Merricat lives in a big house on the edge of an unnamed town with her sister Constance and her Uncle Julian.
They're not well liked by the townsfolk since Constance was cleared of poisoning the rest of the family several years before the events of this book. Uncle Julian spends his time writing the events of that fateful night. Constance finds solace in cooking while Merricat performs her strange little rituals to keep the family safe and contained.
When Uncle Charles arrives at the house, the balance Merricat needs is disturbed.
This book features probably Jackson's greatest opening paragraph, even beating Hill House in my opinion.
Merricat is a wonderfully deranged and distinctly unreliable narrator. How much of the villager's hate is real and how much is her paranoia? Later events may well show that she wasn't paranoid (that and the rhymes the village children sing at her as she passes...
It's written in Jackson's typically dense style, so fans of more visceral horror will probably not get much from this book. Personally though I love the slow psychological build up and the sense of wondering what exactly is going on.
It's low on incident in the first half of the book, but it build the characters so beautifully that I was never bored.
I think this is up there with Hill House as Jackson's finest work.
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