If you’re different enough, the night is not your enemy, the darkness is not intimidating, the shadows are not terrifying. You fear nothing.
Christopher Snow is different from all the other residents of Moonlight Bay, different from anyone you’ve ever met. For Christopher Snow has made his peace with a very rare genetic disorder that leaves him dangerously vulnerable to light. His life is filled with the fascinating rituals of one who must embrace the dark. He knows the night as no one else can—its mystery, its beauty, its terrors, and the eerie silken rhythms that seduce one into believing anything—even freedom—is possible.
Until the night Christopher Snow witnesses a series of disturbing incidents that sweep him into a violent mystery only he can solve, a mystery that will force him to rise above all fears and confront the many-layered secrets of Moonlight Bay and its strange inhabitants. A place, like all places, that looks a lot different after dark.
About the Author
Dean Koontz, the author of many #1 New York Times bestsellers, lives in Southern California with his wife, Gerda, their golden retriever, Anna, and the enduring spirit of their golden, Trixie.
Hometown:Newport Beach, California
Date of Birth:July 9, 1945
Place of Birth:Everett, Pennsylvania
Education:B.S. (major in English), Shippensburg University, 1966
Read an Excerpt
On the desk in my candlelit study, the telephone rang, and I knew that a terrible change was coming.
I am not psychic. I do not see signs and portents in the sky. To my eye, the lines in my palm reveal nothing about my future, and I don't have a Gypsy's ability to discern the patterns of fate in wet tea leaves.
My father had been dying for days, however, and after spending the previous night at his bedside, blotting the sweat from his brow and listening to his labored breathing, I knew that he couldn't hold on much longer. I dreaded losing him and being, for the first time in my twenty-eight years, alone.
I am an only son, an only child, and my mother passed away two years ago. Her death had been shock, but at least she had not been forced to endure a lingering illness.
Last night just before dawn, exhausted, I had returned home to sleep. But I had not slept much or well.
Now I leaned forward in my chair and willed the phone to fall silent, but it would not.
The dog also knew what the ringing meant. He padded out of the shadows into the candleglow, and stared sorrowfully at me.
Unlike the others of his kind, he will hold any man's or woman's gaze as long as he is interested. Animals usually stare directly at us only briefly—then look away as though unnerved by something they see in the human eyes. Perhaps Orson sees what other dogs see, and perhaps he, too, is disturbed by it, but he is not intimidated.
He is a strange dog. But he is my dog, my steadfast friend, and I love him.
On the seventh ring, I surrender to the inevitable and answer the phone.
The caller was a nurse at Mercy Hospital. I spoke to her without looking away from Orson.
My father was quickly fading. The nurse suggested I come to his bedside without delay.
As I put down the phone, Orson approached my chair and rested his burly black head in my lap. He whimpered softly and nuzzled my hand. He did not wag his tail.
For a moment I was numb, unable to think or act. The silence of the house, as deep as water in an oceanic abyss, was a crushing, immobilizing pressure. Then I phoned Sasha Goodall to ask her to drive me to the hospital.
Usually she slept from noon until eight o'clock. She spun music in the dark, from midnight until six o'clock in the morning, on KBAY, the only radio station in Moonlight Bay. At a few minutes past five on this March evening, she was most likely asleep, and I regretted the need to wake her.
Like sad-eyed Orson, however, Sasha was my friend, to whom I could always turn. And she was a far better driver than the dog.
She answered on the second ring, with no trace of sleepiness in her voice. Before I could tell her what had happened, she said, "Chris, I am so sorry," as though she had been waiting for this call and as if in the ringing of her phone she had heard the same ominous note the Orson and I had heard in mine.
I bit my lip and refused to consider what was coming. As long as Dad was alive, hope remained that his doctors were wrong. Even at the eleventh hour, the cancer might go into remission.
I believe in the possibility of miracles.
After all, in spite of my condition, I have lived more than twenty-eight years, which is a miracle of sorts - although some other people, seeing my life from outside, might think it is a curse.
I believe in the possibility of miracles, but more to the point, I believe in our need for them.
"I'll be there in five minutes," Sasha promised.
At night I could walk to the hospital, but at this hour I would be too much of a spectacle and in too great a danger if I tried to make the trip on foot.
"No," I said. "Drive carefully. I'll probably take ten minutes or more to get ready."
"Love you, Snowman."
"Love you, " I replied.
I replaced the cap on the pen with which I had been writing when the call came from the hospital, and I put it aside with the yellow legal-size tablet.
Using a long-handled brass snuffer, I extinguished the three fat candles. Thin, sinuous ghosts of smoke writhed in the shadows.
Now, an hour before twilight, the sun was low in the sky but still dangerous. It glimmered threateningly at the edges of the pleated shades that covered all the windows.
Anticipating my intentions, as usual, Orson was already out of the room, padding across the upstairs hall.
He is a ninety-pound Labrador mix, as black as a witch's cat. Through the layered shadows of our house, he roams all but invisibly, his presence betrayed only by the thump of his big paws on the area rugs and by the click of his claws on the hardwood floors.
In my bedroom, across the hall from the study, I didn't bother to switch on the dimmer-controlled, frosted-glass ceiling fixture. The indirect, sour-yellow light of the westering sun, pressing at the edges of the window shades, was sufficient for me.
My eyes are better adapted to gloom than are those of most people. Although I am, figuratively speaking, a brother to the owl, I don't have a special gift for nocturnal sight, nothing as romantic or as thrilling as a paranormal talent. Simply this: Lifelong habituation to darkness has sharpened my night vision.
Orson leaped onto the footstool and then curled on the armchair to watch me as I girded myself for the sunlit world.
From a pullman drawer in the adjoining bathroom, I withdrew a squeeze bottle of lotion that included a sunscreen with a rating of fifty. I applied it generously to my face, ears, and neck.
The lotion had a faint coconut scent, an aroma that I associate with palm trees in sunshine, tropical skies, ocean vistas spangled with noontime light, and other things that will be forever beyond my experience. This, for me, is the fragrance of desire and denial and hopeless yearning, the succulent perfume of the unattainable.
Sometimes I dream that I am walking on a Caribbean beach in a rain of sunshine, and the white sand under my feet seems to be a cushion of pure radiance. The warmth of the sun on my skin is more erotic than a lover's touch. In the dream, I am not merely bathed in light but pierced by it. When I wake, I am bereft.
Now the lotion, although smelling of the tropical sun, was cool on my face and neck. I also worked it into my hands and wrists.
The bathroom featured a single window at which the shade was currently raised, but the space remained meagerly illuminated because the glass was frosted and because the incoming sunlight was filtered through the graceful limbs of the metrosideros. The silhouettes of leaves fluttered on the pane.
In the mirror above the sink, my reflection was little more than a shadow. Even if I switched on the light, I would not have had a clear look at myself, because the single bulb in the overhead fixture was of low wattage and had a peach tint.
Only rarely have I seen my face in full light.
Sasha says that I remind her of James Dean, more as he was in East of Eden than in Rebel Without a Cause.
I myself don't perceive the resemblance. The hair is the same, yes, and the pale blue eyes. But he looked so wounded, and I do not see myself that way.
I am not James Dean. I am no one but me, Christopher Snow, and I can live with that.
Finished with the lotion, I returned to the bedroom. Orson raised his head from the armchair to savor the coconut scent.
I was already wearing athletic socks, Nikes, blue jeans, and a black t-shirt. I quickly pulled on a black denim shirt with long sleeves and buttoned it at the neck.
Orson trailed me downstairs to the foyer. Because the porch was deep with a low ceiling, and because two massive California live oaks stood in the yard, no direct sun could reach the sidelights flanking the front door; consequently, they were not covered with curtains or blinds. The leaded panes—geometric mosaics of clear, green, red, and amber glass—glowed softly like jewels.
I took a zippered, black leather jacket from the coat closet. I would be out after dark, and even following a mild March day, the central coast of California can turn chilly when the sun goes down.
From the closet shelf, I snatched a navy blue, billed cap and pulled it on, tugging it low on my head. Across the front, above the visor, in ruby-red embroidered letters, were the words Mystery Train.
One night during the previous autumn, I had found the cap in Fort Wyvern, the abandoned military base inland from Moonlight Bay. It had been the only object in a cool, dry, concrete-walled room three stories underground.
Although I had no idea to what the embroidered words might refer, I had kept the cap because it intrigued me.
As I turned toward the front door, Orson whined beseechingly.
I stooped and petted him. "I'm sure Dad would like to see you one last time, fella. I know he would. But there's no place for you in a hospital."
His direct, coal-black eyes glimmered. I could have sworn that his gaze brimmed with grief and sympathy. Maybe that was because I was looking at him through repressed tears of my own.
My friend Bobby Halloway says that I tend to anthropomorphize animals, ascribing to them human attributes and attitudes which they do not, in fact, possess.
Perhaps this is because animals, unlike some people, have always accepted me for what I am. The four-legged citizens of Moonlight Bay seem to possess a more complex understanding of life—as well as more kindness - than at least some of my neighbors.
Bobby tells me that anthropomorphizing animals, regardless of my experiences with them, is a sign of immaturity. I tell Bobby to go copulate with himself.
I comforted Orson, stroking his glossy coat and scratching behind his ears. He was curiously tense. Twice he cocked his head to listen intently to sounds I could not hear - as if he sensed a threat looming, something even worse than the loss of my father.
At that time, I had not yet seen anything suspicious about Dad's impending death. Cancer was only fate, not murder—unless you wanted to try bringing criminal charges against God.
That I had lost both parents within two years, that my mother had died when she was only fifty-two, that my father was only fifty-six as he lay on his deathbed...well, all this just seemed to be my poor luck—which had been with me, literary, since my conception.
Later, I would have reason to recall Orson's tension—and good reason to wonder if he had sensed the tidal wave of trouble washing toward us.
Bobby Halloway would surely sneer at this and say that I am doing worse than anthropomorphizing the mutt, that now I am ascribing superhuman attributes to him. I would have to agree—and then tell Bobby to go copulate vigorously with himself.
Anyway, I petted and scratched and generally comforted Orson until a horn sounded in the street and then, almost at once, sounded again in the driveway.
Sasha had arrived.
In spite of the sunscreen of my neck, I turned up the collar of my jacket for additional protection.
From the Stickely-style foyer table under a print of Maxfield Parrish's Daybreak, I grabbed a pair of wraparound sunglasses.
With my hand on the hammered-copper doorknob, I turned to Orson once more. "We'll be all right."
In fact I didn't know quite how we could go on without my father. He was our link to the world of light and to the people of the day.
More than that, he loved me as no one left on earth could love me, as only a parent could love a damaged child. He understood me as perhaps no one would ever understand me again.
"We'll be all right," I repeated.
The dog regarded me solemnly and chuffed once, almost pityingly, as if he knew I was lying.
I opened the front door, and as I went outside, I put on the wraparound sunglasses. The special lenses were totally UV-proof.
My eyes are my point of greatest vulnerability. I can take no risk whatsoever with them.
Sasha's green Ford Explorer was in the driveway, with the engine running, and she was behind the wheel.
I closed the house door and locked it. Orson had made no attempt to slip out at my heels.
A breeze had sprung up from the west: an onshore flow with the faint, astringent scent of the sea. The leaves of the oaks whispered as if transmitting secrets branch to branch.
My chest grew so tight that my lungs felt constricted, as was always the case when I was required to venture outside in the daylight. This symptom was entirely psychological but nonetheless affecting.
Going down the porch steps and along the flagstone walk to the driveway, I felt weighed down. Perhaps this was how a deep-sea diver might feel in a pressure suit with a kingdom of water overhead.
Table of Contents
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On Tuesday, January 13, 1998, barnesandnoble.com on AOL welcomed bestselling author Dean Koontz. Weaving fear, compassion, evil, courage, hope, wonder, and suspense into every novel, Koontz has sold more than 200 million copies of his 33 books worldwide, produced a dozen No. 1 New York Times bestsellers, and earned him the devotion of fans around the world. His latest book is FEAR NOTHING.
JainBN: Mr. Koontz, thanks so much for joining us this evening! It's truly a pleasure and an honor to have you.
Question: Do you plan on being personally involved with any movies or miniseries based on your works?
Dean Koontz: PHANTOMS, which releases January 23rd, uses my screenplay, and I served as executive producer. I think the film works extremely well, and I'm finishing a screenplay for another project on which I intend to have equal power. ABC is currently filming MR. MURDER as a miniseries to air in May, and I chose the screenwriter, Stephen Tolkin, who has delivered a tremendous script. So to some extent, I'm turning into a movie monkey.
Question: I love the way you use animals, particularly dogs, in your novels. Do you have any pets?
Dean Koontz: Right now, we are dogless, but that will change sometime this summer. My big problem is what to name the pooch: Einstein, Scootie, Orson (the dog in FEAR NOTHING), or Woofer.
Question: I loved the short story "Twilight of the Dawn." Did that story reflect your own religious views?
Dean Koontz: To the extent that I believe life has meaning, purpose, and a spiritual dimension, yes, the story speaks for me.
Question: Do you read a lot? What are you reading right now?
Dean Koontz: Lately, I've had so little time to read because of all the film work I've been doing, and because Bantam Books has the strange idea that I should remember my contract with them and deliver the sequel to FEAR NOTHING.
Question: Was there a book that was particularly hard for you to write for some reason? Which book and why?
Dean Koontz: They're all difficult to one extent or another. But they're all a joy at the same time.
Question: Are you a big fan of surfing the Internet?
Dean Koontz: I'm a big fan of surfing. All of the characters in FEAR NOTHING are surf mongrels. I don't dare let myself leap onto the Internet, because I am an obsessive-compulsive. I would probably not want to get up from the keyboard, and be found decomposing by the housekeeper.
Question: Were you happy with Katherine Ramsland's biography of you?
Dean Koontz: Reading two pages about oneself is embarrassing. Reading 500 pages about oneself is mortifying. I am the last person on earth to be able to judge Kathie's book. People whose opinions I trust tell me it's a very nice job.
Question: You used to write under a ton of pseudonyms. Was that your own idea or the publisher's?
Dean Koontz: It wasn't multiple-personality syndrome. My agents and publishers always wanted me to use a different name every time I wrote in a different style. I've absorbed all these identities within myself and will henceforth use only my name. I am, however, having a little trouble keeping all these personalities under control, and the biggest problem is that twice a year I have to buy new wardrobes of women's clothes to satisfy the Leigh Nichols in me.
Question: Are you going to revise and release any more of your earlier novels, like you did with DEMON SEED?
Dean Koontz: Ultimately there might be a couple additional titles of that nature. Right now I am finishing book number two for Bantam, and an unusual original novel that, like TICKTOCK, might appear in paperback.
Question: SOLE SURVIVOR was truly disturbing. Do you have any fears of flying?
Dean Koontz: Yes, I have spoken on the "Late Late Show with Tom Snyder" of an incident aboard an airplane that turned me off flying for the foreseeable future. You know your flight is in trouble when the nun across the aisle is screaming, "We're all going to die!"
Question: I understand you researched XP [xeroderma pigmentosum] for more than six years. What exactly did that research entail?
Dean Koontz: Obtaining every medical paper I could locate on the subject, and speaking with physicians and family members of those with the affliction.
Question: Your latest novel is about a man with a rare skin condition called xeroderma pigmentosum. How did you become acquainted with the existence of this condition?
Dean Koontz: The condition is not just of the skin, but of the eyes as well. Light of virtually any kind, even fluorescent lights and ordinary lightbulbs, can cause cumulative damage to people with this condition, leading to an early death from cancer. I read an article in an obscure journal about someone with XP, and as I became interested enough to research it, I also saw a story about two young girls similarly afflicted. The serendipity of seeing these two pieces close together seemed to me like an omen, and I knew I needed to write a book about it.
Question: Mr. Koontz, obviously you love to write. What other creative outlets do you explore?
Dean Koontz: Some of the work I've been doing in films, as an executive producer with teeth, has proved to be creatively satisfying. My wife and I really enjoy interior design, which is why from time to time we need to gut a house and remake it. I also enjoy making statues of Richard Simmons out of such ordinary household items as sugar cubes, dried beans, toothpicks, and cocktail weenies.
Question: Who are some of your favorite current authors?
Dean Koontz: I really like Jim Harrison, Anne Tyler, Elmore Leonard, and the host of writers who are my friends, so I dare not mention any of them, because if I mention some and not the others, I'll get no more dinner invitations.
Question: Even though it's the first of a trilogy, does FEAR NOTHING stand on its own?
Dean Koontz: Yes. In fact, each of the books in the trilogy should be readable in any order, and each should stand entirely on its own. This is proving to be an interesting challenge, but so far, I think it's working. Of course, all of you will tell me whether I'm right or wrong about that.
Question: Do you have any plans to return to writing short stories? I loved your collection STRANGE HIGHWAYS.
Dean Koontz: At the moment, I have no short stories planned. One of the problems is that a short story, if it's well done, takes me anywhere from two weeks to a month. A screenplay can take a month or two, and I'd much rather, at this moment, put all extra energy into screenplays rather than short stories. Writing short stories, I never get the chance to meet Peter O'Toole.
Question: The illustrated edition of FEAR NOTHING is gorgeous. Were you pleased with how it turned out?
Dean Koontz: I am a great fan of Phil Parks. I think he did a brilliant job on this. And if you check out the FEAR NOTHING Web site, you'll see two more paintings by Phil of other characters in the book, which were not included in the limited edition.
Question: What can we expect to see from Dean Koontz late in the year? What are you working on now?
Dean Koontz: Currently I'm polishing my shoes.
Question: At what point in your life did you know you needed to write?
Dean Koontz: I was writing from the age of 8, but I didn't know that I needed to do it until I was about 20. By the time I was 25, the act of writing itself was nearly as necessary to me as food.
Question: Do you retain any control of your story line when you sell the rights for a movie?
Dean Koontz: These days, I refuse to make a deal unless I've got a strong measure of control. I either want to write it myself or choose the writer, and have intimate involvement all the way through the cutting process. If I could clone myself, I would serve as the projectionist in every theater showing the movie.
Question: I was wondering if there would ever be a movie based on your novel LIGHTNING? I have to say, that was an incredible novel!
Dean Koontz: Thank you. I have never allowed LIGHTNING to be offered to film, because there are an infinite number of ways that Hollywood could screw it up. Currently I'm working with a producer to find a way to realize a production of this book, either from a script of mine or one by a writer I admire. Stay tuned.
Question: Have any of your books scared you as you were writing them?
Dean Koontz: I wrote half of INTENSITY while hiding under a bed.
Question: Do you have someone whose personal opinion and critique of your work you value more than others?
Dean Koontz: My wife. And then, depending on the project, I like to have a roundtable session with the neighborhood dogs to see what they think of it.
Question: How long does it take you usually to write a novel from start to finish?
Dean Koontz: I work from 7:30 in the morning until dinner with no lunch break, and those long sessions can be very productive, because you stay focused and more easily fall away into the story. Working under that schedule, I can spend anywhere from five months to a year on a novel. Although the average is probably between five and seven months.
Question: Dean, have you forgiven your father, or at least exorcised him through your books?
Dean Koontz: I exorcised him by learning all the lessons he had to teach me about how not to live a life. By living a life in opposition to his, the exorcism took place. Forgiveness is not essential, and forgetting is impossible. One simply decides to move on and to choose to be happy.
Question: Mr. Koontz, I loved TICKTOCK, and at the end of the novel you stated that you might consider writing shorter stories using the same characters. Will you still be doing that? If not, could you just do one more novel with those characters, dog and all?
Dean Koontz: I would like to write a sequel to TICKTOCK. But currently I am engaged in a series featuring the characters in FEAR NOTHING, and since one of them is also a dog, I think it might be too much of a good thing to revisit TICKTOCK in the near future.
Question: Where do you come up with most of your ideas? (Dreams, comments, things you have seen, perhaps?)
Dean Koontz: I own a time machine. I travel forward into the future and steal all my ideas from bestselling writers in the next century. That answer, believe it or not, makes no less sense than any other I could give you. I think ideas come so easily to me because I'm always working and, therefore, always exercising imagination.
Question: Mr. Koontz, first I would like to thank you for your company on all those nights of insomnia. Was there ever a time when you wanted the antagonist to win, where in the book he did not?
Dean Koontz: I truly believe that while evil can win in the short term, it rarely triumphs in the long term. In my experience, those people who live life in a way that causes pain to others eventually pay for it with great unhappiness of their own. People who live with consideration for others often live happier and more rewarding lives. I'm trying to take over from the late Mother Teresa. Is that what I sound like?
Question: Mr. Koontz, I have read all of your books and enjoyed them all. My question is, Will you follow King and Saul by writing a miniseries?
Dean Koontz: The only miniseries I might write would be for television. I understand why readers might like serial novels published in volumes, but it just seems too messy and expensive to me.
JainBN: This will be our last question for Mr. Koontz tonight.
Question: First of all, I want to thank you for all the enjoyment I received from reading your books for the last 15 or so years. Second, I would like to know, Which of your books was your personal favorite, and why?
Dean Koontz: For many years, I said that WATCHERS was my favorite of my own books. Others that came close were LIGHTNING, THE BAD PLACE, INTENSITY, and MR. MURDER. But right now, at this minute, I feel that FEAR NOTHING is probably the best thing I've done. Why? Because I love the characters in this book, and for me, the characters count more than anything else.
JainBN: Thank you, Mr. Koontz, and please come again upon the publication of your next book! Any closing comments?
Dean Koontz: I thank you for giving me your questions tonight. I hope you enjoy FEAR NOTHING. And please remember that extraterrestrials cannot be trusted with your credit cards.
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
I loved both Seize the Night and Fear Nothing and wish there were more sequels
This is arguably one of the best suspense books I have ever read! Whoever said this book's plot is encompassed by saying 'The end of the world by monkeys' apparently didnt get into the story...you have to become the characters, on a level, to really drain every ounce from a book... The plot involves a huge conspiracy, beginning with his dead father's body being swapped with a bum's before being cremated...this is the start of a face-paced night that escalates practically non-stop. Everything was believable, even the dog, Orson. I have studied a lot on the subject of gene therapy, etc and it seems plausible that one day we could be faced with a similar retrovirus. I never stopped and questioned the character's 'believablity factors' A good read, though I wish it were longer. :)
I love Chris Snow. I think these are better than the Odd Thomas books (although I enjoyed those also). These are just much more thrilling.
What an interesting character? Loved this one. Love many of his but this one was unique.
If you like Dean Koontz, and you like offbeat, creepy, spellbinding books, this one is for you. With echos of Odd Thomas, Christopher Snow is a fascinating character with a very real disease that makes it deadly for him to be in the light. When his father dies, he is left with the knowledge that his death, and his mother's may not have been natural. Which brings into question the strange abandoned fort on the edge of town and the preternaturally intelligent monkeys wandering the streets. Well written, well paced and completely un-put-downable.
if you like odd thomas, you will love this.
Although I have not finished the book yet I have very much enjoyed. It's main character Christopher Snow has been able to grab my attention right at the start. He helps me imagine all that he feels and sees. I listen to it on my way to and from work sometimes it gets so good I have to sit in my car a few minutes extra just to get to the climatic part so I will have something to look forward to when I heading out to work.
Dean Koontz is generaly more graphic and intense in his writing. I don't know what whent wrong. Yes there have been a few other of his books that I also found to be verry dissapointing but I've found that they are few and far between. He never realy got into what was realy gooing on and i didn't feal as into the book as I usualy get. This was a book that I COULD put down (in the middle of the chapter) But I keep reading until the end. The end was the most disapointing part. The sad thing is I'll probably read the sencond part to see if it gets better.
dislike Fear Nothing. Am generally a Koontz fan This story would just sometimes bore me. As expected there were terrors for Christopher to experience, but each time the words and thoughts would just go on and on and on and on. Almost long enough for me to want to put the story aside or skip ahead. I trudged along though because there was that glimmer of "what next"? And who doesn't love a lovable big dog like Orson! And for goodness sake, it's by Dean Koontz. I wonder if he's really a surfer or just infatuated with the idea of being one; find it hard to believe they carry on conversations like this. JDL 1/8/19
Not one of the author's best works. Ending could have been better as there's not much hope for the future.
Terrific read! Koontz creates such wonderful characters and blends scienc, fiction, and horror so well!
And again? The same stutter stop dialogue and the same lyrical narrative with different characters. Just so predictable becoming boring.
Book may have been great but the reader's voice was to low of a tone and too soft foe listening in a car. I had to max the volume but could not hear the soft voice and many times whispered. This may be a good listen at home but not in a car with road noise.
This book was based on an interesting idea - the main character cannot go out due to an extreme skin condition which means any kind of sunlight could place him at risk of developing cancer. We see things through his eyes as he roams the town at night time, and we meet his friends, one of whom is a surf dude so laid back he is practically horizontal. The story is not bad at all, quite moving in places, and left me wanting to read the next in the series about this character.
As I've got a large collection of Koontz novels that I have yet to read, I usually pull one out when I need a filler book in between other novels. He is truly hard to classify. Being very prolific, his two or so novels a year, give a large variety of styles and genres to choose from. As he is typically classified in the horror section his novels are often overlooked by those that stay away from the genre for one reason or another. That is usually a mistake as his are not your typical horror novel. Fear Nothing, in my mind, falls more in the realm of thriller or actually a mystery and not so much horror. Here we follow Christopher Snow, a young man with a genetic disorder that leaves him vulnerable to light, as he is swept up in a mystery following the death of his father. This is a fast paced novel that lacks some substance and I do wish that his genetic disorder was explored a bit more. I do suspect that the future novels in the Christopher Snow series will explore this a bit more.Overall an enjoyable novel. Probably not a real memorable novel, but I do look forward to reading the rest in the series.
Really good thrill reading--love this series
i've never found an author who was so successful at description of situation and surroundings as is koontz. he is by far my favorite. and this is by far my favorite book of his. it's hard NOT to fall completely in love with christopher snow and his quirky life. the supporting characters in this book are also very rounded and charming. moonlight bay is a place you want to visit - to see if you can discover more secrets - but better be careful you don't run into a pack of mutant monkies!
First of all, this is one of the strangest books I have ever read. Dean Koontz clearly has a mind unlike most people on this planet. But I love it. The bizarre science fiction interests me in a way that most other things can't. The thing that starts this book off to a total victory in my liking of it is the main character. He is an extremely personable and lovable guy. And wait, he has a disease in which he sunlight harms his skin rendering him ultimately nocturnal. You can't go wrong with this in my mind. Once I read this, I was hooked. Now on top of this, throw in some great action scenes, crazy science projects, and um... evil monkeys, and you've got something I can't resist. Sure people may say that this is just too crazy and impossible for enjoyment, but I am certainly not one of those people. Simply having an interesting, in this case extremely interesting, main character who displays natural heroics and nothing "phony" (thanks Holden) creates an irresistible book that I was unable to put down until it was finished. The sequel, "Seize the Night", was equally entertaining, and even more insane.
Chris Snow has a genetic disorder which causes UV light to inflict permanent and cumulative damage. Thus his life is necessarily lived between dusk and dawn. Soon after his father dies from cancer, Chris starts running into a bunch of weirdness and people not telling him things. There's a lot of vague talk of the end of the world, of people "becoming," and not a whole lot of straight answers. Chris spends his time running from suspicious-acting friend to suspicious-acting friend to find out The Truth. I remember really liking this book when I first read it a few years ago, but this time I felt more lukewarm. Chris didn't have a whole lot of personality, flipping from surf bum to intellectual to philosopher, depending on who he was talking to. This would be a good book for someone new to bio-thrillers. As for me, well, it was a decent way to spend the commute, but I won't be reading it again.
This is my favorite Dean Koontz book. It develops into the usual Koontz conspiracy plot, but begins with a woman who begins having panic attacks that center around her own possible capacity to do harm with anything close at hand. This turns out to be hypnotically induced - leading me to wonder, COULD you plant a suggestion in someone's mind causing them to be paralyzed with the fear that they will do some unspecified evil? Probably. It's intriguingly diabolical. And of course it's satisfying to watch the good guys triumph in the end, as they mostly do in Koontz.
My all time favorite book. I have read it over and over and everytime I think about it I want to read it again. Ingenious way to foretell the end of the world. Not the normal Armageddon, not the end of the world by Zombies. Its the end of the world by genetically engineered People and Animals who become smarter, meaner, and more skilled in everything they do, and are slowly bringin down the end of Moonlight Bay.. and someday the world.
Not spectacular, but entertaining. California coastal town and descriptions ring true. Story's premise a bit "out there," but if you enjoy Koontz, you'll probably like this.
Great book. Christopher Snow's world is turned upside down after his father's death. The story covers one night, the night of his father's death when Chris stumbles upon secret and frightening things going on in his small town. While roaming the town with his bike and trusty dog (who may be more than just a dog) Chris tries to unravel the mystery surounding the now closed military compound, what the government let go on there and how his family is (or was) involved.I really enjoyed reading this book. It was mysterious and plausible enough to be creepy and scary. The characters were well formed with out being over done and I loved Orson (Chris's black lab mix). It did get a little wordy in places but overall an exciting and suspenseful read. I am interested to see how the story continues.
When I was younger, I was a huge Dean Koontz fan. As I got older, my reading tastes changed, and there came a point where I realized there were several Koontz books I hadn't read, and I wasn't terribly concerned about it. I still liked the stuff of his I had read - indeed, Watchers is a favorite of mine even now, good for a reread every so often - I just no longer felt the need to devour everything of his the way I once did.So the other day I was searching my shelves for something to read, and I realized I had a couple of Koontz books that I'd picked up and never read. I grabbed Fear Nothing, and reading the description brought back a ghost of the excitement I used to feel when contemplating a new Koontz. I decided to give it a go, and I'm glad I did. The typical flaws that turned down my dial on Koontz are present: the ridiculously idealized characters, the wooden dialogue, the complete lack of nuance and subtlety, you name it. But all that aside, this book was just fun. He can set up a suspenseful scene, that's for sure; and few writers nail the bond with a dog with the skill (not to mention the persistence) that he does.I did like how he mentioned, at least obliquely, the events of Watchers in this book, because up to that point I was thinking he had come across his notes from that novel and decided he could make another book out of them. That's how similar the two are. There are some elements of Midnight thrown in as well. Those are two of the books in the wheelhouse of my Koontz-obsessed period, so reading this was a nice blast from the past, even though I hadn't read it before. I'll have to check out Seize the Night, too; luckily, I have that one on my shelf as well.
This was a typical Koontz book with a mixture of suspense, science fiction, and a very smart dog. I really enjoyed it until the end, which left some things unresolved. I have noticed since starting this book that Christopher Snow also appears in Seize the Night, so maybe we will learn more about what happens next in that book. I thought the person reading this recorded version did an excellent job. He managed to make the characters seem real and added personality in the voices that he gave to the characters.