“Whatever walked there, walked alone.” I read The Haunting of Hill House decades ago, after a university friend had me watch one of her favorite films, The Haunting (which deserved her accolades, and now I need to rewatch it). But it’s been so long, and in anticipation of reading Elizabeth Hand’s The Haunting on the Hill, which is billed as the “first authorized novel” to revisit Shirley Jackson’s classic. The original is still just as dread-filled as read as it ever was, that sense of foreboding and other-ness permeates every page. As a reader, I felt both sympathy and repulsion for Eleanor and the others. I’m very curious to see how Hill House has fared and what it has in store for its new visitors.