The Haunting of Ashburn House by Darcy Coates
My rating: 1 of 5 stars
The Gist
I went into The Haunting of Ashburn House hoping for a good, spooky time—ghosts, creaking floorboards, mysterious family secrets. You know, the classic cozy horror experience.
Instead, I got 300+ pages of yelling at a protagonist who seems to have the decision-making skills of a soggy paper towel.
The Details
Let’s talk about Adrienne, our fearless (read: clueless) main character. She inherits a creepy old house in the middle of nowhere, and instead of asking any questions about its sketchy past, she just shrugs and moves in like it’s a quaint Airbnb. Because nothing says “safe and normal” like a dusty, isolated mansion full of antique portraits, locked rooms, and scratch marks on the floor.
Oh, and the townspeople? Practically foaming at the mouth to warn her. “Don’t go up there,” they say. “Ashburn House isn’t safe,” they say. But does our girl listen? Of course not! That would make sense.
Instead, she doubles down on staying put like she’s starring in a bad life insurance commercial: “How far will you go to ignore every survival instinct you have?”
She hears noises in the walls—weird, but maybe it’s just the pipes. Furniture moves on its own—odd, but maybe she bumped it. She finds a literal grave on the property—concerning, but let’s not jump to conclusions.
At some point, I was convinced Adrienne would find a severed head in the pantry and say, “Wow, the previous owner must have really liked Halloween.”
The writing itself is serviceable, and I’ll admit Darcy Coates knows how to create a spooky atmosphere. The house itself had more personality than Adrienne.
But what’s the point of a chilling setting when your main character reacts to life-threatening horror with the wide-eyed enthusiasm of someone solving a mild plumbing issue?
I could’ve forgiven some of it—one or two dumb decisions is par for the horror genre. But this was a marathon of obliviousness. Every chapter was a new opportunity for Adrienne to ignore danger signs that were practically on fire and screaming at her in Latin.
It stopped being scary and started feeling like a bad parody. I kept waiting for her to say, “I think the ghosts just need a hug,” and start a séance with scented candles and lo-fi music playing in the background.
The Verdict
Overall, if you’re a fan of haunted houses, suspense, and screaming at your book in frustration while the protagonist walks into yet another obviously cursed hallway—this might be for you.
But if you prefer characters who exhibit at least one functioning brain cell, consider passing on this one. Or read it as a comedy. That helped me get through it.
