The Jackson of the title is the manservant to Benet, who had been presiding over a wedding which is wrecked when the bride to be vanishes, and thereby hangs the complex, English Gothic tale. You could call this novel, from one aspect, a psychological thriller but it is better described, perhaps, as a creation of surreal whimsy. The blurb calls it "rich and enchanting," and reputable critics have praised it, but personally I found it a curious though very characteristic blend of quasi intellectualism, never ever escapism, and soap opera melodrama. Strictly for Murdoch fans, I should think, though, unlike other recent novels of hers, it is relatively short.