Witchby Barbara Michaels
Blurb:
A silent stranger moves in twilight shadows...
It was more than her dream house. For Ellen March, buying the secluded old house nestled in the pine woods marked the start of a new life. Now she could put her failed marriage behind her, enjoy the quiet solitude of small town life, and get to know her worldly new neighbor, handsome Norman McKay...
But strange visions began to cloud her mind-- the shadowy figure of a woman, a ghostly white cat-- and Ellen's safe haven slowly became her prison. Had she buried the past? Or had a dark legend come back to haunt her...?
My Reaction:I have vague memories of actually enjoying some of Barbara Michaels' "gothic" thrillers, but apparently I either happened to read the better ones first or my tastes have changed. Either way, this was yet another dud.
I had relatively high hopes for this one, as I'm always a sucker for a nice tale about a gently haunted house. When executed with skill, descriptions of house-buying, redecorating, and general "doing-up" are like catnip to me, too. (Living vicariously, I guess! So much easier on the back and the pocketbook to read about fictional characters' home improvements rather than carrying out some of your own!) Unfortunately, the fixing up of the house is glossed over to make way for more boring topics, and the ghostly subject matter is exceptionally weak.
Yes, it's dated (the descriptions of what the "adolescents" are wearing!), but that can be charming and nostalgic. Less charming is the stupidity and offensiveness of the main character. I just didn't really care what happened to her, to be honest. The overall impression is one of BLAH.
Observations, Reactions, and Nitpicks (with unmarked SPOILERS):
-- What a strange coincidence that this and the last book I read on my own (which means "not including the 372-Pages selections I read with Donald") should both include characters with ailurophobia (fear of cats)! I don't know if I've ever encountered a reference to this before, which makes it seem even odder.
-- Ellen is thirty-eight. I realize that 38 isn't young, and that a 38-year-old in 1973 (this novel's year of publication) likely seemed older than a 38-year-old in 2019, but still... Seeing how her age was presented in the beginning of the book made me feel old! Not flattering to read at forty! To be fair, she doesn't act like an old lady, at least. (Maybe I'm just being sensitive.)
-- "It was not only her appearance that the older, country-bred woman unconsciously resented; it was her urban background, her accent, her clothes, her manner." Here, have an eye-roll. Yes, everyone who's "country-bred" is unconsciously jealous of people with an "urban background".
-- "Later, Penny had tried to get her to experiment with makeup and wigs, but by then Ellen had lost interest." I can't imagine choosing to wear a wig if I had a perfectly good head of hair underneath. It's another thing that dates the book.
-- "On the whole the reflected image pleased her. It was a bit sedate, but not bad for a woman who was slipping downhill toward forty." ...Nope, I wasn't being too sensitive before. She also refers to herself as "a silly old lady" later on in the book.
-- Not only are the adolescents in this book mostly described as all having shaggy hair and dressing like hobos, they sound absolutely filthy: "The bare feet were in vogue, too, but Tim's feet were black with mud; a trail of dirty prints marred the shining hall floor behind the boy." ... "Tim's bare feet had left a trail of dust this time." Yuck! Teens in the 70s were downright nasty, apparently.
-- "Ellen was surprised when Norman went on talking, despite the cook's presence." ...Not the done thing, I guess? It amuses me.
-- Ellen asks, "Do I strike everyone as a feeble-minded female?" ...Weeeeeell... Don't ask a question if you don't want the answer!
-- The author strikes me as someone who probably thought pretty highly of herself-- her intelligence, education, breeding, manners, etc. I'm sure she felt that she had an impressive degree of "social consciousness". And yet... Some of the opinions she puts into the mouths and minds of her heroes and heroines are definitely not "correct", by current social barometers! Based on these characters, she seems to have had a particular antipathy toward people who were not thin.
-- Ellen is more than a little catty about the other people in town. Some of these characters turn out to be the "villains", but others are just unattractive or not dressed to impress:
"She was simply a very large woman, tall and big-boned, with the massiveness that overtakes such women later in life unless they diet strenuously. Mrs. Grapow's long-sleeved dark print dress and gray hair compressed into a bun made it clear that she would view dieting as tampering with the will of the Lord." ... "That beefy, stupid-looking--..."
"She was a faded blonde of approximately Ellen's age, although her lack of makeup and her shapeless cotton print dress made her look older."
-- Guffaw moment: Mrs. Grapow calls Ellen "Miz March". "After a moment Ellen realized she was being addressed in dialect, not in the latest mode advocated by women's liberation." Ew, dialect is so icky. (Care for another eye-roll?)
-- "Ellen was more amused than offended by the unsubtle tactics of the questioners. Poor souls, she thought tolerantly, they haven't much to talk about. She fancied, however, that meaningful glances were exchanged when she admitted to being divorced." No, Ellen's not judgmental at all. Not like those poor hicks.
-- When a character isn't nice, it's fun to make him/her as physically repellent as possible. Take Bob Muller, for instance. He has acne and tries to hide it by growing a beard, but his beard is "too sparse to hide anything, including Bob's negligible chin and obtrusive upper lip".
Bob Muller's sister Prudence gets even tougher treatment: "She was pathetically plain, except for big blue eyes that had an unfocused look, and she wore a frilly blouse and full skirt that made her heavy hips look even wider." ... "The girl was so hopelessly unattractive. The sight of her made Ellen's maternal instincts itch; if Prudence had been her daughter she would have prescribed a dermatologist, a diet, and some decent clothes, just as a start. Penny had never looked that bad, even in the worst stages of puppy fat and pimples. Prudence was a hopeless case; her personality was as limp as her stringy hair." "...Prudence needed more than a psychological boost. She needed a whole battery of experts working full time."
Bob and Prudence's father is a horrible man-- an abusive drunkard-- but her descriptions of him are distasteful, too. "...she had recognized the gross, fat body..." ... "He was a revolting spectacle with his greasy, unshaven face and his fat belly wobbling above his belt."
-- I'm sorry, but I simply don't believe that a group of teens (whose only similarity is that they all live in the same small community) would all instantly take to someone like Ellen (who is the ripe old age of 38, remember!), as happens in this book. It seems remarkably unlikely.
-- "The Earthly Church of the Wrath of God". ...Oh, come on. You have to be kidding! (But she's not!!) And of course the church is absolutely insane and evil-- one of the most insulting, ridiculous depictions of religion I've come across-- led by a preacher she compares to Hitler himself. (Well, she claims she won't flatter him with that comparison, but it's too late for that, because she's pretty much already made it!)
-- Ellen goes shopping and buys a "pale-pink chiffon 'at-home' gown" (whatever the heck that is). "It would be totally out of place in her Early American living room..." ...Um, excuse me? What? Does anyone actually dress to match their home's style/period/decor? What an utterly bizarre thing to think about, much less write!
-- Jack (Ellen's brother-in-law and love interest) comes to visit Ellen and her daughter (Penny) after a while: "He embraced both of them and made sarcastic comments about the effect of country living on their figures." ...Huh? Weird thing to joke about, honestly. Seriously, I begin to wonder if the author might've been a bit obsessed with dieting and weight control. Either that or she believed that her readership enjoyed thinking about dieting even while indulging in escapist literature.
-- Ellen tells herself that even if Tim and 16-year-old Penny are in a relationship, it's okay. "Tim wasn't the friend she would have chosen for her daughter, but Penny was sound. She had probably dated boys who had equally serious problems. God knows there were plenty of them these days."
Now, keep in mind that at this point in the book, Ellen believes that Tim has severe emotional and/or psychological problems that have led him to torture and kill multiple animals, including neighborhood pets. I mean... really? Maybe it wasn't widely known at that time that animal torture is a behavior common to young men who go on to become serial killers, but obviously anyone would recognize it as a giant red flag in flames (with a blaring alarm off to one side)-- and yet she's okay with her daughter dating this guy? And she assumes that Penny has dated boys with equally serious problems?! Good grief! Washington, D.C., in the 1970s must've been a heck of a place!
-- After Ellen catches a drunk Muller shooting a gun on her property, she disarms him, then wonders what to do with the gun: "She didn't want to take it home with her; Muller might be inspired to come looking for it, since it was obviously dear to him. A sex symbol, no doubt. He was probably impotent without his gun." Ha ha, how clever and funny. But also, it is his property, so of course he's going to want it back! You could tell him you were taking it to the police station for safe keeping, and he could get it back from them-- but obviously you can't confiscate someone's property and expect that they'll just go, "Oh well, c'est la vie!" and accept that they aren't getting it back. (Besides, guns aren't that cheap!)
-- Ellen invites a couple and their teenage son to dine at her home, but she seems to hate them and dread their visit. Why did she invite them, then?! She also invites Norman and warns him that the other guests are not "brilliant conversationalists". "The Randolphs were not only boring, they were a pain in the neck." Good grief, woman! No-one forced you to invite them! Could you be any more annoying?! Ah, and the icing on the cake-- they're fat! "Like his parents, Morrie was overweight and puffy from lack of exercise. He had fat, clumsy hands..." ... "The Randolphs' idea of exercise consisted of a gentle stroll around the yard. They refused to enter the woods." How dare they?!
-- Tim sounds so, so stupid sometimes, when he speaks: "'He was, like, you know, kind of dumb with kids. Like ho ho ho, if you know what I mean.'" ...Actually, I really don't know what you mean. False/forced joviality?
-- Eesh, this one's harsh... Penny's just as sweet and caring as her dear old mum! Talking about how it was actually Norman instead of Tim who assaulted Prudence: "'Just look at the probabilities, Mom. Look at Tim! Do you think that flabby female would have escaped with a few cuts and bruises if Tim had really wanted--' She glanced at Tim, who was beet-red, and took pity on him. 'He has better taste,' she concluded."
-- Then there's the mob of townspeople who descend upon Ellen's house. Some of them are literally carrying torches. It's painfully ridiculous. That whole section-- and the thing with the magical ghost cat/witch/familiar-- meh.
-- "Ellen turned as Jack came in. His chin was covered with a hideous salt-and-pepper stubble..." Ha, how the times have changed! These days, a little stubble is often considered attractive on a man-- certainly not "hideous"!
-- Everything's wrapping up, and Ellen declares her intention to stay in the house. I guess that's fine, but it seems like it will be just the teeniest bit awkward around town, for a while. Even if the worst offenders have been arrested, they'll have family and friends still living in town-- and at least some of those people who came to her house with torches are going to be her neighbors. It's not the kind of situation I'd want for myself!
-- Ellen asks Jack, "How did you happen to arrive at the last minute, like the deus ex machina in the play?" Well, at least she's kinda-sorta admitting to the laziness of the writing, I guess.
-- I resent this book's audacity in stealing the "disembodied voice of the beloved calling across the distance" from Jane Eyre. Maybe Jane Eyre wasn't its origin, either, but JE is just such a classic, whereas this is... decidedly not.
-- The so-called romance in this novel is so unromantic. I'll admit that it was going to be a mighty tough sell, in my case, because I don't particularly like the idea of a romance between a woman and her dead sister's husband. (Sorry, but it's off-putting!) If it had been handled skillfully, however, I could have come around to the idea. As it is, it's clear from the very beginning that Ellen loves Jack and that the two will be together by the end of the book, but we really don't get much of the two of them interacting or even a satisfying explanation of why they're in love. Evidently it just sort of "happens" when you live in the same house, raising kids together. Telling us that Ellen loves him despite the fact that he's balding (but not a bit paunchy, of course-- perish the thought!) just wasn't enough for me.
-- For a book titled Witch, there was precious little witch in it! The shadowy figure Ellen sees from the corner of her eye is creepy, and there were one or two little things that I thought were hints to some bigger, more mysterious history between Ellen's witch and Norman's family, but the latter never pans out, and the former is only barely mentioned at the end of the book. All in all, this novel is a let-down on the paranormal front.
The house still seems creepy to me, though, especially with the shadow woman hanging out (pun intended) in the bedroom! I wouldn't want to live there, even after Ellen's Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.
