The Time of the Ghost (1981)

It's quite strange reading this after reading the Reflections collection, knowing how autobiographical this happens to be. And how things that really happened to Diana Wynne Jones had to be toned down to be at all believable in the story. Of course, it still has that expansive, slightly breakneck pace of most of Jones' work -- there's something a little, well, mad about it. Colourful. I don't know how to describe it -- it's a swirl of colours and impressions. A child's imagination.

I read this all in one go; the biggest hook is the confused narrator, the way you can't quite get things straight. The plot itself -- I don't know, I wasn't so keen on the whole Monigan thing. (Intentional closeness to Morrigan?) I suppose that's my adult way of demanding explanations, though: as a child I'd probably just have accepted that an evil goddess clung to the land and somehow possessed a doll.

(The last bit of this review is a reaction to Diana Wynne Jones' thoughts on the differences between writing for children and writing for adults. Children, she found, make the connections much more readily and instinctively than adults. She had to do more explanation when she wrote for adults.) ( )

I think this may actually be the strangest DWJ book I have read. The whole thing feels like a long weird dream. It took me several days and perhaps fifty pages to really get into the book, although I found it fairly satisfying by the end. I think many of the elements are executed more successfully in her later books.

On one hand it doesn't help that my copy's tagline gave away the second half of the book, but then again I might have been further discouraged without this spoiler helping me to believe that eventually the plot would make sense. :)

I did appreciate many of the small details, particularly the Monty Python shoutout. ( )

One of DWJ’s darkest books; its portrait of parents so neglectful as to constitute actual abuse is more frightening than the malevolent spirit that manifests itself.

A ghost finds herself in what she knows was her childhood home, amongst three of her sisters. She knows she’s one of the siblings, but has no idea which one. All she knows is that there’s been an accident, something terrible has happened, and, if she only knew how, she could stop it from happening. But there has to be a sacrifice …

Not at all an easy or a comfortable read, but – fantasy elements aside – painfully true to life: the four sisters come across as real people. So, unfortunately, do their parents. ( )

This is certainly the darkest thing that Diana Wynne Jones has written. Having read her autobiography, this story is all the more disturbing. ( )

Enjoyed the writer, did not care for the story. ( )