I'd actually more or less given up on horror novels as a genre. While there are a few contemporary horror writers that I enjoy, I have given up the steady diet of supermarket horror that I read as a teenager. However, I made an exception in this case and actually ordered the Langan book from Amazon. This is largely because a great many of those "few contemporary horror writers" who I still read published hugely glowing blurbs about The Keeper. Peter Straub credited her with combining a "genuinely poetic sensibility" and a "taste for horror's most bravura excesses". Ramsey Campbell praised the quality of the prose. With chops like these, it almost seemed as though I had to love the book.
Probably unsurprisingly, I didn't love it. I didn't hate it either. Honestly, if I *had* just picked it up at the supermarket somewhere in upstate NY then I probably would have actually been quite pleasantly surprised. Langan isn't at all a bad writer, and seems to have a dab hand at the kind of real little details that generally work very well in horror and supernatural fiction. Liz was often very likable, and I could easily visualize her in her surroundings.
The problem was that even though she got the verisimilitude right, Langan somehow didn't succeed in making me care about the characters. I suspect that she tried to draw the story too widely. I needed to care about the town as much as I cared about the main characters. And that never came together. She might have done better to make it a claustrophobic family story. I suspect that by narrowing the focus, Susan may have been more genuinely frightening. The wider scope on the whole town meant that Langan resorted to pretty typical horror tricks-- vicious dogs, giant spiders, yadda yadda. It kind of felt like pastiche, and the rest of the work didn't really deserve pastiche.
All this said, The Keeper is a first novel. And it probably even counts as a first novel with a fair degree of promise. There's enough in here for me to want to keep an eye on her work and see where she goes.