Eva Moves The Furniture:

A young Scottish woman, haunted by two ghostly “companions” only she can see, struggles to live a normal life.

Written by Margot Livesey
Fiction ·
Drama
Reviewed December 16, 2005
On the day of Eva McEwan’s birth, six blackbirds congregate in the tree outside her window — a bad omen, according to superstition. Soon her mother is dead, and she is left to be raised by her grieving father and aunt. But Eva is not a normal child, and is haunted by two ghosts, one an adult woman and one a young girl. “The companions”, as she calls them, accompany her into adulthood, wielding their influence over her life in ways that are not always welcome.
I love a good ghost story, and this is definitely good — not great, mind you, but serviceable, especially on a snowy winter night. While Eva isn’t a particularly memorable character, she’s duly sympathetic, and her curious experiences with the “companions” are what keep you turning the page, more so than her “normal” experiences. The ghosts are the best-drawn features of the story — their unsettling aspect comes not so much from their personalities or otherworldliness, but from their seeming omniscience and omnipresence. Despite being able to see these ghosts, Eva lacks any kind of clairvoyance, and this surprising dearth only heightens the eeriness of her predicament. Somewhat disappointingly, she is not often inclined to question the nature of her situation, and spends a good part of the book trying to avoid her ghostly friends. During my reading, I occasionally found myself wishing that we could have less Eva and more ghosts, or that timid Eva would finally get up the nerve to really explore the phenomena happening around her.
Some of the plot twists are fairly obvious even from the start, but they aren’t so important that the foreknowledge takes away from the effect. The ending, though predictable, is handled fairly well, although I personally felt that everything was a bit over-explained.
Despite its old-fashioned subject matter, this book is written in very spare, modern prose. While this makes for a quick, smooth read, it also lacks resonance; after closing the book, I could remember the story, but not a single sentence or phrase. But this is a fairly minor quibble, since this stark writing style does not get in the way of a well-told story.
Speaking of quibbles, there’s one petty thing that’s been stuck in my mind since I finished this book: what is with the cover photo (a young woman in a red dress, floating in a pool of water)? There’s nothing in the book about anyone floating in water; there are mentions of near-drownings, but nothing like the red-skirted scene. Just goes to show that you can’t judge a book by its cover.
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