I checked out the same fifteen books over and over during my childhood and made the most out of terrifying myself with the collected stories of shadowy specters, dilapidated mansions, and the pale woman hitchhiker near the gates of some forgotten cemetery.
Though time and location are never specified, The Manual of Detection has the feel of a novel set in an early 20th-century US coastal city, and the landscape is rich with details of railway stations, rainy alleyways and abandoned hill-top mansions inhabited by shadowy criminals, alluring, duplicitous women and circus freaks.
As the trail left by Darkus's father leads inexorably to the shadowy corridors of her millionaire's mansion, she grows more and more unpleasant – in ways that will satisfy the most shock-hungry of young readers without alarming the more sensitive ones.
These types, these loaded shadowy gentlemen, were the fathers and the mansion owners and the Little League coaches in my hometown, Bridgewater, a relatively Republican enclave around ten miles from Trump's Bedminster course.
Years of seclusion followed as Getty took his addictions and retreated into a shadowy life of self-hate and depression, behind the doors of his Chelsea mansion.
As we walked toward the mansion, I became aware of the presence all around us of enormous, shadowy formations, which proved to be topiary animals.
Mr. Nada and his partner Ghaleb Himmat, who spent five hours talking with a reporter this week in their office and in Mr. Nada's tiled hillside mansion across the lake in Campione d'Italia, Italy, do not fit the image of the shadowy unregulated money shifters portrayed by some American officials.
The stone and marble mansions through which Wharton's socialites march like expressionless automatons have all the allure of shadowy mausoleums.
