Darcy Coates has long established herself as a master of gothic horror and supernatural thrillers, but How Bad Things Can Get steers her work into a sharper, more visceral territory. Set on a seemingly idyllic tropical island, this novel fuses the lure of a beach-paradise escape with the creeping dread of isolation, cult legacies, and survival horror. It’s a work that questions how far the past can reach into the present, and whether some places—and some histories—are too poisoned to escape.
This review takes a deep dive into the novel’s strengths and shortcomings, exploring its characters, themes, and execution, and situates it within both Coates’s own bibliography and the broader genre of thriller-horror fiction.
The Premise: Paradise with a Past
At first glance, Prosperity Island is a dream destination: white sand beaches, lush greenery, and a celebratory event designed for fans of a charismatic influencer. But Coates quickly strips away the illusion. Behind the carnival atmosphere of drinking games and bonfires is an island scarred by a blood-soaked history.
The story follows Ruth, the sole survivor of a notorious cult massacre, who has lived for decades under the heavy burden of secrecy. She arrives on the island seeking anonymity, but fate has other plans. The island’s disturbing history entwines with her own, and as revelry curdles into terror, Ruth must confront both her trauma and a new cycle of violence.
Coates wastes little time before weaving dread into the narrative. The setup—a hedonistic retreat that spirals into chaos—recalls real-world stories of failed utopian experiments and survival horror classics. It is both eerily plausible and steeped in folkloric menace.
Characters and Psychological Depth
At the heart of How Bad Things Can Get is Ruth, a character who embodies both fragility and resilience. Unlike many thriller protagonists, she is not a detective, a warrior, or an adrenaline-hardened survivor. She is, instead, an ordinary woman whose life has been overshadowed by one extraordinary—and devastating—event.
Ruth’s psychology is one of the novel’s strongest elements. Coates portrays trauma not as a single scar but as a constellation of fears, defense mechanisms, and deeply ingrained habits. Her desire for invisibility, her mistrust of joy, and her instinct to flee rather than fight all feel real and earned. When the island begins to devour its guests, Ruth’s survival instinct becomes a crucible: will she forever run, or can she finally confront the ghosts of her past?
Supporting characters range from the archetypal (the flamboyant influencer host, the thrill-seeking fans) to the surprisingly nuanced. Coates is careful not to let her ensemble dissolve into mere victims-in-waiting; instead, she sketches out just enough humanity to make each disappearance sting. The dynamic between characters—suspicion, fleeting alliances, betrayal—adds fuel to the novel’s claustrophobic tension.
Themes: Cults, Influence, and the Seduction of Power
Beneath its surface thrills, this is a novel obsessed with cycles of control and destruction. The shadow of Ruth’s childhood cult lingers over the island, creating a thematic bridge between old fanaticism and new-age influencer culture.
Key thematic threads include:
- The Persistence of Trauma – Ruth’s journey is not just about survival on the island but about whether one can ever truly escape the psychological prison of the past.
- Charisma and Influence – The influencer’s ability to gather hundreds of fans to a remote location echoes the manipulative powers of cult leaders. Coates subtly critiques the modern hunger for belonging and spectacle.
- The Illusion of Paradise – The tropical setting is itself a metaphor: beauty masking rot, freedom masking captivity. The island becomes a mirror for both Ruth’s buried fears and humanity’s tendency to repeat its darkest patterns.
This blending of ancient horror (cults, blood sacrifice, haunted places) with contemporary anxieties (digital influence, performative community) is what makes the novel feel fresh despite familiar horror beats.
Pacing, Structure, and Atmosphere
Coates’s prose has always favored atmosphere, and here she excels. The island is described with a duality that never lets the reader settle: lush beauty on one page, suffocating menace on the next. The bonfire’s light becomes a cruel divider between fleeting safety and lurking shadows.
The pacing follows a deliberate arc:
- The opening act establishes the false paradise, filled with parties and bravado.
- The middle act escalates with disappearances, paranoia, and the revelation of the island’s history.
- The final act delivers the survival-horror intensity, with Ruth forced to make irreversible choices.
If there is a critique, it lies in the predictability of certain beats. Readers familiar with survival-horror narratives may see the trajectory of the story well before it unfolds. While Coates’s execution is skillful, some twists lack the shock value they aim for. Still, the novel thrives on atmosphere and character psychology rather than cheap jump scares.
Strengths of the Novel
- Atmosphere that suffocates and seduces at once. The island setting is so well-realized it becomes a character in itself.
- Ruth’s psychological portrait. Rarely in horror do we see trauma written with such authenticity.
- Thematic resonance. The parallels between cult fanaticism and influencer culture feel timely and unsettling.
- Balanced tension. Coates avoids gratuitous gore, opting instead for suspense, dread, and the human cost of violence.
Areas Where It Stumbles
- Predictable arcs. While beautifully written, the story sometimes treads familiar ground, and seasoned thriller readers may anticipate major developments.
- Secondary characters as fodder. Despite initial care, some supporting figures slip into archetypes, their fates more functional than impactful.
- The climax. Though tense, it resolves slightly too neatly, leaving less room for lingering ambiguity than Coates’s strongest works.
Coates in Context: Comparing Her Works
Darcy Coates is best known for her haunted-house novels (The Haunting of Ashburn House, Carrow Haunt, The Haunting of Blackwood House) where spectral menace drives the narrative. How Bad Things Can Get departs from the supernatural, plunging instead into the realm of psychological and survival horror.
Readers who admired the human vulnerability at the heart of The Haunting of Ashburn House will find similar emotional grounding here, though stripped of ghosts. In some ways, this book feels like Coates’s answer to contemporary survival thrillers such as Paul Tremblay’s The Cabin at the End of the World or Alex Michaelides’s The Fury. It is less about haunted spaces and more about haunted psyches.
Who Will Enjoy This Book?
How Bad Things Can Get is best suited for readers who:
- Enjoy survival horror with a psychological core.
- Appreciate atmosphere and dread over gore or shock.
- Are intrigued by cult narratives and their lingering aftershocks.
- Have read Coates’s earlier works and are curious to see her expand beyond ghost stories.
It may not satisfy those looking for relentless action or unpredictable twists, but it will resonate with readers who prefer horror that lingers in the mind rather than bludgeons the senses.
Similar Books to Consider
If you enjoyed How Bad Things Can Get, you might also like:
- Paul Tremblay – The Cabin at the End of the World: A cabin-in-the-woods horror that also examines belief, control, and survival.
- Riley Sager – Survive the Night: Fast-paced survival with claustrophobic settings and flawed protagonists.
- Alex Michaelides – The Fury: A thriller set on a Greek island that blends glamour with menace.
- Ania Ahlborn – Brother: A brutal but powerful exploration of cult-like family control.
- Darcy Coates – Carrow Haunt: For those who want to return to Coates’s supernatural side, equally atmospheric and eerie.
Final Thoughts
How Bad Things Can Get is a gripping, atmospheric, and psychologically nuanced novel that proves Darcy Coates is unafraid to step beyond her haunted mansions and ghostly corridors. By situating horror in a tropical paradise and tying it to the scars of cult trauma, she delivers a story that is both entertaining and thought-provoking.
It is not without its flaws—predictability and some thinly drawn side characters hold it back from transcending the genre—but its strengths far outweigh its missteps. What lingers after the final page is not just the terror of the island, but the haunting question of how much of our past we can ever truly escape.
For fans of survival thrillers and psychological horror, this novel is well worth the journey into darkness.
