Furniture appears to move of its own volition and very much against the wishes of the householders. As well as dwindling fortunes, madness and tragedy, the Ayres family seem beset by all manner of things that go bump in the night. In fact, there are many events that the rarely restrained Du Maurier might consider over the top. Daphne du Maurier was the first comparable writer who sprang to mind as I read Waters' story of an old family on its last legs, rattling around in an old mansion (the Hundreds Hall) in which they go steadily more potty. Superficially, this complaint seems odd for what is essentially a gothic haunted house mystery. The problem, as my better half put it, is that The Little Stranger is just "too measured and controlled". The consensus seems to be that it isn't half as much fun as the author's earlier forays into lesbian historical fiction, half as impressive as The Night Watch, or even approaching them in passion, energy and gusto. When I've said yes, they've looked more worried still and begged me not to take it as representative, not to be "put off". Whenever I have told a Sarah Waters fan that I've been reading the book, they've all peered at me anxiously and asked if it was the first of her novels that I'd read. For a well-received, Booker short-listed novel, The Little Stranger seems curiously unpopular with those who might be expected to like it most.
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