I read this after listening to a review on Radio 5. The reviewers indicated the novella was heart-stoppingly chilling and a good old fashioned ghost story. I love a good ghost story; so much more chilling than the gore of today that occupies the horror genre.
The book is well written and would benefit from being read on a misty winter or autumn evening in front of a roaring fire, with the house to yourself, the phone turned off and the gurantee of no disturbances.
I read it in an hour, so it kept my attention, always a good sign.
It loses stars for me as it had zero chill factor; never once did I look over my shoulder; never once has it kept me awake, not once have I thought about the content of the novella since.
It should pull on everyones fears... the eyes in certain pictures that appear to follow you round the room, but it failed for me to connect. I came away from this thinking that Hill could write better, so today I have started reading the Women in Black to see if that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Worth a read, but really not spine tingling.