Chris Snow has a rare genetic disease that makes bright light, especially sunlight, deadly to him. Even slight exposure could burn him and cause major skin cancer. He spends his days indoors, asleep. It's at sundown when his day starts. He rides his bike around the small California town of Moonlight Bay, night-surfs with his beach-bum buddy, and hooks up with his girlfriend. Other than the fact that his world is constantly shrouded in night, Chris lives a normal 20-something life.
Dean Koontz's 1997 novel "Fear Nothing" is, to put it nicely, weird. It's a horror novel, yes, but it's pretty funny for a horror novel. The fact that the main characters are white, rich, entitled young kids who don't care about anything other than surfing, watching movies, and listening to music should clue you in to the world Koontz is building in this story.
Don't get me wrong: the horror in this---when it arrives---is pretty damned horrifying. But this is an extremely slow-burn story, where Koontz drops clues throughout about the Big Reveal, and the events and happenings don't make any logical sense. The reader has the distinction of being in the exact same boat as Chris: you won't know what the fuck is going on until the very end, so just enjoy the ride.
The book takes place all in one 12-hour period, at night. Chris wakes up to the gut-wrenching news that his father---who has been in the hospital---has died. He rushes to the hospital where he witnesses the morgue inexplicably switch his father's body with that of a vagrant whose eyes have been ripped out. That's just the beginning of his night of weird, inexplicable shit. A night that will involve family secrets, government experiments, super-intelligent cats and dogs, vicious monkeys, and murder.
Thankfully, Koontz takes his cues less from Lovecraft than he does Lebowski in this. End-of-the-world Lovecraftian horror is simply more fun and hilarious when told from the perspective of bored, entitled, weed-smoking surfer kids.