Sarah Waters: The Little Stranger

Shortlisted for last year's Man Booker Prize, The Little Stranger is a surprisingly old-fashioned book. Set just after the Second World War, it's a gothic novel and feels much more remote. Apart from its mentions of rationing and fitted kitchens, its subject matter is essentially decay, tragedy and complete loss.
Outwardly, it's a tale of Hundreds Hall, the crumbling manor house belonging to the Ayres family. Scarred by the war, ageing Mrs Ayres and her grown-up children, Roderick and Caroline, are out of money and down on their luck. They refuse to leave Hundreds Hall, which they can barely afford to maintain, and although virtually cut off from their surroundings, hang on to their way of life. The children have no illusions about the hopelessness of their situation; Roderick having returned from the war injured, and Caroline resigning to her life as a spinster. This stasis is only interrupted when Dr Faraday, a country doctor from a humble background, starts visiting. His mother had once been a maid in Hundreds Hall, and he remembers it fondly. Shocked by its decay, he forms a friendship with they Ayres, and while parts of him resent the feudal spirit they are trying to cling to, his love of the house, and later, Caroline, keeps him captivated.
While the first part of the novel is pleasant enough, and quietly melancholic, the mood soon changes, when Roderick is driven mad by what seem to be spooks in the old Hall. The lengthy plot plunges the family deeper into tragedy, so much that you're inclined to wonder how much more Waters will be able to lower the tone. When things finally spiral out of control, you get a glimpse of the possibilities of Water's storytelling. Faraday's obsession with the house gets more sinister, although this is never fully explored. His stoic, academic refusal to take ghost stories to heart makes the reader struggle with his sympathy for the Ayres, but again, without doing much to stop the downwards spiral of the plot. There are other things worth exploring: the social confusion in post-war Britain, the role of the gentry, and the devastating effect of the war on young men's minds, for instance.
The end is as inevitable as it's dark, but I was left with a slight feeling of disappointment. It's a strong story and a captivating, atmospheric book with plenty to think about nonetheless. Maybe some of its appeal gets lost in the frantic rush to get to the end of the plot, and some sort of explanation.
Powerful stuff, especially if you're obsessed with old houses, although that might sound like I was missing the point slightly...