What do you get when you mix the Brontës + Dickens + Austen? Moors, murder, and madness in a story woven by Diane Setterfield, The Thirteenth Tale.

In this literary page-turner, a lonely, bookish daughter of an antique book collector gets chosen to write the biography of a bestselling author. This author, more of a recluse than Emily Dickinson, dwells in a Wuthering-Heights-type house, and the tale she unfolds both fascinates and sends shivers from spine to fingernails. When the story catches up to real time, the suspense kicks into overdrive.

My chaplain friend, Lin, recommended The Thirteenth Tale back when I was recuperating from surgery last November. (I can always count on Lin to nail a book recommendation--last time: The Year of Magical Thinking.) I finally got around to reading Setterfield’s debut novel this week, and I have to say Lin’s reputation is solidly intact. I stayed up far too late devouring it, but then, isn’t that what the good novels do—remind us that a story well-told is worth even more than a good night’s sleep?