You could subtitle this book: The Punishment of the Ordinary. In almost every story a normal person is living his life just like millions of other ordinary people when something extra-ordinary happens to him – and there is nothing he can do to escape his fate. Because the extra-ordinary does not manifest itself as something miraculous or exalting but rather as something that destroys and obliterates. Occasionally, the protagonist does, just about, manage to escape the onrushing juggernaut of fate, of which the best example is ‘Duel’ where a travelling salesman driving cross country is tracked by a psychotic truck driver intent on pulverising his little car (Steven Spielberg turned this into a film). But, more often, there is nothing that can be done to escape. Nemesis comes to the innocent. Perhaps that’s the point. In this world, no one is truly innocent. Everyone is tainted but most of us veil ourselves in cloaks of unearned righteousness. Matheson’s tales strip away that pretension. Although not in any sense religious stories, there is an underlying sense, which Matheson was probably completely unaware of, that all are fallen, all are corrupt besides the supernatural holiness of the divine. Simply being ordinary and normal is no armour against the dark old forces of the universe should they turn, for whatever reason, their weary gaze upon you.