Books like The Fate of Mary Rose — picked by fans

From the author of 'Black Narcissus', 'The Diddakoi' & 'The Dolls' House', this coming of age tale with a macabre twist does not seem to have garnered as much attention as some of the author's other works, but I liked it a lot. A family of English children plan an extended holiday in France, but once mother gets sick on the train they are put up in a hotel (with an orchard) & left to fend for themselves. The narrator, 13 year old Cecil, experiences culture shock, her first period & a growing jealousy of her older sister who attracts the attentions of a suave, older English gentleman (who might not be all he seems). The tone lies somewhere between 'The Railway Children' & one of Gaston Leroux's detective novels, nostalgia as a wistful dream turned a little sour.

Following on from her excellent collection 'All The Fabulous Beasts', this novella tunnels more towards folk horror than fairytale gothic. It's a coming of age fable, focusing on the experiences of a young boy whose family reluctantly relocate from the city to the open countryside...yet open to what? The rugged, unfamiliar landscape itself soon becomes a central character as well as a confidant to Gideon as he struggles to adjust to this new way of life (and his budding sexuality). The tone vaguely reminded me of Thomas Hardy, yet I found more similarities with the cinema. This could almost be Robert Eggers 'The VVitch' re-imagined with a male protagonist or one of those defiantly earthy fairytales from East European directors: 'Beauty And The Beast' by Juraj Herz or 'Three Wishes For Cinderella' by Václav Vorlíček. Folklore as escapist revenge fantasy.

I recommend this book because of its evident understanding of the psychology of fear. 

From the very first, there is an ominous atmosphere—evil characters, and above all, misunderstanding. Everything in this novel is pointed toward a ambience of fright. The characters are, aside from Rebecca, who is quite innocent, mysterious and dark.

Everything in the novel, the house, the furnishings therein, the weather, everything is portrayed as sinister. This is a tour de force of maintaining a consistent and frightening atmosphere.

I love this book because it proves fear does not have to shout to own the room.

Shirley Jackson makes dread feel elegant, patient, and almost polite, which somehow makes it worse. I admire how much she trusts atmosphere, silence, suggestion, and character discomfort.

That is the kind of horror I respect most: not just “what is happening?” but “why does everything suddenly feel wrong?”

I read all of Blackwood’s novels and stories when researching my first biography, on the life of Caroline Blackwood. This is the one that stayed with me, Blackwood’s semi-autobiographical novella of Dunmartin Manor, housing three generations of Websters and Dunmartins. From the cold cruelty of the narrator’s great grandmother, to the fairy-like madness of her grandmother, and the tragedy of her fun-loving but suicidal Aunt Lavinia, all seem like extensions of the mansion—a decaying, grand old house, freezing in the winter, sweltering in the summer, and given to flooding. Like the house itself, the characters are trapped by the weight of their own Anglo-Irish, aristocratic history. No conflagration here, except for the cremation of Great Granny Webster.

Another unnamed narrator visits Roderick Usher, an old friend, in yet another decaying mansion that houses an isolated, disturbed family—Roderick and his twin sister, Madeline. They are the last of the Ushers, but she has fallen into a cataleptic state—one of Poe’s treasured themes! The manse itself is surrounded by a lake, and a crack runs the length of the house. Roderick tells his friend that the house is alive and entwined with his and Madeline’s fate. Madeline dies and is entombed in the family vault, but Roderick fears that she’s not really dead. During a cataclysmic storm, Madeline has indeed clawed her way out of her tomb and she attacks her brother. The narrator flees into the night, looking back to see the house split in two and crumble into fragments, becoming the final tomb for Roderick and his sister. Dark!  

Whenever people think of Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House springs to mind, and, for many years, I stopped right there. I was wrong.

In my opinion, We Have Always Lived in the Castle is actually a much better book – better in terms of plot and characterization. In telling the story of the decidedly disturbed and disturbing Blackwood family and their sinister home, Shirley Jackson explores small-town prejudice as well as the creeping impression that, while something awful has already happened, there is much worse to follow.

Merricat is a character I identified with. She is strong, determined, and a fighter. With the odds stacked so firmly against her, she needs to be. Jackson’s last novel is, for me at least, her greatest.