I actually finished Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House last night and figured I would think about it and write something this morning, but I couldn’t think of anything intelligent or amusing, so I left it for tonight. I still don’t really have anything to say. It was a very fast read. I don’t think it’s as good as We Have Always Lived in the Castle. If I were staying in a big old house and those things happened, I’d be scared to death, but they wouldn’t. I think I’m non-plussed. I think I prefer my ghosts to have more solid identities and desires. A clear agenda. Or one that becomes clear with time. I was amused when Mrs. Montague showed up with her planchette. I don’t get why when they found the creepy book in the library nobody talked about the fact it was apparently only addressed to one of the daughters. Which daughter was it? And why set up a ghost that stole things that then proceeds not to? It was just so inconsistent. Which I suppose an insane house would be. But still.