast, neglected house, or the disturbing attitude of her new landlord, Knacker McGuire, that makes her uneasy – it’s the whispers behind the fireplace, the scratching beneath floors, the footsteps in the dark, and the young women weeping in neighbouring rooms. And when Knacker’s cousin Fergal arrives, the danger goes vertical. But this is merely a beginning, a gateway to horrors beyond Stephanie’s worst nightmares. And in a house where no one listens to the screams, will she ever get out alive?
Dark bleatings everybody! So, I’m an Adam Nevill super fan and after reading No One Gets Out Alive, I have officially read every book he’s written. I have travelled through the wilderness with the guys from The Ritual, and followed Kyle as he investigated the Last Days cult. I’ve lived next door to those abhorrent wretches in Cunning Folk, and been terrorised by what goes on in Apartment 16. But never have I had my life simultaneously enriched and absolutely ruined by a Nevill book… not until this one, which was the last of his works I had left to read. Dear Lord. Dear the sweet, horned, Dark Lord.
This isn’t my favourite Nevill book, but I think that from a storytelling perspective, it might actually be his best work. Honestly, I was floored by it. It’s outstanding. The writing is of Nevill’s usual beautiful high calibre, and the plot is solid. His plots are always solid, and so are his characters, but there’s something extra about this book. Stephanie is, to me, Nevill’s most relatable character to date. She’s a young woman in the immediate aftermath of a significant breakup, living paycheque to paycheque, struggling to make money despite her best efforts, and is forced to take a cheap room in a house share. Within one night she realises she made a mistake, and tries to get out, but there are roadblocks left, right, and centre.
Stephanie’s predicament is anxiety-inducing, unsettling, tense, and seemingly never-ending. She’s a smart woman who is taking every possible step to change her circumstances, but keeps having doors slammed in her face. She’s making every conceivable decision. It was so harrowing and stressful to read because the picture Nevill painted made it very clear that there is a very clear mounting threat, and that Stephanie is trapped, despite all her efforts to get out. I was sat there with my mind racing as I read this, trying to come up with solutions for her! She’s fictional, for God’s sake, and yet I couldn’t put this book down for long because I couldn’t just abandon her.
I don’t know how Nevill managed to translate the feelings of this woman so authentically as she goes through her increasingly traumatic situation, but I was so impressed by his empathy, his talent, and his ability to see outside of his own experience to such an extent. I don’t claim to know what his personal experiences are, don’t get me wrong, but I do know he’s never been a young woman trapped in a house with a man who, at best, is a dickhead, and at worst, poses a very serious threat to her physical wellbeing.
As well as just the character herself, I also related to this story in a way I never have in any other book, and that’s because it also deals with PTSD. I can’t stress this enough – I am fine now – but I have experience of PTSD. I’ve recovered as much as a person can recover from such a thing, I think, and wouldn’t mention it if I still struggled with it. The reason I bring it up is because it’s this element of the book that struck such a chord for me. I have never in my life encountered such a truthful and realistic depiction of not only the effects of PTSD, but also the response of other people in the inner circle of someone who suffers with it. My flabber was ghasted, I tell you!
Even the length and narrative structure of this story feels like a reflection of the recovery process and the stages of healing (or suffering, depending on your perspective) that a person goes through. I feel like the supernatural antagonist is a metaphor for trauma and how it burrows inside and just stays with you indefinitely. Maybe I was reading too much into it, but that’s how I perceived it.
So, back to my initial statement about this book both enriching and ruining my life. I was being hyperbolic, I suppose, with the latter part of that sentence. What I mean is that this was a hard read for me, but also a strangely comforting one. I wasn’t blazing through it with my usual lust for the grim and dark that Nevill always delivers, and had to take regular breaks because Stephanie’s experience was so harrowing to read. However, I have also never felt so seen by a book. Nevill put in to words so many things that I’ve never been able to articulate, and it was both validating and a relief to share those feelings, even if it was with a fictional character.
I have never been so deeply, personally affected by a book, and I’ve never been so impressed with one either. Adam, if you ever come across this review – thanks for writing this book, man. It really means a lot to me, and the goats salute you.
On a lighter note, the horror scenes are scary as f**k. I thought I should mention that for people who didn’t come here for a chunk of my own life story! If you’re a fan of supernatural horror, Nevill is definitely an author for you, and this book is possibly the scariest thing he’s ever written, on multiple levels. It’s an outstanding piece of horror and I highly recommend it.
If you’d like to get your own copy or check out the author, the links you need are below:
Happy Goat Horror 
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