What if the world's end wasn't just a disaster movie cliché, but a deeply personal reckoning for every soul caught in its path?
Humanity has been obsessed with its own demise since ancient times. The Mesopotamians gave us The Epic of Gilgamesh and its legendary Great Flood narrative, marking the beginning of our long-standing fascination with apocalyptic storytelling. Thousands of years later, that obsession hasn't dimmed—if anything, it's intensified. These catastrophic narratives feed both our deepest anxieties and our morbid curiosity about how everything might end. Our appetite for destruction has evolved from ancient texts to modern cinema, creating an endless cycle of consumption that shows no signs of stopping. Yes, we've all seen the iconic images: famous monuments reduced to rubble, civilization torn apart, humanity pushed to the brink. These have become predictable elements of the genre. But here's where it gets controversial... does familiarity with these tropes mean we can't still craft something genuinely compelling from the ashes of global catastrophe?
Alanna Rusnak's debut novel, When the Trees All Burned, proves that apocalyptic fiction can transcend tired formulas. This isn't just another disaster story filled with hollow archetypes and predictable destruction. Instead, Rusnak delivers a masterfully constructed narrative that prioritizes authentic human experiences over spectacle. The novel introduces us to a diverse ensemble of characters scattered across different locations and time periods, each carrying their own deeply moving backstory. As they navigate profound personal transformations, they simultaneously confront an approaching worldwide catastrophe that threatens to consume everything. The genius lies in how Rusnak balances intimate character journeys with the overwhelming scope of impending doom.
The story revolves around Rajiv Montgomery Noah, a self-made billionaire whose immense fortune becomes the foundation for an audacious plan. Driven by prophetic visions, he commits his resources and cutting-edge technology toward an ambitious goal: saving humanity from fiery extinction—though perhaps only a chosen few will benefit from his salvation. And this is the part most people miss... Is Rajiv genuinely a visionary savior responding to legitimate supernatural warnings, or simply another charismatic cult leader exploiting fear and wielding his wealth to control vulnerable believers? This moral ambiguity forms the novel's beating heart.
Orbiting Rajiv's controversial mission are several compelling individuals whose lives become inextricably linked to his prophecy. There's Aiya, an expectant mother trapped in a nightmare relationship with her abusive fiancé, viewing the end times as a potential escape route. Bonnie enters the picture as a stand-up comedian standing on the threshold of major success, forced to reconsider everything as the world potentially crumbles. Jude, a documentary filmmaker, arrives determined to capture Rajiv and his devoted followers on camera, all while wrestling with her own devastating personal tragedy that colors her perspective. Then there's Pocket Rochelle, a Canadian rock icon whose powerful music becomes the soundtrack drawing both herself and her fanbase toward what might be civilization's final celebration. These characters, alongside several other remarkably relatable figures, guide readers toward a climactic convergence that promises irreversible consequences for everyone involved—regardless of whether Rajiv's apocalyptic predictions prove accurate.
Rusnak, who operates out of Durham and founded the independent publishing company Chicken House Press, makes the deliberate choice to root most of her narrative in Canadian settings. The various storylines ultimately converge at Rajiv's supposedly apocalypse-resistant dome structure located in the wilderness outside Thunder Bay. What distinguishes Rusnak's writing is her refusal to sacrifice one element for another. Character depth never gets abandoned in favor of plot momentum, yet the pacing never drags to accommodate character exploration. She achieves a rare equilibrium that will satisfy readers seeking literary sophistication while simultaneously appealing to those who crave the adrenaline rush of race-against-time thrillers. This balancing act is harder than it looks, and Rusnak makes it seem effortless.
In our current era, when climate disasters, political instability, and social upheaval make it feel like we're genuinely standing at the edge of catastrophe, When the Trees All Burned offers something valuable. It provides both an escape from our anxieties and a safe space to confront the terrifying possibilities of environmental collapse and fiery destruction. The novel lets us explore our worst fears through the lens of fiction. However, readers should understand one crucial detail: this book represents merely the opening chapter of Rusnak's ambitious three-part series, The Path That Takes Us Home. The conclusion you'll reach at the end of this volume isn't truly an ending at all—it's simply the launching point for a much more expansive saga that's still unfolding.
But here's the real question that might divide readers: When faced with credible predictions of humanity's extinction, who deserves to be saved? Should wealth and connections determine survival, or is there a moral imperative to save everyone equally—even if that's impossible? Rusnak doesn't shy away from these uncomfortable ethical dilemmas, and neither should we.
You can purchase When the Trees All Burned directly from www.chickenhousepress.ca or visit The Book Hive bookstore, conveniently located at 84 Sykes Street North in Meaford.
**So what do you think—is apocalyptic fiction still relevant when reality feels apocalyptic enough? And more importantly, if
