Short suspenseful read containing lots of foreshadow and themes. Does contain a fair bit of violence. Recommended for those who are into short suspenseful stories that do not contain a lot of action. Medium read. ( )

Shirley Jackson’s short stories are impeccably crafted and memorable, but very unsettling and depressing. I am really wanting escapist reading during the current stressful time at work and in no mood to be reminded that the true monsters are everyday human beings. Thus the undoubted readability of the stories did not encourage me to read them faster. Had I been in a more suitable frame of mind, I would probably award five stars. I was especially impressed that the collection began on such a strong note, with a teenage girl freaking out a drunk man via ominous prognostications:

He said quickly, “What are you saying about the future of the world?”
“I don’t really think it’s got much future,” she said, “at least the way we’ve got it now.”
“It’s an interesting time to be alive,” he said, as though he were still at the party.
“Well, after all,” she said, “It isn’t as though we didn’t know about it in advance.”

Most of the stories concern sad, lonely people who experience ostensibly minor yet utterly devastating disasters. A couple of stories are only gently unsettling, but several can and will haunt you. Notably ‘The Renegade’, which makes insular rural life seem absolutely terrifying, and ‘Flower Garden’, which slowly but surely lays bare poisonously genteel American racism. ‘The Tooth’ is perhaps the most visceral, dealing with the breakdown of a woman’s identity under the influence of dental anaesthesia. As ‘The Lottery’ is the most famous in the book, it’s the story I was most prepared for and found nothing unexpected in.

I must commend Jackson’s evenhandedness. She demonstrates that wherever you might be: in the city, small town, or countryside; in a suburban house, tenement block, or little cottage, you cannot escape the unpleasantness of fellow human beings. The genius of Jackson’s horror is its subtlety. No-one is threatened with murder, but the protagonist of nearly every story has their spirit crushed by realisations: that their neighbours are unbearable, their husbands appalling, their children terrible, and their lives empty of joy. As I said, the absolute opposite of escapism and a further reminder that I never want to go to America. I can’t help feeling that a British collection of such tales would slide into black humour, much like [a:Saki|6076026|Saki|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1366003885p2/6076026.jpg]'s arch vignettes. Brilliantly written as they were, I did not find these stories funny at all. ( )

I can't help but imagine this spine-tingling Shirley Jackson collection like a series of episodes from the original Twilight Zone, with a grainy, black-and-white presentation, an ordinary John/Jane Doe with strange psychic abilities, Rod Sterling's quirky narration, and Bernard Hermann tick-tocking in the background (just give it a try, and you'll see what I mean). Also like the Twilight Zone, Jackson likes to give us little tidbits of oddball comedy that offset the more sinister tales, which may be received in poor taste, but for me, this just magnifies the whole and integrates everything together, where Jackson is able to brandish her own unique and weird imagination. ( )

Incredible all the way through. Shirley Jackson is described, both generally and in the blurbs on the book, as a master of early horror, and that's true in a sense. But Jackson's horror isn't Lovecraftian, nor Kingian - Shirley Jackson writes a simpler, more mundane horror. She imagines a world where all of your nagging, anxious thoughts are true: your neighbors do hate you behind your back, being fired from your job was personal, and nothing can be relied on in a world that will smile to your face but scowl and forget you when you turn away. ( )

With a touch of the darkness in the stories of Flannery O'Connor, these stories leave you thinking you've just been to the Twilight Zone. ( )