Paice's first adult (Young Adult, I reckon) novel is quickened by her exuberant interest in every character. We meet Amanda, the no-nonsense pub owner; Sebastian, who talks like someone pouring treacle; Flora, who can make everything familiar; other village types with their "swagger of entitlement" and personal serviette holders.
Plus there's Rebecca's vicar father, Jane Austen-loving and tree-embracing mother, clever older sister, wriggly and donkey-riding younger sister. The firefights and hugs, snappings and solidarity of family life are neatly rendered.
You'll warm to Rebecca instantly and want to smack her leg occasionally. She leaps with eagerness and confidence; she's touchingly vulnerable and gloriously self-centred.
Nobody has ever felt such feelings and thought such thoughts before, never ever - even if they're totally different 24 hours on.
She grows and changes authentically. Her adolescent absolutes start to evaporate; her perspectives widen. The world proves more challenging and capricious than she has realised.
Dialogue is springy, snarky, over-abundant. Gothic and girly are deftly interwoven.
There's a denouement with rending loss, touching - if contrived - optimism, and a couple of imminent royals. The ghostly end softly, the good end positively, the bad get slapped. Most satisfactory.
The Word Ghost by Christine Paice (Allen & Unwin $36.99).