The Fireman is big. It creates an alluringly weird world. It has a highly developed code of honor, not to mention an ever-surprising lineup of surreal tricks its characters can pull. And it thrives on fear, but has hope at heart... if Mr. Hill’s overarching plot has its problems, he remains a terrifically ingratiating writer when it comes to ambience and spirit.
It’s a page-turner — or perhaps page-burner is more appropriate — full of edge-of-your-seat tension and moral quandaries that simmer...This is a story with a lot of meat on its figurative grill. Aside from clocking in at 768 pages, The Fireman brings into sharp focus just how far humanity can go to justify certain actions in the name of safety. At its core, the novel asks what it means to be a decent human being, to protect what and who you love, and how far you’re willing to go in that protection. An imperfect world is burning to the ground and those who survive must find what’s worth fighting for in it.
...a splendid, fast-paced apocalyptic tale... Hill’s witty sense of fun permeates the novel’s larger themes of prejudice and redemption, making the book’s 700-plus pages a surprisingly quick read.
Like all of the best end-of-the-world scenarios The Fireman speaks more about current events and the world around us now than about the reality of any fictive future ... The Fireman is a harrowing look at what lengths humans will go to create what they believe is a safe space, never realizing how dangerous they are making that space to those they deem as outside the community.
Hill’s writing has matured along with his ideas. He plays out the apocalypse so quickly and efficiently, through small-town witnesses and television broadcasts, that it feels absolutely devastating. And in the aftermath, he juggles a huge cast of characters with aplomb, giving each their time to shine, yet still managing to keep the tension high throughout. It’s these more human moments that show his writing at its best: when Harper is thinking about the unborn child inside her, or helping to heal somebody, or dealing with the monster that her husband has become.
A sprawling and intimate sci-fi/horror tale, it surpasses mere genre mash-up by digging into love and passion while also boiling down the best and worst parts of ourselves when everything becomes literal hell ... At 750-plus pages, The Fireman is massive enough that you feel like you could put out an actual fire with it. Some wandering plot tangents aside, Hill keeps you invested in the characters’ survival up to the very last page and never lets up with the potential for doom at every turn.
The Fireman’s plot could be a little tighter: it has a tendency to sprawl. But it’s also a fantastically compelling read, Hill making the end of the world into a real and visceral thing with the deftest of touches ... But Hill doesn’t leave us hopeless. One of his characters, Renee, brings up another post-apocalyptic story, Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. 'People hunting dogs and each other and frying up babies and it was awful,' she says. 'But we need kindness like we need to eat. It satisfies something in us we can’t do without.' Too right.
Hill knows that many readers will have other post-apocalyptic novels in mind as they follow Harper’s journey, chief among them The Stand and Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. He doesn’t let those inevitable associations hinder him, though. He acknowledges his literal and literary forebears, cheerfully sprinkling the text with references to the Stephen King multiverse ... Although Hill employs a wide narrative canvas, he keeps his focus tight, concentrating on a handful of vivid characters operating mostly within the limited geographic area of the New Hampshire Seacoast ... Although nearly 800 pages, The Fireman never feels like a slog. Hill definitely knows how to ratchet up the suspense, even if he sometimes relies too heavily on 'had they but known!' chapter endings.
Joe Hill knocks another one out of the park, offering readers a novel that is both timely and timeless ... The Fireman is a novel rich with ideas and socially commentary, but in no way is it dense or didactic. Quite the contrary, the narrative is gripping, the prose both accessible and gorgeous, and the characters relatable and easy to root for. It is a thick read, but at the same time, it's hard to put down, so make sure to give your wrists and arms a good workout before diving in, else you'll likely cramp from holding the book so long.
