Fans pick 100 books like Priory

Even though this is a period novel, I read this story for its Gothic horror and literary acumen. Repression of memories, feelings, and guilt struck me throughout. Dr. Faraday discovers ghostly mysteries at Hundreds Hall, and his romance with Caroline is spooky enough, but this ghost story is grounded in reality.

Who is the little stranger haunting the premises? I sunk deeply into this story, drinking up the beauty. But the ending! Wow. Brilliantly revealed and aptly placed on the final page. Sarah Waters hides the ghost in plain sight, and yet I was surprised at the conclusion—delightfully so. I’m a sucker for one-liners that grab the reader by the throat, metaphorically speaking, at the last line. I plan to read it again because it’s that good.

This is a love-it or hate-it novel. Either you find it tiresome, or you give yourself over whole-heartedly to its unique madness. It has at its heart a film, The Navidson Record, a documentary about a photojournalist who moves his family into a pretty house and discovers that the house is bigger on the inside than the outside, and getting bigger.

As he and his friends try to explore the limits of the house, it rearranges itself around them. The film is described in the text by an old man, complete with a mountain of scholarly footnotes by a tattoo artist. But this book is also powered by a genuinely unsettling, often terrifying descent into hell. It’s a deranged funhouse of a novel that you will probably never forget. 

I strongly recommend this book as not only does it weave spooky images of ghostly events in one’s psyche, but couples it with fascinating phenomena such as telepathic communication and willpower. Furthermore, I was fascinated by the complex personality of the main protagonist, who allows himself to become victim of evil forces leading to a gradual descent into madness.

It also emphasises that social isolation in a remote place can have a detrimental impact on oneself and those close to you. I found the fight for survival in this tale riveting.

I can’t have Christmas without a good ghost mystery and for me, Carfax House perfectly fits the bill. When her husband gets caught up at work in London, a lonely wife prepares their new country home for Christmas. But an elusive female figure haunting the building and its fog-strewn grounds reconnect her with a traumatic experience from the past. The contrast between the enforced jollity of Christmas and the strain on the woman’s psyche threatens to wreck her increasingly fragile grip on reality.

One night, a gaunt woman stumbles into the road in front of Lauren and her father. They take her home, but the next day she is gone, and only Lauren can remember she was ever there. 

The best supernatural horror works because it reflects the terrors of real life. Francine Toon’s Pine is the story of Lauren, a young girl growing up in rural Scotland with an alcoholic father and only the memory of a mother who disappeared when she was a child.

And while the supernatural is always present, it is the isolation and actions of the living that create true horror. 

The first time I read this book, I was blown away by how twisty and creepy it was.

Silla is a wonderfully complex heroine. Is she paranoid, or is the manor really cursed? How much is she imagining and how much is real? Every time I thought I knew where the book was going, I was wrong. It just gets weirder and more unsettling as the book progresses.

As I read it, I just kept thinking that things didn’t make sense. But it was so compelling that I couldn’t stop, even when I was very confused. The ending pulls it all together with a completely satisfying ending that explained every question I had. It goes darker than most YA, but I loved it for going all in.

An allegedly haunted house, an evil step-sister, an abandoned and rotting town, and distrustful neighbors crowd together in this sharply told story about a girl running from her past. With each page, my paranoia grew until there was no easy way to tell what was real, and what was a red herring. This book was freaky. I was afraid to read it late at night because if I did, my over-active imagination would absolutely torture me with sinister nightmares.

There’s no place like home, especially when it’s Wakefield Manor, where ghosts and memories are trapped in an endless loop. When the introverted, quirky protagonist Sam (who reminded me of my favorite Shirley Jackson character—Merricat Blackwood) is forced to welcome her estranged, pregnant sister back to the decaying family manor, Sam’s already-frayed nerves are pushed to the limit. But when her sister’s arrival becomes the catalyst for disturbing visions of a faceless boy with a penchant for cruelty, Sam seeks answers in the claustrophobic halls of her ancestral home. Who is this monstrous, cruel boy? What does he want? Seething with tumultuous family dynamics and a plot as complex as it is unsettling, the atmosphere of It Will Just Be Us had me enraptured from the very first pages and didn’t let go until the gasp-inducing ending. 

While there are haunted house-like novels before James’s 1898 classic, this in many ways is a granddaddy of modern haunted tales. An isolated country estate? Check. A creepy housekeeper? Check. Two even creepier children, possibly possessed? Check, check! When the unnamed narrator is hired as the new governess in a remote country home in England, she arrives to find that her two young wards are already nearly corrupted by the ghosts of the former governess and groundskeeper. As she works to save them, the narrator herself is threatened, both by the ghosts and by the children she’s meant to save. The psychological possibilities of this book, however, linger at the edges of the text, threatening to undermine the whole notion of what this haunting really is.

I can never get enough ghost and haunted house stories that have social commentary themes. This is one of the books that helped inspire my own book. Trevor Riddell’s parents are separated, and Trevor and his father move to his lumber-robber-baron grandfather’s mansion in the woods of the northwest, where Trevor’s father and aunt hope to talk their ailing father into a big-money real estate deal involving the house and land.

This book has everything I love: ghosts, intrigue, mystery, history, emotionally-complex antagonists, and epistolary story-telling through letters and journals. Woven into all that, Stein manages to insert a moral about conservation and trees (and other things I’ll let you discover on your own). Ghost stories have a history of being morality tales, and this is a modern version—true to the tradition—that I really enjoyed.