After the apocalypse, most fictions tell us, things may be horrible but at least they will be interesting. There are no tidal waves or cavalcades of motorbike-riding freaks here. Instead, against a backdrop of drab countryside, deserted roads, golf courses and provincial nightclubs, five men struggle to light fires and scavenge food from the detritus of a ruined Austria. They are on a boozy weekend in a mountain cabin when disaster strikes: everyone is vague about the details, but the land is ravaged and life virtually wiped out. Cormac McCarthy’s The Road had the fierce love of a father and son at its heart, but here the bonhomie of a group of thirtysomething friends is gradually stripped bare. Their competence as scientists, financial advisers and pilots proves meaningless, and their treasured memories of nights on Red Bull and lager offer little succour as curiosity slips into listlessness and empathy is blunted. Helle’s impressionistic tale skips from incident to incident and past to present, bringing the emotional and physical trials of the group to vivid life. With all our fancy brands and clever technology, he suggests, we remain only a couple of hot showers from savagery.
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