This is one of those books that everybody reads at the same time for some reason. I read it during its hype in Germany, in 1998 or 99.

It's an impressive existential survival tale, maybe even a bit Lovecraftian in its handling of the dark side of the soul. Garland first creates a sense of threat, of wrongness, then an atmosphere of the pure joy of living that is almost like a real vacation, which slowly crumbles away, and finally gives in to complete madness. When it's over, the reader is exhausted, and there remains a shade of fear that will not go away.

A brilliant first novel on a level he could never quite reach again.