A grim and gothic new tale from author Alix E. Harrow about a small town haunted by secrets that can’t stay buried and the sinister house that sits at the crossroads of it all.
Eden, Kentucky, is just another dying, bad-luck town, known only for the legend of E. Starling, the reclusive nineteenth-century author and illustrator who wrote The Underland–and disappeared. Before she vanished, Starling House appeared. But everyone agrees that it’s best to let the uncanny house?and its last lonely heir, Arthur Starling?go to rot.
Opal knows better than to mess with haunted houses or brooding men, but an unexpected job offer might be a chance to get her brother out of Eden. Too quickly, though, Starling House starts to feel dangerously like something she’s never had: a home.
As sinister forces converge on Starling House, Opal and Arthur are going to have to make a dire choice to dig up the buried secrets of the past and confront their own fears, or let Eden be taken over by literal nightmares.
If Opal wants a home, she’ll have to fight for it.
Starling House is marketed as Gothic horror, but for me, it leaned more toward contemporary fantasy with gothic elements. There are monsters, and a haunted house, but the true horror is more rooted in history and legacy than in scares or suspense.
The central concept is strong: a sentient, mysterious house that’s as likely to protect you as it is to destroy you. That ambiguity, along with the house’s eerie charm, was one of my favorite parts of the book. The monsters, too, are compelling: dangerous and unsettling, yet not clearly evil. I’m always drawn to stories where good and evil isn’t clearly defined, and Starling House explores that space with nuance.
The novel touches on heavy themes, slavery, generational trauma, systemic racism, and does so with varying degrees of depth. The town’s past is ugly, its sins far from buried, and I appreciated the slow unraveling of that history. People may be sorry, but they still look away. That quiet complicity felt all too real.
Found family plays a quiet but powerful role in the story. I enjoyed watching the characters, especially the protagonist, who’s fiercely protective of her younger brother, realize they don’t have to carry everything alone. The support comes from unexpected places, which added a nice layer of emotional payoff.
That said, Starling House didn’t fully land for me. The romance felt predictable and leaned heavily into Beauty and the Beast territory, which isn’t a trope I enjoy. The characters, while likable, follow familiar patterns: the tough-but-traumatized sister, the dead mum who wasn’t good with men, the absent father and of course the brooding rich man with a tragic past. I found myself wishing for a bit more originality in their arcs.
As for the queer representation, it’s there, but mostly in the background. A side f/f couple, a line or two about past relationships with both women and men, but the central romance remains the classic “gritty girl softens guarded rich guy” story. For a book tagged as LGBT, I hoped for more central representation.
In the end, Starling House is a solid read with a strong sense of atmosphere and some thoughtful themes. While it didn’t break new ground for me, it offered a haunting setting and moments of emotional depth that made it worth the time.
