I love Robert Westall.

I don't see him talked about very much. His stories are none of them especially groundbreaking, but they embody a kind of cozy horror that I absolutely love, and their approach to the supernatural is nearly pitch perfect for my tastes. One of these days I'll write up a longer post on Westall, but for now I'll let it suffice that The Stones of Muncaster Cathedral is a damned good example of why I love him so much.

It's a quick, brief novella, written in the blue-collar voice of a lot of Westall's work. The story concerns a steeplejack who gets a job fixing up a cursed tower on the titular cathedral. The reveals of the supernatural elements aren't necessarily original, but they are perfect, blending exactly the right amount of inexplicable and grotesque.