A Spine-Tingling Journey: Paul Tremblay’s Another
When I first heard that Paul Tremblay, the mastermind behind some of the most chilling psychological horror novels, was making his middle grade debut with Another, I couldn’t resist the urge to dive in. Tremblay has a knack for crafting narratives that linger in the mind long after the last page is turned, and I was curious to see how he would channel that talent into a story for younger readers. Spoiler: he doesn’t disappoint.
Another beautifully intertwines themes of isolation, identity, and belonging—all woven into the unsettling fabric of pandemic life. Twelve-year-old Casey Wilson is grappling not only with the disorientation of hybrid learning and social anxiety but also with the ramifications of his own “Zoom Incident,” a moment that’s left him friendless and vulnerable. The introduction of Morel, a curious, clay-skinned boy, initially feels like a twist of fate. However, as Casey’s relationship with Morel evolves from friendship to something far more sinister, the narrative highlights the primal fear of being replaced by a seemingly better version of oneself.
One of the most striking elements of Another is the authenticity with which Tremblay captures childhood fears and emotions. Casey’s struggles with facial tics and social anxiety are handled with remarkable empathy, allowing young readers to feel seen without trivialization. I found myself rooting for Casey, particularly during his artistic journey where drawing becomes not just an expression, but his lifeline—to his identity, his family connections, and ultimately, his salvation. “When the mysterious antagonist forbids Casey from drawing,” Tremblay writes, “it’s not just a plot device—it’s an assault on his core identity.” This sentiment resonated deeply with me, reminding me of the importance of creativity as an anchor in turbulent times.
The pacing and tension are crafted with great skill; Tremblay is patient, allowing unease to build through meticulous detail—from strange phone calls to peculiar occurrences that creep into Casey’s home life. It creates an atmosphere thick with anticipation. The structured format of numbered chapters adds a subtle countdown element, which heightened my sense of urgency as the days of Morel’s visit unfolded.
Yet, this novel isn’t without its complexities. Some younger readers may find the psychological layers of Casey’s relationship with Morel both intriguing and challenging. The haunting nature of the story can evoke real emotions tied to the experiences of isolation many faced during the pandemic. Furthermore, the resolution left a few questions dangling, inviting readers to ponder ambiguities that might not sit well with everyone. But for me, it was a fitting tribute to the often ambiguous nature of real life and horror alike.
In summation, Another is an exceptional achievement in middle grade literature, deftly balancing the twin pillars of thematic depth and age-appropriate content. Tremblay successfully exposes young readers to recognition and reflection on their fears—a hallmark of great storytelling. If you’re a middle-grade reader looking for a creepy adventure or an adult drawn to heartfelt narratives that explore the darker edges of childhood, this book is undoubtedly for you.
Reading Another was like catching up with an old friend—one whose stories leave a lasting impression. Its haunting narrative reminds us that while childhood fears may evolve, they are part of what makes us distinctly human. I can’t wait to share this chilling tale with my younger readers—and perhaps even revisit it myself. Happy reading!