by Marilyn Harris
1974 Random House
A middle-aged woman houses hippie-type foreigners in her country estate in rural England. Most of the book is about the mutual distrust between them and the traditional townspeople, punctuated with mysterious acts of ritual rape and murder.
At first I thought this one was too "literary" for me, but I'm glad I stuck with it. The rituals were written in a stylized setting which contrasted nicely with the almost banal, matter-of-fact accounting of human butchery. And I'm glad she did a swerve from the whole Wicker Man thing.
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