I've been meaning to pick up Patricia Highsmith for ages but I only recently grabbed a handful of paperbacks from the used bookstore. The first one I cracked open was "The Talented Mr Ripley".
I went in blind aside from knowing Highsmith was the author behind one of my favourite Hitchcock's, STRANGERS ON A TRAIN, and I had an amazing time. Highsmith's prose is hypnotic, alternately lush and stark, and every character is some flavour of horrible. It's charming; Highsmith takes her time, lingering on small, mundane things that only heighten the tension as the plot spirals.
It's like KIND HEARTS AND CORONETS but with more darkness and less Alec Guinness.
I read the final chapters sitting on the bathroom floor with Ivan in my lap; since it's always going to be attached to my memories that way, I'm glad it was a good read.