The Haunted Hotel by Wilkie Collins

I shamelessly love trashy Victorian sensation novels, and Collins is definitely the master (and actually originator) of them. The Woman in White had me fixated, unable to put it down, I actually remember walking to work from the bus with my head stuck into it, swerving around people. The Moonstone, a detective novel with a distinct sense of humour, was both engaging and satisfyingly (and pretty well-written). So I had really high expectations for The Haunted Hotel, but it didn't quite live up to them. A lot of it felt like Collins had just thrown every element of a sensation novel together (sinister beautiful woman, her 'angelic' opposite, broken marriage, suspicious deaths, mistaken identities, conniving servants), shaken them up, and threw it to an eager public. But besides the fact that it was so formulaic, I was really repulsed by the way Agnes (the 'good' lady) treats her former maid; with contempt, impatience, disgust, and an utter disregard for her feelings. Collins clearly seems to approve of this callous conduct, and I cannot, in the twenty-first century, read without great discomfort how a woman considered gracious, elegant and polite (and acting that way to her equals) is blatantly rude to a woman of a lower class. Also, Henry continuing to propose to Agnes after multiple rejections and her family telling him that she is not yet 'ready' was just plain creepy. However, the usual 'scary' scenes were satisfyingly chilling and even horrifying. I am always more than willing to revel in them, and though this novel had too much superstition for my taste, there was some lovely Victorian horror writing in this.