The Night Ship by Alex Woodroe
Flame Tree Press (January 2026)
Reviewed by Elizabeth Broadbent
For Americans, it’s difficult to conceptualize what living under a truly authoritarian government means: the snitching, the pressure to conform, the everyday minutiae of life controlled by the state. Alex Woodroe captures these quandaries in The Night Ship. While it’s a wild ride of a cosmic horror novel, the setting and characterization of life under Ceau?escu are the real stars in this one.
Rosi, her supposed-fiancé Gigi, and hitchhiker Sorin are making a delivery run when a mysterious transmission comes over the radio. As it finishes, the world goes dark — real dark, cosmic-horror dark. The ground disappears into an endless abyss but, oddly, their truck floats. The trio must do their best to get out of the dark while avoiding the horrors which come from beneath.
All this is complicated by their (former, and maybe future) life under dictator Ceau?escu. Rosi suspects her fiancé, who she never intends to marry, may be an informant. The government is obviously about to off Sorin, a philosophy student. As the dark draws down and they attempt to follow radio transmissions, the trio has to negotiate both survival and the remnants of authoritarianism.
This novel makes the case that authoritarianism is cosmic horror. Rosi, Gigi, and Sorin are literally in the dark, a great metaphor for news blackouts or a total lack of control, a lack of ability to see: to conceive of the whole picture, to understand the vast forces and mechanisms bent on controlling every aspect of their lives. Under that penetrating dark, despite frantic attempts to follow radio signals, they have trouble finding and making connections with other people. Transmissions go dark, voices fall silent. Some of the voices may be attempting to lure them to their doom.
Paranoia is the rule here; distrust reins. Rosi, Gigi, and Sorin can hardly trust one another; can they trust anyone else? Woodroe does a phenomenal job of showing the ingrained paranoia that authoritarianism brings, as well as the ways that paranoia makes human connection all but impossible. How can you connect if you can’t trust anyone?
Woodroe also shows us the dehumanization that kind of control brings, as well as the ways that people attempt to subvert it. There’s guilt in succumbing to it, but in this world, at times bare survival depends on your willingness to throw others under the bus. There’s also a metaphor of purging or purifying that becomes especially poignant, but I won’t ruin it.
The Night Ship gives a window into a hidden world both historical and terrifyingly possible. Woodroe’s characters are well-drawn, complex, and sympathetic; the weirdness of the cosmic horror remains strange, other, and unexplainable. Moreover, the novel offers American audiences a window into a once closed-off world. As someone who was unfamiliar with exactly how bad Ceau?escu’s state was, this novel was an eye-opener, and recommended for that reason alone. The sapphic aspect is a small one, but it’s organic and well-done.
Sharp and incisive, The Night Ship teaches a class in extended metaphor, using a world that feels both far away and stomach-churningly close. In the current moment, a must-read.
