I'm not familiar with his more recent output but back in his early works, Masterton apparently couldn't write convincing women. They seemingly existed only to be vague stereotypes or to be victimised in order to spur on the protagonist. Or, in the case of this book, both.On the whole though, the rest is typically early Masterton: quick paced, monumentally silly and entertaining in a thoroughly guilty manner. The only real break from the formula are the Lovecraftian references towards the end ("Ka-tua-la-hu!") which are an amusing touch if you're so inclined.