I have no interest in living in a haunted house.

I knew that before reading David Mitchell’s “Slade House,” but now I’m more sure of my stance on the issue.

My initial impression of this book is that I would not particularly enjoy it.  I blame the British kid who narrates the start in a bit of a scatterbrained fashion.

But fortunately the story unfolds over many decades, and in each section acquires a new narrator, each better than the last.

Chalk it up to being super late in writing about this book and reading a good chunk of it while at the pool, but I didn’t make any notes.

I can say it is an interesting mystery trying to piece together what is going on at Slade House and whether the new narrator is going to be successful in battling the spirits within.

Whatever you do though, don’t welcome them into your own home.  Unless you are cool with having your soul sucked out through your face and stuff.