Wow, this was a quick read.
Honestly? The movie was better. The writing style feels a little dated, and I've discovered I don't love Bloch's novels. His short stories are another matter; he's creepy and funny and perhaps a touch grandiose in a throughly
enjoyable way those. His short stories all deserve to be read aloud by Vincent Price. But his novels? Eh.
(Warning for individuals familiar with psychology, in a way the audience of 1959 perhaps was not: you may be tempted to toss the book gently against the wall at one point. Jesus. ...a more horrifying thought is that the way things are discussed is the way they were actually understood at the time
, which just... Anyway. Moving on!)
On the plus side: coherent plot, decent characterization, some really unsettling looks into Norman's can-of-worms mind. If it were a little (a lot?) longer, it'd be coming out as a summer slasher blockbuster read. Not bad, just not great.