The best atmospheric novels about life after personal tragedy

This book is a masterwork of psychological suspense that I love for its unreliable narration, emotional intensity, vivid rendering of character and place, and ingenious plot twists. Just as compelling and atmospheric as du Maurier’s earlier Rebecca, this novel similarly features a central enigma in the form of a shape-shifting woman. Still, its narrator and protagonist is a young man.

Philip Ashley, heir to a Cornish estate, is reckoning with the sudden overseas death of his beloved cousin and guardian, Ambrose, under mysterious circumstances. As he increasingly questions the role Ambrose’s new wife—a mysterious widow named Rachel—might have played in the months leading to his death, the grief-stricken Philip is drawn into a drama of conspiracy, romance, and obsession that will test the limits of his sanity.

There’s a driving intensity to this book's narrative and atmosphere, which remains as compelling and fresh today as when I first read it years ago. Part of its power derives from Eugenides’ use of first-person plural narration through the collective voice of a group of neighborhood boys still haunted, years later in adulthood, by the untimely deaths of five adolescent sisters in 1970s suburban Michigan.

Part-detectives, part-elegists, they piece together their memories of not only the girls but of a particular place and time now vanished. I’m always struck by the book’s deft melding of pathos and humor and by the way that what is essentially a personal suburban tragedy gradually begins to speak to a wider malaise that calls into question the American dream itself.

I always marvel at the feat Wharton achieves in delivering this vivid story of love and sacrifice in such a slim volume—but part of Ethan Frome’s power derives from its brevity. Set in a New England farming town during the upheavals of the Industrial Revolution, Wharton’s novel tells the tale of how the titular Ethan Frome became “the ruin of a man.”

Every time I read it, I’m captured by the struggles and indignities of Frome’s life as he ekes out a living on an unproductive farm under the eye of his unsympathetic wife, Zeena. When joy and hope suddenly arrive for Ethan in the form of Zeena’s cousin, Mattie, the tension of knowing that, somehow, they will be prevented from the happy ending they deserve is almost unbearable.

I was moved and delighted by this highly original novel, which blends murder-mystery with heartfelt philosophical explorations into animal rights, mysticism, existential anxiety, and our own humanity.

Narrator-protagonist Janina, a woman who translates Blake, studies horoscopes and feels a deep connection to the animals around her; she tells the story of what happens one winter when a series of men in her Polish village are murdered by a culprit yet to be found.

I adored this book’s intelligence and blending of tragedy and humor. Its narrative combines a compelling plot with a distinctive first-person voice and deeply thoughtful reflections about the beauty, cruelty, and wonder of life.

The atmosphere and voice created by Robinson in this timeless and widely beloved novel, which is potent in a way that’s difficult to quantify, has endured in my memory since I first read it as a teenager. In prose rich with imagery and allusion, narrator Ruth tells the story of how she and her sister, Lucille—orphaned after their mother’s suicide—came to be cared for by their aunt, Sylvie, an eccentric drifter, who moves into their rural Idaho home and alters the tenor of their lives.

This is written with the precision of poetry, containing such sentences as, “When she had been married a little while, she concluded that love was half a longing of a kind that possession did nothing to mitigate.” A novel to re-read and savor.