Gothic Books

“Listen! The wind is rising, and the air is full of leaves,

We have had our summer evenings, now for October eves!”

Humbert Wolfe

My adoration of this season is well documented. The leaves, the crisp air – sweater weather! All the amazing baking that’s going on right now. Yes, pumpkin spice, it was invented to make the world a better place. And what better way to get into the seasonal mood than curling up in front of the crackling fire with a warm cup of tea and break into one of these gothic reads?

Gothic books focus on an eerie atmosphere, a haunted place or a person haunted by their past, and often supernatural events or hints of the otherworldly. Is there a better season to dive into a book that gives you the chills, but gently? Most of these books wouldn’t be categorized classically as horror, and they probably won’t keep you up at night. Will they make you dreamy, though, and convince you to dress up in many layers, perhaps to go for a long walk in the stiff wind as you contemplate the end of summer? Beware, they probably will.

Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Brontë

I unabashedly love Jane Eyre. I reread this often, getting swept up into that moody Gothic romance like nobody’s business. Poor orphaned Jane Eyre had a troubled childhood, but maintains a spirit of independence that allows her to seek her fortune in the world. She finds employment as a governess to the ward of a brooding Mr. Rochester. Even back in the 19th century, we were a fan of dark brooding men, because Jane falls rather hopelessly for her employer. But the estate they live in, Thornfield Hall, is just as brooding as her master and contains terrible secrets. Upon discovering them, Jane is forced to make a decision about what her life will be.

Would I have made the same decision Jane eventually does? Hella no, dear reader, but I get the appeal of dark and stormy love. And I come back to this timeless book again and again.

The Death of Jane Lawrence, by Caitlyn Starling

I will admit that the uber-creepy cover of The Death of Jane Lawrence pulled me into this book. A Gothic tale, set in a familiar yet fictional world, close to turn-of-the-20th-century, after a horrific war that involved gassing of populations (and harkens to WWI).

Jane is a practical creature who loves mathematics and accounting. An orphan, though well-cared for throughout her childhood, she now wants to get out of her guardian’s hair and therefore proposes marriage to the town doctor. He never seems incline to court the women of the town, so she figures he’s looking for an alternative arrangement to the typical one men and women choose.

Reluctantly the good doctor agrees, on one condition – she never come to his familial manor Lindridge Hall, but instead live at his clinic and do the books.

Jane swiftly discovers how alternative her new husband’s life is when she helps him in his surgery, and whispers of magic and horror linger in the air. Then she is forced by an accident to spend the night at Lindridge Hall, and she begins to uncover the secrets of her husband’s darkness.

I loved the dread and foretelling of this story, as well as the magic and occult ritual. This by all means should have been my kind of book. However, I found near the end the book descended into long, drawn-out madness that had me flipping pages to the end. It kept on going. I started to worry that Jane had gone insane and we’d end up at a sanatorium in the end, the ultimate let-down.

There were so many great elements here – an independent woman taking charge of her own destiny, the creepy dread, and there are shades of Rebecca here which I adore. But the fever-dream madness continues on far too long, and I’m afraid it lost me, unravelling the careful build-up.

Wuthering Heights, by Emily Brontë

One of the best know gothic novels from the 19th century, Wuthering Heights is a wild, passionate story of the intense and almost demonic love between Catherine Earnshaw and Heathcliff, a foundling adopted by Catherine’s father.

I read Wuthering Heights many years ago, and I suspect it’s due for a reread. I believe I was heavily pregnant at the time, and hormones may have skewed my perception, but my review was hardly complimentary. I have decided to leave it intact for full effect. Also, because it made me laugh. I want to hear from those who adored Wuthering Heights. Convince me to give it another chance?

My review from eight years ago:

I know this is one of the English greats in literature, but, ugh, I just couldn’t with Wuthering Heights. Everyone was just insane and nobody behaved rationally. I suppose that’s part of the point (what’s “passion” with rationality?) but it was just so horrible. Everyone was horrible and behaved horribly to each other. They all deserved each other. I did not enjoy reading this book at all.

And what is with all the random deaths? I suppose that back in those days people died a lot more randomly, but it seemed almost like people just got fed up and decided to die. Is that possible? Catherine seems to die out of sheer spite. Maybe she did. Maybe it’s possible. It just seems really implausible. It must have been really depressing to be a doctor back then.

The Turn of the Key, by Ruth Ware

Ruth Ware is always going to give you a thrilling read, with twists, turns and maybe a ghost or two. I’m always into what she’s putting out there, and the settings throughout rural England and Scotland add to the sense of creeping decay.

This book is set in the Highlands, in a remote house that is half Victorian monstrosity, half glassed-in high-tech monstrosity, and all monster. New nanny Rowan Caine arrives to take care of four girls, ranging from 2 to 14 and quickly finds herself isolated and overwhelmed. Not just by the children, who range from tantrumy to hostile, but the smart house itself that seems out to get her. Not to mention the weird sounds coming from an attic that shouldn’t exist.

The story is told from Rowan’s perspective after a horrible incident happened, begging a lawyer to take on her case because she swears she wasn’t guilty – and the twists begin from there. There is one twist at the end that I wish had been a bit better developed. But, let me tell you, the very last twist, the one that ends the entire story, is a doozy. I actually squealed because it was so good. Highly recommended for a quick page-turner.

Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier

Rebecca was a long overdue reread for me. This haunting thriller is one of the best, ever. So gothic and atmospheric, the build up is intense, as we all enter into the eyes of the nameless protagonist, every aspect of her life dominated by the ghost of Rebecca.

Since the book was written more than 80 years ago, there are some major differences from books nowadays. Rebecca takes its time; it’s not in any rush to get somewhere fast. At first, it irked me. I could read three new books at this rate! But after a deep breath, I settled into it, and it was glorious to really let a book expand. As a writer and reader, I know it is the style to grab a reader by the throat and not let them go until the last word. But I think there’s something to be said for letting the reader come to the book. Rebecca is coy that way, and I think we as readers could use more of this. Like, reading for mental health!

House of Hollow, by Krystal Sutherland

This horror is spine-tingling and dark, the kind of story that gets under your skin. Iris Hollow would like to pretend she has nothing to do with her older sisters, Vivi and Grey, though the three of them are bound by threads she doesn’t understand. When they were young children, the three of them went missing, only to be found months later in the alley where they went missing. Only subtle changes about the girls gave rise to suspicion in her family, that perhaps the girls were no longer the same.

Their hair went white, their eyes went black, and they seemed to hold unearthly power. Iris never understood why they were different, until her eldest sister Grey goes missing again. That’s when she realizes she was holding secrets back from them this entire time. There’s quite a bit of horror here, including body horror which isn’t my favourite, but the atmosphere created by this haunting book is pitch-perfect for the season.

The Witch of Willow Hall, by Hester Fox

The Witch of Willow Hall has all the trappings of a Gothic tale, with slow dread build-up and a healthy dose of the supernatural, as well as its fair share of romance.

It’s 1821, and the Montrose family has uprooted from Boston to a small settlement upriver, forced there by scandal. The well-to-do family is prepared to live out their shame away from the prying eyes of society, but tragedy follows them to Willow Hall. Lydia, along with her older sister Catherine and younger sister Emily, find themselves in a cold place with few male suitors (though Catherine does her best to throw herself at them all.)

Lydia feels like there is more to Willow Hall than what they can see, and so apparently does Emily because she begins to play with the ghosts on the property. We come to realize why Catherine is so desperate to find a man, while tragedy falls upon the family once again. Lydia, who is falling for her father’s business partner John, must choose what path her life will take – all depending on if she’s willing to follow the dangerous inheritance left her by her ancestors in Salem.

I enjoyed Willow Hall – with a caveat. I found that Lydia did a lot of wallowing alone in a spooky old hall, and not enough grabbing her destiny with two hands. This is pretty typical of your classic Gothic, but for a modern one I’d like to see her out there duelling for her future – not fainting away into strong arms, although I admit this is simply not done in 1821.

The Thirteenth Tale, by Diane Setterfield

If ever there was a book meant to be read on a dark and stormy night, it was this one. This book has everything: ghosts, mysterious fires, reclusive wealthy people, incest, insane asylums, twins’ secrets and secret twins. Margaret Lea, a young reclusive memoirist, is asked to write the biography of the most famous authors of all time, Vida Winters, herself a recluse as well. Curiousity drags Margaret out of her introverted shell and she travels to Winters’ chilly, and chilling, estate, to hear the promised last tale in a book of thirteen tales in which only twelve were ever published. The world is thirsting for that last tale, while Vida Winters prepares to make her last confession.

As with any good gothic tale, I spent a great deal of the story feeling uneasy, with a sort of dread creeping along through the narrative. In part, this is because both of the narrators (Margaret in ‘real time’ and Vida in the story within a story) may or may not be mad. It made the reading interesting and at times made me as the reader a little bit jittery.

At the mid-way point in the book, I couldn’t help but think narrator Margaret Lea was in serious need of therapy. Her obsession with her sister was certainly unhealthy, all the more so as she keeps her anguish hidden. Happily, there is a handsome doctor hanging about who takes an interest in her. After she collapses from spending a night out in the moors, he looks in on her. I initially did not love his diagnosis of her, that basically she reads Wuthering Heights too much and was too romantic. This is way too akin to the Victorian diagnosis of “hysteria” in a woman. However, his prescription was funny and appreciated: one dose of Arthur Conan Doyle a night. Margaret eagerly dives into Sherlock Holmes in her downtime.

This book is not for everyone. But I recommend it with all my heart if you love Jane Eyre or similar gothic novels. Above all, The Thirteenth Tale is a book for readers. If you exclaim over a beautifully turned phrase, this is probably the book for you. Recommended to be read in the autumn, in front of a fire with a hot cup of tea next to you.

Phantom’s Apprentice, by Heather Webb

Did I listen to the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical version of The Phantom of the Opera while I read this Phantom retelling? You bet I did! There’s nothing like those first few chords to set you right there, so gothic yet so quintessentially ‘80s. I adored the play as a kid, but, as did the author of this retelling, found the portrayal of women to be decidedly lacking.

Whether it was the musical or the original book by Gaston Leroux, neither were feminist masterpieces. This is why I greatly enjoyed Webb’s take on the story from Christine Daée’s perspective.

A gothic story seems to always portray a helpless swooning heroine, and Daée is hemmed in by her position and societal expectations, does do a bit of swooning. But she is intelligent, curious and also helpfully a master illusionist.

She uses her skills and courage to escape from the obsessive attention of the opera ghost – who comes off as appropriately creepy here. One’s kidnapper should never be promoted to a sex symbol. She also manages to escape the constrictive norms of 19th-century France. Good for her, I thought, and an enjoyable retelling.

Mood reader? I’ve got all kinds of moods. Check out some of my other book lists:

Sweet Books for Spooky Season

Scary Stories

War Books

Books for the Holidays

Middle Grade Horror

Scariest Monsters in Lit

World History Non Fiction

Women in Horror Books

Immortality in Literature

Books I Still Think About Years Later

Books Set in Paris

Books That Made Me Ugly Cry

Romance Novels

Underrated Books

Books to Soothe the Soul

Summer Reads

Mind-Blowing Science Fiction

And don’t forget to sign up for my newsletter! With a new book on the horizon, there’s going to be lots of giveaways and sneak peeks coming up. You can still grab a free copy of my book of short stories when you sign up.

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