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T. Kingfisher has a knack for writing small towns and horrid grandmothers, and the two books of hers that I read seem to be a part of an extended universe (if Pondsboro and the goth barista are anything to go by).

The Twisted Ones and

A House with Good Bones follow a similar formula, but I don't mind because I happen to like it very much. This book isn't half as scary as

The Twisted Ones, but it has its moments. It's a light read and it kept me engaged throughout, made me smile and chuckle and learn way too much about bugs.

It might not be a literary masterpiece but I'm giving it 5 stars regardless, because it left me with a pleasant afterglow and a desire to read more of Kingfisher's works.