In 2019, I reconnected with my cousin, Rob. There was never any fallout, or anything like that, but he was eight years older than me, we didn’t see each other often when we were growing up, and my dad’s side of the family are complicated – to put it mildly. But we reached out to each other, met up a few times over beers and found that we actually had quite a lot in common from the music we listened to and the movies we enjoyed. We went to the cinema together and watched Joker and Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.
We also bonded over a shared love of Stephen King. As I seemed to enjoy horror, Rob asked me if I’d ever read any Richard Laymon. I admitted that the name wasn’t familiar to me. He told me that Laymon was a horror author in a similar vein to King but had never really been as famous. Rob told me that his cousin’s wife (on the other side of the family) had been a Laymon fan. Sadly, cancer took her too soon. As a tribute to her, Rob had taken it upon himself to read everything Laymon ever published, “Because she never will.”
The next time we met up, Rob lent me his copy of Island. I started reading it and absolutely devoured it. I found myself reading late into the night because many of the chapters ended on cliff-hangers, and I just had to know what happened next. Then I finished it, and I had that hollow feeling that often comes after enjoying a book. And it meant the next time Rob and I met up, we were able to chat about this book. He was surprised how quickly I’d finished it and thrilled that I’d enjoyed it as much as he had. Recommending authors isn’t something to be done lightly. There’s nothing worse than the embarrassment of recommending a book to someone and them not liking it.
Following this, I’ve had another author to add to my list of favourites and have since collected more than a dozen of Laymon’s works. In a cruel twist of fate, Rob passed away in 2023. Similar to his cousin’s wife, he never managed to read everything Laymon published. I have since taken it upon myself to try and read everything Laymon published in tribute to Rob. I love you, cuz. This one’s for you.
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Island tells the story of Rupert, a young adult who is on holiday with his girlfriend, Connie, and her family. There are six of them on a yacht chartered around the Bahamas. The yacht explodes in the very first sentence, leaving the six of them stranded on an island where their only chance of survival is finding a way to fend for themselves. As if that didn’t sound hellish enough, it would seem that they are not alone on this island. It would appear that there is an axe-wielding maniac out there who is prepared to pick them all off one by one.
The entire novel is presented as Rupert’s journal. He even states that he doesn’t even know why he’s writing it, but it just felt like something to do. But then he finds himself getting into it and feels compelled to finish it as the story unfolds. When describing the other characters in the book, he is honest about them (arguably to a fault) when he says what he really thinks about them. Especially the female characters.
The journal style has many advantages when it comes to this sort of book, and I think Laymon has utilised the style perfectly. First of all, there are many instances throughout where we get the impression he might not be the most reliable of narrators. There are certain things he might be hiding from the reader, even if we are immediately aware of his fatal flaw. But it is that same fatal flaw that leads to the ending. Which, for me, is one of the greatest endings of any book I’ve ever read.
I’ve already read this book a couple of times. And I’m sure I’ll reread it many times yet before my life is over.
My Goodreads rating: ★★★★★ (5 stars)
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