Meh.
As a photography nut, I was hoping to get some kind of inside look into the technicalities and methods of early 20th century photography, but no. The main character is supposed to be a professional photographer, but it's all tell, don't show (literally. The author, who probably is just as clueless about vintage photography as me, simply takes the "But I won't bore you with the details" route, which I find tremendously lazy and borderline insulting)... which incidentally applies to the rest of the book as well. The protagonist is just bland and featureless, as is the village itself -- no sense of atmosphere whatsoever. The villagers came across as your stock 60's horror movie personnel -- garish, clichéd and unconvincing, without any depth whatsoever.
I got very sick very quickly of the constant, über-heavy-handed foreboding the author employs; every couple of pages it's paragraphs of "if only I had known then", "when I look back upon this now, I can't believe (whatever)", "during my long sleepless nights", on and on with the relentless oh-poor-me-histrionics, but for me it all just rang hollow. It's never scary, it just *claims* to be; the protagonist keeps telling us how very, very frightened he is at various points in the story, like some literary game of Chinese whispers, but, well, I simply wasn't feeling it.
Stylistically it read like a debut novel as well; lots of redundant phrasing and repetitions, as when the protag goes on and on (AND ON) about his frickin' fever -- YES WE GET IT, YOU FEEL SICK! You felt sick two chapters ago, you felt sick two pages ago, you happened to mention that you still feel feverish *two bloody sentences* ago, WE REALLY REALLY GET IT, THANK YOU! If you happen to be a reader with the attention span of a goldfish, then this book is for you.