After having read Faber's reissue of Kay Dick's startlingly prescient They last year, I jumped at the chance to pick this up and was not disappointed. Goes to show how much of our current moment is history reiterating itself for the umpteenth time.

“Termush is watching you.”
"Termush" by Sven Holm takes you on a gripping journey through a post-apocalyptic world. Set in a luxury coastal resort where survival is key, the story follows the wealthy guests who've reserved rooms in advance. But as the novella progresses, the hotel management's tight grip over the population becomes all-consuming, leading to total control.

The book explores the consequences of a nuclear apocalypse and the lengths people will go to survive. The fear of radiation, viruses, and death is ever-present, and the management uses all kinds of drugs (from alcohol to medicines, and even tranquilizers) to control the population. The allegory of immigration and fear of the unknown is evident in the treatment of external survivors and makes you think about what's happening in our world. The novel also raises questions about what it means to be human and the limits of survival. If you're a fan of dystopian literature and post-apocalyptic stories like Orwell's 1984 or Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? then "Termush" is your next read.

A mixed title, just about worth 4 stars for the positives. A dystopian novella where those who can afford it have booked refuge in case of catastrophe in a well-stocked and secured hotel by the sea. The story moves on well enough albeit in a predictable direction, focussed on one character to view their and others as they react and change to unfolding events. Interesting enough and well-written to be worth an hour or so of your time. But...

Character development is non-existent, limited to no background info, I struggled to care about the kind of insular self-absorbed people who could pay for this refuge. The end phase is sudden, and while it fits the story it is unfulfiling and feels unfinished.

It you want a better more rewarding and unique story, go read They from the same publisher series.

I really struggled to get through this book despite my best efforts - and despite it being a short novella. The narrator is apathetic, and I found it quite difficult to relate or care much for his personality or what happened to him. The author repeats over and over how everything seems normal despite the disaster, to the point of exhaustion. The mystery builds on slowly, and its relevance to the narrator's life is unclear for the most part - Indeed, there is an odd sense of calm and apathy among most hotel guests that seems entirely incongruous with the post-apocalyptic scenario. I'm sure this mood was chosen by the author to contrast and show the absurdity of the situation, but admittedly as a reader I just felt detached. I am sorry to not have been able to read this book to its finish, but I truly could not connect to it.

That being said, the author's plain, sparse writing style is definitely a plus.

“I don't have visions of the corpses or the shattered houses or the people who are still alive with burns on their bodies. But there is something that has changed in the last weeks, perhaps it is something in myself."

This book was so brilliant and unique, it reminded me of South by Babak Lakghomi which is became one of my favorite book as well.
I am so in love with this writing style, I can’t even describe it, it’s so poetic and stunning. The story and everything about this was captivating and perfect I adored it!
I highly recommended reading this novella!

Thank you so much @netgalley and @faberbooks for an ARC of this book in exchange for my honest review.

From the Faber Editions list of radical writers from the past who strike a chord with the present and our future this novella by Sven Holm did not disappoint. Set in a post – apocalyptic state where the wealthy have bought a place of perceived solace and protection in a specially marketed hotel from the aftermath of nuclear war there was little to suggest that this was first written in the 1960’s. It’s chilling from the off, the concept of a commercial enterprise directly benefiting from tragedy, the insensitive nature of operations within the hotel as those outside are suffering, conflict over allowing the sick and injured a place of safety, are all examples of uncomfortable themes and question morals deeply. The social relationships within the hotel including companionship, hierarchy of control and allegiance along with psychological impacts are all laid bare too and had me questioning what I would do in a such a situation.
The prose is perfectly paced to denote the passing of days and add emphasis to the building up of events. The foreword was important and really interesting, but I found it of more value re-reading it again at the end and think it would have been better as an afterword to support and enhance my own observations rather than having such a detailed explanation upfront.
It’s not a story to read if you are looking for a happy ending but it is an insightful illustration that the world around us may change but our survival instincts will not, however uncomfortably they may manifest themselves.
With thanks to Faber and Faber and NetGalley for an e-ARC in return for an honest review.

At a scant 150 pages, Termush may appear to be a quick and easy read but do not be deceived by its brevity. This dystopian novel by Sven Holm is a haunting and disturbing portrayal of a post-nuclear apocalypse world.

As a fan of all things dystopian, I was drawn to the unique and compelling storyline of Termush. However, the book's short length left me yearning for more. I craved a deeper understanding of the history of the resort and the events that led to the characters' arrival there. What caused the devastating apocalypse that forced humanity to seek refuge in such a remote and isolated location? How are the guests able to afford such luxury in a world that has been decimated by nuclear war? These are the questions that lingered in my mind long after I had finished reading.

While Holm's writing style can feel a bit stunted and repetitive at times, it effectively captures the monotony and tedium of daily life within the resort. The author's choice to replicate the mundane and oppressive atmosphere of the characters' surroundings only adds to the sense of isolation and despair that permeates the novel.

One of the book's strengths is its ability to convey a palpable sense of dread and tension. As the characters begin to unravel the dark secrets hidden within the resort, the stakes are raised, and the sense of danger becomes more and more imminent. Holm's skillful pacing ensures that readers are kept on the edge of their seats throughout the story.

My only criticism of the novel is that I wished it had been longer, with a more well-rounded ending that provided additional context and a fully fleshed-out backstory. Nevertheless, Termush is a well-written and engaging thriller that is sure to appeal to fans of the dystopian genre.

Many thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for providing me with an early copy of this novella in return for an honest review.

This a unique and grim story of post apocalyptic societal breakdown. At its centre - an enclave that the rich built for themselves in preparation for a nuclear holocaust. The latter having happened, the rich who occupy the "hotel" deal with their new realities, with each other, and with the changing shape of the world.

There is something very special here, especially given the time it was written. Perhaps it's the Nordic cold and dejection that permeates the story. Unlike other post apocalyptic stories, the terror here comes from within - the loss of hope and the impossibility of retaining the final elements of civilisation (and morality) slowly erode the human mind and degrade society to nothing. The process is quick and one directional. No hope is provided, nor can there be. What at first looks like human callousness and cruelty, turns out to be just the debilitating effects of having nothing else to live for. A very powerful point of view, and perhaps among the most realistic and poignant perspectives on post apocalyptic societies I've read.

In its way it is a perfect story. I would change nothing.

Also worth noting the fantastic introduction by Vandermeer, which, I, admittedly, read after finishing the novella (didn't want it to affect my own personal experience). The introduction is written more like a review and contextualisation of the text, and I firmly recommend not reading it before the novella itself.

Highly recommend to any student of human psychology, societal microcosms and their degradation, and post apocalyptic literature. Those looking for action, happy endings, or good vs evil - skip this one.

For a book written in the 60s, this felt very relevant and could have easily been written this year.
However I found the novella quite repetitive and didn't give me the unsettling edge that I was hoping for.

Thanks to the publishers and Netgalley for the eARC in exchange for an honest review.

Love the premise, did not gel with the writing style at all. It made it tiring to be in the protagonists head. I can see this working super well for some, and not at all for others.

I don’t feel I can give any constructive feedback for this unfortunately, I DNF’d 51% in.

Very much enjoyed this lil end of the world novel. I don't think I've read one yet that focused on the aftermath of nuclear war. We follow our unnamed main protagonist, one of the richest enough to have an escape plan and a room at the Termush Hotel. I don't think the writing style is going to work for everyone, but I really enjoyed hearing all the matter of fact mundane details of life after a nuclear war until all the niceness they planned for deteriorates.

I enjoyed this 1967 post-apocalyptic novella about guests at a luxury hotel dealing with the effects of nuclear fallout. It’s tense and at times creepy, and only takes a couple of hours to read. I reminded me a bit of Hannah Jameson’s more recent novel The Last.

This was a novella that read like a field report, and despite this originally being published in the 60s the dystopian setting and themes surrounding the service industry felt relevant.

I actually would love to see this turned into a novel it has so much potential and j love the social constructs and power dynamics, I just wanted more of it all in general.

Thank you NetGalley and Faber and Faber Ltd for the eARC all opinions are my own.

This was a fantastic post apocalyptic world. I loved the setting but was left with so many questions. I'm a reader that wants to know everything, so at around 150 pages long there was no way all of the answers could have been fully explained. Don't get me wrong, it's a good novella, but it could be an amazing novel

A short dystopian read but this didn't sit well with me. It felt dated and pushed and I did not vibe with the writing at all.

For a book written in 1967 I felt that it was quite timeless, we have a nameless narrator that narrate to us his experience in the Termush, a kind of hotel with a bunker bellow, the world has fallen victim to a radiative fallout, but as our narrator starts to tell us the story radiation levels are almost normal, but is it really like that? The management of the hotel are like a very authoritative government where the people (guest) can’t really change the outcome of the things… Soon enough there’s a threat that comes from the unknown, the people that survived the fallout… and to know more I advice you all to get a copy and see for yourself.

I did like this Novella, I did like to learn things with our main character, what I didn’t like that much, was the ending, I felt it was rushed and ended in a cliffhanger, but without a continuation that is pointless… for me it is a solid 3,4 stars, is still worth reading.

Thank you NetGalley and Faber and Faber Ltd for the free ARC and this is my honest opinion.

I was very surprised to learn that this was a book that was first published decades ago! It reads very contemporary, with a self aware narrator and a timeless setting. I'd have loved this to have been developed further, instead of in a short novella.

Nuclear war has devastated the environment but a small group of the wealthy and elite were prepared for this possibility, so now they’re cocooned at Termush, a large hotel resort on the edge of the Atlantic. One of them chronicles their experiences as he tries to make sense of what’s happening around him. A former academic he attempts to rationalise events but finds his thoughts and feelings are not so easily contained.

Acclaimed Danish writer Sven Holm published his novella in 1967 which places it as one of many Cold War narratives then in circulation, speculative fiction woven out of collective anxieties and political uncertainties. But, unlike the stories of writers like Nevil Shute or John Wyndham there’s no sense of Holm attempting to comfort his readers or suggest the probability of order inevitably following chaos. There’s no grand plan for Holm’s select band of survivors, no suggestion of repopulating the world, – sterilisation is the preferred option, in order to conserve supplies for Termush’s existing guests – or any signs of an investment in species survival, and the few remaining children are not cherished as symbols of the future. Instead Termush’s residents are intent on maintaining their privilege and personal safety, disconnected from roaming ‘strangers’ somehow still alive in the wider world.

This preoccupation with status and privilege is reinforced by a collective horror of contamination ostensibly from the radioactive dust that pervades the air, blowing across the grounds, sparking Termush’s elaborate alarm system. But Holm’s clearly interested in notions of contamination in a broader sense, from fear of the weak or the injured to fear of excess emotion and irrational actions, his band of survivors display all the signs of a community drawn from a society that excludes and labels. And it’s Holm’s broader themes that make this seem curiously modern, all too familiar in an age of mass migrations and global pandemics, Holm is clearly engaged in political allegory as much as in storytelling. His lack of interest in particular details, the nature of the war, the nationality of the hotel guests, all combine to allow his piece to escape any sense of being dated or grounded in a specific historical moment.

The narrator is lucid yet enigmatic, his observations often understated, although they’re also punctuated by hallucinatory moments and ominous dreams. His unease is set off by a growing awareness of Termush’s underlying authoritarianism, the withholding of information, the insistence that “an inspired lie could be preferred to a malignant truth.” His is a portrait of a repressive, deeply unequal society in miniature, one in which nonconformity results in ostracization, where individual responses born out of trauma are swiftly pathologized and suitably medicated. Each hotel room is carefully furnished with classic works of art which act not to stimulate the imagination or inspire new ways of seeing but as a pacifying force, culture as opiate – something Holms found particularly disturbing. Increasingly hatred of the ‘other’ seems the only sure way of unifying Termush’s disparate inhabitants. It’s a deeply compelling, almost hypnotic piece, translated by Sylvia Clayton, it’s accompanied by an illuminating introduction from Jeff VanderMeer. Another great entry in Faber Editions’ impressive list of carefully-curated vintage titles centred on highlighting “radical rediscovered voices.”

Termush is a novella from 1967 that tells the story of rich survivors after a disaster, living in a luxury hotel with special radiation shelters. The narrator, one of the guests, tells the story of what happens after they emerge from the shelters after the disaster to live in the hotel, with management keeping watch, security men and doctors and servants keeping them safe and well, and other guests arguing about what to do. As survivors from outside of Termush keep coming, hoping for shelter and medical treatment, the wealthy residents must decide what to do about them.

This dystopian novella published by Faber Editions with a new introduction by Jeff VanderMeer, which explores the book's themes and how it fits into 20th century dystopian fiction, as well as its relevance to the modern day. In fact, the modern relevance of the novella is almost on the nose, with radiation fear replaced by virus fear, and the fact that there is a lack of technology in the book due to the time period (and the fact it isn't written as something far in the future, but focuses more on the human reality) makes it feel more timeless anyway. It isn't necessarily the most different dystopia by now, as there's been so many and lots that explore similar questions, but it is unnerving how true it still feels.

As VanderMeer says in the introduction, it does feel like somewhere between other, cosier 20th century 'after the disaster' type dystopias and J.G. Ballard type dystopias in which people turn on each other and morality and capitalism are thrown into the spotlight. Termush doesn't let you forget that the narrator and the other residents are wealthy and paid to be survivors, and some of them care mostly about maintaining this status of privilege against other survivors who want to be let in. It is easy to see how this questions the mindset of the wealthy even without a presumably nuclear disaster, and how systems are designed to allow people to keep themselves privileged over others' need.

As a novella, the book is tight and gripping, not focusing on claustrophobic mundanity but a dreamlike quality, in which the narrator combines facts about bad things happening with dreams and visions. It feels like a good companion to a lot of the recent 'rich people isolate themselves' fiction like Glass Onion and The Menu, but Termush is also a classic dystopia that doesn't quite let you know what happened, but allows you to imagine a similar scenario for any horrifying apocalypse.

Thanks ever so much to @faberbooks for sharing this title with me on @netgalley!

Termush by Sven Holm

Short but sweet*

*delightfully unnerving.

Clocking in at just under 150 pages, Termush could qualify as an easy, breezy read, were it not for how disturbing it is. Being a fan of all things dystopian, I really enjoyed this, but its short length was definitely a shortcoming for me. As per usual, I wanted to know more about everything: what caused this post-nuclear apocalypse? What's the history of this resort? How did the guests survive and end up there? How much are they paying for this luxury? I could've easily read a 400-page book on this same story: it was that unique and compelling.

The writing style felt a bit stunted and repetitive at times (I can only tolerate so much staccato), but I guess it's at least partly meant to replicate the dullness of daily life inside the resort. Kudos to whoever designed the jacket artwork, for it captures the book's eeriness perfectly.

There is nothing objectively wrong with this book but I so wish it could've been longer and had a more well-rounded ending. For fans of this genre, I would recommend I Who Have Never Known Men by Jacqueline Harpman, another short dystopian, speculative thriller that was one of my top reads last year and, obviously, The Road by Cormac McCarthy. In this house, we love additional context and a fully-fleshed back story.

3.5/5