Liz Worth’s debut novel is grim, dark, and unflinching. As the sole survivor of a mass suicide pact, Ang is barely hanging on. Her close companions, all of whom were part of an underground music scene that glorifies death, have killed themselves; Ang is uncertain whether her own survival is due to her late boyfriend’s intervention or her own botched efforts.

The world she finds herself in is, as Worth’s title implies, post-apocalyptic. Toronto as it once was no longer exists. Most of the population has vanished, and what’s left is a crumbling city inhabited by bottom-feeders like Ang. Ang and her friends spend their days trying to survive using whatever means necessary. But with electricity failing and their access to the drugs they are addicted to drying up, each moment might be their last. Money has lost all value, so dealers aren’t even accepting regular methods of payment, most asking instead for their customers to sit with them and tell them stories about their former lives.

Worth’s vividly imagined dystopian setting is terrifying and immersive. The author excels at making her version of Toronto both eerily familiar and intensely disturbing. Juxtaposing key landmarks with supernatural elements – such as an all-knowing, all-seeing “eye” that lives beneath the Bloor St. viaduct – Worth creates a disturbing milieu bordering on the one many readers know so well. The balance between reality and fantasy renders PostApoc at least somewhat accessible.

On the other hand, Worth doesn’t bend over backward to make her novel a comfortable reading experience. PostApoc is a death-metal love song to the end of days, and if that’s not your scene, this isn’t the book for you. Ang’s many anxieties and addictions, and the ways she copes, are not for the faint of heart. But if you’re game, the novel’s haunting prose and stunning visceral imagery truly get under your skin.