THE WHISPERING HOUSE

In a house as old and (apparently) stately as Byrne Hall, there are certain to be secrets behind locked doors.

Freya Lyell’s life has felt paused since her sister, Stella, committed suicide five years prior by throwing herself off the cliffs near Byrne Hall, an idyllic manor on the English coast. When Freya gets drunk at a cousin’s wedding held on the estate’s grounds (a somewhat insensitive wedding location, Freya believes), she stumbles on a portrait that eerily resembles her dead sister. Later, unable to get this portrait out of her mind, she leaves the routine of her young adult life in London (work, swim, home to dad) and heads back to Byrne Hall to try to find some answers. What she’s met with, however, are not answers but an almost instantaneous happiness that feels off-kilter with the issues that keep circling in her thoughts—her sister’s suicide, her mother’s death when she was 5, and her ensuing troubled childhood. Bolstering this happiness is her whirlwind romance with would-be portrait artist Cory Byrne, who lives in Byrne Hall, his family estate, with his ailing mother and takes Freya as his all-consuming muse. But even in her newfound elation, a darkness—almost a morbidness—lingers uncomfortably close: “In every version I kiss him right back, and it’s almost like the last scene in the movie—except that there’s an old woman curled up on the bed, and her fingers are twitching restlessly on top of the sheets.” When Brooks suddenly shifts the narrative back in time to when Stella was alive, the darkness bubbling beneath creaky floorboards begins to boil over. Brooks’ elegant prose and artfully written protagonist keep this somewhat predictable thriller from feeling formulaic.

Eerie, gripping, and macabre: a gothic romance for the contemporary age.