At the start of Alison Stine’s first novel, Road Out of Winter, the protagonist, a young woman named Wylodine (known as Wil) leaves her rural home in Ohio and sets out for California. As the title indicates, this is a road novel, though it could also be described as post-apocalyptic fiction, or without the grandiose vocabulary, what happens when civilization as we know it falls apart ... It takes a while for Road out of Winter to get going, but once it gets going there’s no stopping it ... The novel doesn’t offer big Orwellian insights about the world in the immediate future. And there’s nothing that approximates Huxley’s Brave New World. The characters drive the plot and create the drama. Readers might want to find out if Wil makes it to California, which the characters imagine as a kind of paradise, though in Road Out of Winter it’s the journey itself not the destination that fuels the narrative. With one published novel under her belt and a feather in her cap, one hopes that Stine has another tale or two up her sleeves.

Alison Stine’s debut novel Road Out of Winter tells the story of a dystopian near-future where, for the second year in a row, it has remained winter ... I was reminded of Emily St. John Mandel’s Station Eleven as so much of the story follows a small group of people traveling together in an unpredictable, and often terrifying, landscape. Additionally though, I was also reminded of Daniel Woodrell’s Winter’s Bone ... Fans of Station Eleven or Winter’s Bone will definitely find a lot to like in Road Out of Winter ... In a very impressive manner, Stine uses the weather and terrain almost as an additional character in this story. Her descriptive language is so completely immersive with the monotony of the snow blanketed landscapes, the unending mysterious woods, and the treacherous broken roads. The landscape becomes a villain on its own, yet another obstacle to be overcome as the main characters search for their Road Out of Winter.

Road Out of Winter belongs to a tradition of apocalyptic fiction that makes a concerted effort to yank on emotional pull-strings and push the limits of what human beings can endure under extreme duress ... Stine’s perspective is relatively bleak, and there doesn’t seem to be much hope at all for men ... The focus on (or rather, the fetishization of) developing character backstories and relationships dominates the landscape of the novel’s moribund world as much as its author’s familiar modus ... Stine’s overt critique of masculinity and patriarchy is not necessarily innovative or original; then again, if men didn’t continue to act in the same ways, they wouldn’t generate the same critiques. Regardless, the novel is well written and a poignant reminder of how we chronically neglect ourselves and our world. I wanted more from the story, but sometimes I expect too much from contemporary literature. I can’t really blame authors; most publishers, agents, editors, educators, and master-class 'teachers' compel them to write canned fiction with relatable characters that can easily be adapted into screenplays, and Road Out of Winter is certainly a good candidate for a movie ... Stine’s capable, dulcet prose makes us feel it: the lonesome monotony of a cold, slow-paced future and one woman’s struggle to navigate that future in tandem with a history that has short-changed her.

Stine (The Protectors) blends a rural thriller and speculative realism into what could be called dystopian noir. The author’s vision is profoundly moving, as distressing as Daniel Woodrell’s Winter’s Bone but liable to inspire real-world action ... Readers searching for a novel fueled by fierce intelligence and empathy will find here a celebration of humanity, and a warning against its loss.

Society collapses after two consecutive years of winter in this haunting dystopia from Stine (The Protectors) ... Stine’s prose is crisp and atmospheric ('The earth was so frozen it was like chipping at bone.... Snow quickly filled the holes I had made, as if even this small blackness was not allowed to stay in the new white world'), and though bleakness abounds, the ending strikes a lovely balance of hope and pathos. Fans of climate fiction and found family stories will be entranced.