THE HAUNT

Even though some of this dryly amusing tale takes place in Mellilot, the great house that stands in for Manderley, Barker (Femina Real, not reviewed, etc.) forgoes spooky ghosts in favor of a tale about Bellechasse, a déclassé hotel on the Cornish coast.

A runner-up for the Booker Prize, Barker, still writing in her 80’s, has been widely praised by British reviewers. And she certainly has style: “She wore a black dress with chunky gold jewellery at neck and wrist.” As Mr. Eashing, a wheelchair-bound antiquarian, sharply tells Bettony, his retarded companion and chair-pusher: “Getting old is a nasty business. There’s nothing to commend it, certainly not the illusion of learning. I have spent a lifetime familiarizing myself with one small sphere and I am constantly disconcerted and mystified by my own ignorance. The acquisition of knowledge is illusory. . . . Don’t be deceived by talk of tranquil old age: one is not cured of strong emotions. The most ignoble remain.” Barker’s not much at creating suspense, but she has a winning way with amusing dialogue, quirky characters, and here and there the odd twist in her several entwined but separate stories. The liveliest of these involve adultery and stolen kisses. The lead-in one is scarcely less successful: A down-at-heels painter gives an oversized nude of his divorced wife back to her; though she’s remarried, she may just give her body back to him.

Grand Hotel this is not, although Barker is infinitely wittier than Vicki Baum. A special taste for Americans who smoke Players and eat kippers for breakfast, but not for the usual gobblers of ghosts and ghouls.