For all the fuss over Sixth Sense, I felt Stir of Echoes was a better movie, far more intense and involving and just downright scarier. As a matter of fact, Stir of Echoes might just crack my personal 'Ten Favorite Movies'.
Because of that, and a recent Richard Matheson kick, I was eager to read the original novel that inspired the movie.
You can tell it formed the bones of the film. Tom Wallace is hypnotized at a party and develops psychic gifts that lead him to suspect foul play took place in his rented home.
Beyond that the movie veers sharply off the written page, and for good reason. The book reads like a claustrophobic example of '50's Suburbia. A good handful of people shoved into their perfect little world, everyone civil and sweet on the surface and chafing at the bit inside. Ugh. That's no way to live.
Aside from that, I think Matheson made a mistake writing in the first person. I think it weakens the story in this case, divorcing the reader from much of the suspense.
A good book, but I doubt it will be remembered in a a century's time.