Benjamin sees the shape of his two brothers trying to kill each other. It’s no worthy finale, but perhaps it’s also no surprise. How else had they expected this to end? What did they think would happen when they returned at last to the place they had spent their lives trying to flee?
Three brothers return to the cottage by the lake where, over two decades before, a catastrophe changed the course of their lives. They have come to spread their mother’s ashes. That her final wish was to rest alone by the lake and not beside their late father was revealed only the night before her planned funeral.
Benjamin drives the car down the old gravel road, his brothers beside him. His journey is through a familiar landscape, but also through time: here they are as boys, sun-tanned legs and hungry eyes, children left to fend for themselves in a family where the adults have checked out; there they are as young men, estranged but bound to one another by the history that defines them. The brothers are at once one body and fiercely separate, their youth spent competing for their father’s favor and their mother’s elusive love in a home that was riddled like a mine field.
Always the observer, Benjamin stands between his brothers as the family’s command center, on the watch for arguments looming on the edges. But as the years unfold, Benjamin grows increasingly untethered from reality, frozen in place while life carries on around him. And between the brothers a dangerous current now vibrates. What really happened that summer day when everything was blown to pieces?
The Survivors is a devastating story of a family falling apart and a stunning chronicle of a mind unravelling in the wake of a tragedy. Told in dual narratives, with one timeline tracing backward from the story’s dramatic finale and the other moving forward toward the inevitable moment of impact, this cyclical novel explores the relationship between siblings and the way in which the intimate bond of brotherhood opens up for the greatest betrayal of all.
Sweden’s literary luminary Alex Schulman weaves his tale with singular elegance and the drive of a suspense novel, finally lowering the curtain with a shattering twist.
“…Twists the hearts until is breaks at the edges.”
Borås Tidning (SE)
Sveriges Radio, Kulturnytt P4 (SE)
“Schulman has his pain and knows how to use it, and does so in a perfect pitch.”
Helsingborgs Dagblad (SE)
“This is a novel that is highly readible – the author makes me remember my own childhood: the emotion and experience of it. I can literally feel the scent of the mother’s pasties slowly defrosting in the car. […] The language is beautiful and the story is dark, while also deeply heartfelt. Let’s hope there will be many novels to come.”
“This is a story with brilliantly depicted scenes. We are fully present – at the house by the lake, on the paths through the forest, among the birds and the insects, in the play of the light. There is an almost antiquated rhythm to the nature destructions, which brings to mind the writing of Pär Lagerkvist or Harry Martinson. And then there is the low-intensive, psychological drama that is constantly alive between these five damaged souls. At its worst, the brothers band together, but just as often they are played against one another. Schulman allows his scenes to take time, interjects new details slowly. Above all, he has an ear for dialog. I often find it surprising how many novelists let their characters sound the same; in Schulman’s book on the other hand, the lines always reflect the speaker. He creates a truly dark image of a family. Yes, the violence and the humiliation are arresting, but just as harrowing is how the parents appear steeped in total indifference. The children seem to see themselves only as a burden. They have developed different strategies to survive that realization. […] This may be the beginning of an important authorship.”
Dagens Nyheter (SE)
“Schulman’s literary prowess is indisputable. […] The children’s abandonment is depicted with linguistic sensitivity – but without concealing the brutality. […] Death is constantly present. It prowls in the shadows, extends its hand, retracts it. In this movement a vibrating and terrifying suspense arises, which finally explodes and hurls the brothers into a life defined by alienation and trauma.”
“In several books, Alex Schulman has skillfully depicted an auto-ficitonal tale of a dysfunctional family rife with addiction, violence and love. The Survivors uses similar material, but now in pure fiction, without auto-pilot. The story gains from it, the reader is invited into the narrative in an entirely new way; the novel skillfully draws on the reader’s own childhood, their own terror, in order to compel the story forward.”
Sveriges Radio, Kulturnytt P1 (SE)
“Schulman has his painful pressure points and knows exactly how to use them. […] He is tremendously good at telling a story that grabs hold.”
“Damn elegant. The story is saturated with drama, but Schulman works just as much with small details, everyday occurrences that appear inconsequential for an outsider but which become lasting, razor sharp memories for a child. […] However rooted in his own biography he may be, Alex Schulman is clearly sliding into a more free fictional prose. Between the lines we glimpse an author with his gaze set on the horizon, ready for the next step. I am curious where that will take him.”
Svenska Dagbladet (SE)
“Schulman uses sound, light, and the boys’ memories of an early summer in order to depict the terror that breaks out between the brothers when they splash in the water and the shore seems to disappear. In this moment, Schulman has an exact pitch in every sentence. I experience their strokes in the water heavy as death and the angst the brothers feel is also mine. […] The chapters about the boys’ childhood are the book’s strength, its nerve. In those scenes, Schulman wants much and throws everything down. His soul? That is how it feels at times, and it is worthy of great admiration. […]. What surprises me most is Schulman’s ability to make the world appear a little bit bigger. He moves borders, travels through time.”
“Schulman is a master at depicting mood and emotional pitch. His vulnerability strikes like a dagger to the heart. […] The story’s dramatic crescendo, the explanation for a life of self-loathing and bottomless angst for our protagonist Benjamin, leaves me as a reader in a state of acute shock. But maybe that is what good literature should achieve.”
Alingsås Tidning (SE)
“Schulman is quite simply a master of portraying emotions and at making the immediacy of the text run through your body like an electrical shock.”
Tidningen Vi (SE)
“Alex Schulman skillfully navigates through a vulnerable adolescence. His writing is emotionally arresting, it’s impossible to resist.”
INGALILL MOSANDER, AFTONBLADET