Shock horror: I don’t think you can review this book by simply saying “I loved it / I hated it” and yes, there are certainly things that are more wrong with it than right about it: like anything that stands the test of time as well as this classic 1954 novel, it’s far more complicated than all that. A small novel that has now achieved legendary status, I find myself wondering how the book would do if it was submitted for publication now by another author.

Don’t get me wrong: I did, and have always, love this book. I found it fascinating as a child and just as interesting as an adult. But one can’t help but notice that all the hype surrounding it has tainted its charm over the years, perhaps. Maybe it’s just me – and this is a very personal review – but I don’t think the language in the book is exactly easy to read or simple to digest. But then, some would say that the ambiguous nature of some of the text is precisely what makes the book appealing to so many: like any good piece of art, it can be interpreted a number of ways, making it compelling to so many people.

One thing that the book does amazingly well is create the sensation of dread lurking around every corner, with no hope of help or first aid supplies. With every turn of the page, you can never be sure of what lies in wait. This is probably its most magical characteristic, if you ask me: even though I have read it a handful of times I can’t help but think that the next time I read it, I might find something out that I don’t want to hear…