By Sarah Lotz

Hodder, out now

To conquer Mount Everest is one of the pinnacles of human achievement – but not everyone goes there for the right reasons.

Sarah Lotz’s new novel isn’t – even peripherally – a continuation of the story begun in  The Three (although I hope she returns to that universe soon); it’s an incredibly creepy and effective standalone novel that I read through in one sitting… and felt more than a little trepidatious about switching off the light that night.

It doesn’t help that it begins with a long section set inside a cave system in Wales, where Lotz, through her narrator, really makes you feel the weight of the rocks above the caverns as Simon and his guide Ed slide through gaps that weren’t intended to be used as passages. Something happens down there that affects Simon deeply and if you’re even mildly claustrophobic, you’ll share his fears and concerns.

We then cut to diary entries from Juliet as she prepares to ascend Everest, still haunted by the death of her climbing partner and mentor the previous year – but is there more to it than simply a memory she can’t let go? The two stories overlap eventually as Simon heads to Everest to face his own challenges (and to say more about the plot would spoil some very neat switchbacks that Lotz layers into the story).

There’s not as much use of different media in this story as in Lotz’s earlier novels, but when she does switch from Simon’s narration / Juliet’s diary to emails or other forms, it works well. We spend a lot of time with the characters out in the snow, or in the various camps up Everest, and get to know them, both through what’s said in the narration and what’s left unsaid. People’s true natures are revealed by extreme circumstances and more than one character is laid bare – and doesn’t like what they find.

Beneath the horror, Lotz has also drawn fascinating psychological studies of people heading towards breakdowns, as obsessive behaviour becomes more than something to help cope with a situation (one key character has OCD traits and uses them to help focus) and takes over their lives. There’s haunting discussion too of some other psychological conditions – but I don’t want to think about that. but I’ll leave that for the reader to discover.

Like Chris Golden’s recent Ararat, The White Road is a story set in part on a famous mountain – but the demons here are perhaps not quite so literal. At least, you’ll want to keep telling yourself that…

Verdict: A chillingly effective and haunting tale. 9/10

Paul Simpson