Burnt-out RVs, blood in the dirt, and the claustrophobia of secrets—these are just a few of the pressure points Holly Jackson subjects you to in her book Five Survive, a novel that suffocates you. When I first picked up this book, I expected a clever whodunit—maybe a fun, high-stakes mystery with teenagers running through the woods screaming.
At its core, Five Survive is about six teenagers trapped in an RV during what was supposed to be a spring break road trip. There’s Red, our narrator—a girl burdened by grief and crawling with secrets. Maddy, her best friend, always says too much or too little. Simon and Oliver, boys who play roles they’ve perfected but don’t fully believe in. Arthur, who barely speaks but watches everything. And Reyna, Oliver’s girlfriend, who’s too perfect to be trusted. They are clichés at first—until they aren’t. Until the storm falls, the tires go flat, the phones lose service, and the snipers start shooting.
But Five Survive is not about a sniper. Not really. It’s about what happens to people when the pretense drops. It’s about how loyalty gets tested when you’re cold and hungry and terrified. It’s about what gets said in the dark when you’re not sure you’ll see morning. And most of all, it’s about how secrets don’t just come out—they explode.
Red isn’t a typical protagonist. She’s not assertive. She’s not even particularly likable. She’s not here to make you root for her. She’s here to unravel. She’s the kind of girl who’s quietly carrying the weight of someone else’s guilt, the kind who’s been cast as a sidekick in her own life for so long she starts to believe she deserves it. Watching her shift, slowly and painfully, from someone who doesn’t speak to someone who has to—because silence is no longer a survival strategy—is what gives the book its real emotional weight.
The dialogue is vicious and raw. It’s not stylized or witty in the way teen thrillers sometimes are. It’s sharp. Ugly. Too loud in places and painfully quiet in others. Jackson understands that when people are under pressure, they don’t always reveal themselves—they protect themselves. Every accusation feels like a gamble. Every truth comes with a cost. That’s the heart of the novel. The real mystery isn’t who’s behind the sniper’s plot. It’s why. And more than that, it’s what each character is willing to lie about to stay alive—not just physically, but emotionally.
Jackson also pulls off a rare feat: she makes the setting feel intimate and terrifying. The entire book takes place in and around one broken-down RV. That’s it. No forest to run through. No creepy old house. Just a vehicle—and yet, it becomes its own character. The air gets thick with sweat, and every creak of the floorboards starts to feel like a loaded gun. The claustrophobia is the point.
What surprised me the most, though, was how deeply Five Survive is interested in justice. Not courtroom justice. Not vigilante justice. Personal justice. Emotional justice. It explores questions like: What do we owe to each other? Who gets to be punished? And who decides what punishment looks like? Jackson doesn’t hand you clear answers. She hands you a gutful of dread and dares you to find clarity through the fog.
There’s a moment—late in the book—where one of the characters begs another, “Tell me this was worth it.” And the response isn’t a speech. It’s silence. Because sometimes there is no clean resolution. No redemption arc. Just the mess we make and the people we hurt. And sometimes that’s the most honest ending of all.
Four stars.
