Dr. Faraday, who grew up a child of the lower classes, first visited Hundreds Hall as a child when his mother, a servant in the great mansion, brought him there while she was preparing for a party. Now, decades later, he is a reasonably successful local doctor who has elevated his social standing considerably, though still not quite to the decayed heights of the British gentry. He is called back to Hundreds Hall on a professional call and is shocked by the state of disrepair into which the one-great manse and the once-great Ayres family have fallen. Roderick Ayres, the young lord of the mansion, is suffering from both post-WWII shell-shock and the lingering effects of physical injuries incurred during the war. Caroline, the daughter of the family, is swiftly becoming an eccentric spinster, and widowed Mrs. Ayres struggles to retain wisps of the grace and elegance that was once hers. Struck by the family’s plight, Dr. Faraday involves himself in attempting to treat Roderick’s muscle pains, and soon finds himself becoming quite attached to the whole family—indeed, his attachment almost reaches the level of obsession.

Roderick, however, is clearly unbalanced and edgy, convinced that there is an evil presence haunting Hundreds Hall. After several incidents of escalating violence which culminate in an unexplained fire that destroys Roderick’s chambers and nearly kills Roderick himself, Faraday feels there is no other choice but to confine the young man to a mental institution. Roderick continues to claim, however, that all of these incidents were perpetrated not by him as Faraday believes, but by some entity who wishes nothing but ill. With Roderick now out of the way, Caroline and her mother now must shoulder the responsibilities of running the household, with Faraday stepping into the occasional role of man of the house. He finds his fondness for Caroline growing steadily, but unfortunately for them all, Roderick’s evil presence is not quite done with the Ayres family or with Dr. Faraday.

Spooky, complex, and highly literary, “The Little Stranger” is a gothic for a new generation. Fascinating details of post-war British life add depth and flavor. ( )

In her new book The Little Stranger, award-winning author Sarah Waters (Fingersmith; The Night Watch) spins an unsettling tale of class struggle, sexual repression, and other ghosts that haunt a declining manor home. The year is 1949, and Dr. Faraday is an unassuming English country doctor who becomes entranced by the once-wealthy Ayres family living in Hundreds Hall. Faraday is ashamed of his working-class background, and he insinuates himself into the world of the elderly Mrs. Ayers and her two surviving children, Roderick and Caroline, adopting the family as his own. As he does, the Ayreses and their manor begin to crumble apart, haunted by both the changing nation and a far more sinister specter.

Waters gives this ghost story a life of its own with her characteristic eye for historical detail. She treats her characters with respect and affection, even those who seem unlikable at first glance. Caroline Ayres, a “natural spinster,” becomes one of the most delightful and tragic characters I’ve met. It is hard not to fall in love with this dowdy misfit, even as her family descends into darkness. Waters works hard to make us like and understand her characters, making The Little Stranger’s horrifying conclusion all the more devastating. ( )

Though I tagged this as horror, it's not exactly the right genre. Waters' book is a ghost story at heart, but even more it's a tale about love and loss. What makes it so good is Waters' writing and her characters. Even when you know characters are making iffy and possibly bad decisions, you want things to work out. And by the end of the book, you realize that there's no other way for it to end -- no matter what you think of her characters. I will definitely have to read some of her other books. ( )

Is there a ghost at Hundreds Hall? This is the question left hanging over the reader at the conclusion of Sarah Waters' latest novel, The Little Stranger. I, for one, remain unconvinced; not fully prepared to accept the possibility, nor to dismiss it outright. Like Dr Faraday, I am determined to cling to my rationalist perspective and avoid jumping to conclusions. Many other readers, I am sure, will disagree, and this is perhaps the novel's greatest strength: its ability to tread the threshold of proof between the explainable and the supernatural, compelling its readers to wrestle with their own half-formed opinions and conclusions.

Unfortunately, the majority of this 'literary meat' is confined to the final two hundred pages of the novel, and even then, it is fairly thinly spread. To reach it – along with other interesting aspects, such as Faraday's mulish, almost treacherous determination in pursuing both Caroline and logical solutions to every mystery – readers will have to wade through an unbelievable amount of padding. Waters seems to enjoy hammering the decay of the house and estate to no end, robbing the novel of the brevity and subtlety it may otherwise have possessed. To an audience mired in endless text, this story can often feel like little more than an empty tragedy.

The Little Stranger is the kind of book that I would love to see reimagined as a novella: a potent experiment in how easily we are willing to suspend our disbelief when reading, and how we might apply our reasoning differently in a real world scenario. In this format – somewhere around the size of Alan Bennet's The Uncommon Reader, in my mind – I could see it as a volume I might pass on to friends in the hope of discussing their reactions, as well as all those literary touches that Waters would have reduced to sharp little references. One does not need to spend five pages exploring a building site, for example, to understand her point about the new England's plebeian multitudes breaching the gates of Hundreds. As it is, there is simply not enough material here to be spread across the epic, over-rendered novel that Waters has envisaged. The writing may be quite transporting, but it is easy to become fed up with the destination. ( )

I completely agree with the reviews below that say this would be a good book for another author, but slightly misses the high mark set by Sarah Waters' other novels. The mystery at the center of the novel did keep me guessing till nearly the end, but it was still not quite as good as I wanted it to be. ( )