A classic recommended to me by the library (possibly because I recently read Dracula, which feels a bit like this), this book feels like it's either missing something or has a bit too much of something. It could have been a compelling short story, but as a short novel, it winds up being more than a little redundant, with the same things recurring again and again without much new insight. There are some really beautiful, chilling passages here, and a solid cosmic-horror feel of something being irredeemably terrifying just below the surface of the world, but not enough connection between that horror and any sort of philosophy or reality of existence to really land.