This book contains literally the worst pun in the entire world. You know how James Bond makes those ghastly puns whenever he murders someone? Some play on words related to the method of killing? Well, this book has one of those, and even worse, puts in the mouth of a character who has shown very little sense of humour up to this point, let alone a penchant for psychopathic chortling. It was so bad that I genuinely groaned out loud when reading.
However bad puns get, we cannot allow them to overshadow entire novels. And yet, I feel like this terrible pun was symptomatic of all my problems with what was otherwise a very solid horror story: that it was not always quite sure what mood it wanted to set, or who the characters wanted to be.
The haunted island is inhabited by creatures that (without spoiling too much) switch back and forth between gory, visceral, monstrous beasts and ethereal, spooky, tricky ghosts. I always prefer the spooky, creepy horror in a book, so every time the ghosts became solid and started knawing off extraneous body parts I lost all sense of creepiness, and gained nothing in revulsion. This is peculiar because in film I cannot bear torture porn or body horror. I can't even keep my eyes open in an episode of Casualty. But somehow, it didn't translate well into print - I don't know whether this fault lies in the descriptive prose or my imagination, but I feel like it may have been just the clunky way it flipped back and forth according to the needs of the plot. I can imagine that with a little more finesse the increasing strength and corporeality of the monsters could've added very much to the rising tension.
There were also some moments where the creepy horror tripped up. Most memorably, one moment where two characters are discussing something in the foreground, and a door swings open behind them and something with eyes peers out. The IT'S-BEHIND-YOU! trick is another that works very well in film, and not so well in print, because the written word cannot simultaneously show you both - it can only describe one after the other.
This is a negative and nitpicking criticism of the writing, and I think I'm only focusing on these failures so much because the rest of the book was so very good: an excellently paced, classic, trapped-in-a-haunting story. The minor faults stood out because they were so jarring against the rest. And, I think, because this is not the first horror novel I've read that felt like it would much rather have been a film.
I hope this doesn't become a trend. The techniques that work well in film don't all translate to the written word. Where the written word triumphs over film is in it's ability to share the inner landscape and psychology of the characters, and this book did not really take much advantage of the opportunity. The three main male characters: Kojima, Jin, and Sato are all given to wildly violent fantasies when annoyed, and I honestly can't tell if this is because the island draws in angry, damaged people or just limited characterisation. The two female characters, Mai and Yui, are respectively Madonna and whore. Yui is an especially lightly-drawn stereotype of a pretty girl, and when we finally get to see from her point of view, it's not to give us some insight into her character (of which there is none) but because we're running out of view-points. Mai is a sweet girl - and who can dislike a sweet girl? But I wish that her backstory had been more... meaningful? Her family problems are described in the early part of the book, and go some way to helping us sympathise with her personal failings, but they just aren't relevant to the rest of the story, and she doesn't have much character growth so it all gets quietly dropped by about midway.
Far and away the best character is police officer Henare, whose slovenly resignation to doing his duty is my favourite kind of heroism, and I wish he'd been the main character of the whole book rather than Jin, who I'm sure is very sexy and I've no doubt his Mysterious Tragic Past is intriguing - but give me real dirty moral struggles now, rather than heavy hints about sublime and melodramatic backstories to be revealed.
Again, I'm feeling bad that I've spent a couple of paragraphs criticising the characters, because it's not that they were bad. It's just that they had the potential to be so much better that I can't help but be a little disappointed. The book is, after all this carping, very good. And there was more than one occasion where I found myself fully immersed, holding my breath for those in peril on the page. If there are moments where it seems to be just one monster after another, these all too soon come together into a very satisfying denouement. One of the best stand-offs with the Big Bad that I've seen for a while.
All the pieces are there for a solid story - I just wanted them a little more polished at the joints.