A Stir of Echoes by Richard Matheson
It's been awhile since I saw the movie, but as I recall it the plot diverges from the novel somewhat. Here we are in the typical 1950s fictional suburb, the houses painted and neat, the lawns green, the residents chipper and prosperous and happy on the outside, and a seething mass of repressed desires and frustrated needs on the inside. This was what Matheson brought to the horror novel: Mundane, late 20th century life shot through with unspoken personal agendas while underneath lurked a world of supernatural or paranormal experience that occasionally revealed itself to one or a few of the characters. Without Matheson, I'm not sure there would have been a Stephen King.
In this novel, Thomas Wallace experiences an awaking of psychic powers after being hypnotized, shortly after which he sees what might be a ghost. If this doesn't have quite the level of novelty of I am Legend or The [Incredible] Shrinking Man, or the ruthless Gothicism of Hell House, Matheson still does a masterful job of gradually of depicting the neighborhood the Wallaces live in, unveiling the extent of Wallace's awakening, of the effect on the man and his wife, of the gradual solving of the mystery. All in 211 paperback pages. One thing King didn't learn from Matheson was brevity.
This is a solid ghost story and a good read. I recommend it, especially if you've already read Matheson's better known sf/fantasy/horror novels and would like something else by him.
Next up: more from Matheson-land, I think; I'll reread Hell House.
Randy M.