Nuestros días serán infinitos by Claire Fuller

Fuller’s disturbing debut operates as a meditation on how the most profound betrayals are often disguised as love. The forest becomes both sanctuary and prison, a space where a father’s apocalyptic delusions construct an entire false reality for his daughter. What makes this novel so unsettling is not the isolation itself, but the slow revelation of how completely a child’s perception can be shaped by the only authority she knows, and how long the echo of that manipulation persists.

Fuller writes as if she had inhabited that forest, as if she knew the exact smell of damp earth after winter dies and the precise sound of branches burning as you throw a musical score at them. Her prose transforms a place of absolute isolation into a world brimming with life: every tree breathes, every shadow holds secrets, every sunrise through the canopy feels like a revelation I myself witnessed. Rarely has a book transported me with such certainty to a place that doesn’t exist. Fuller achieves: making me believe die Hütte exists somewhere, waiting to be the last place witnessing the vestiges of humanity, even if it was a lie.