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214 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1976
The house at 142 Trinity Road was unlit, every street-overlooking window a glaze of blackness between dim drifts of curtain. The curtains on the top floor shimmered whitely like the lacy ball gowns of women who wait in vain to be asked to dance. Inside the house there was total, breathless silence. Arthur, leaning against the banisters, his hot forehead against cold smooth wood, thought he had never known it so silent - no tap of heels, no soft giggles, mutter of words, whistle of kettles, trickle of water, throb of heaters, thud of door, heartbeat of life.Previous to this, the only books I've read by Ruth Rendell are from her Inspector Wexford series. Those are good police procedurals. I did not know she could write this way. There is no way I could take a steady diet of her non-series titles if they are all this dark. I have two others on hand and will - eventually - look for a way to incorporate them into my quarterly lists. I am impressed, though not quite 5-stars impressed.