By Jim Mcleod 
Consider this your prescription. A dose of Gadz’s narrative that splits your reading experience clean in two. You’ll be half desperate to recommend it to everyone, and half tempted to Hyde it away for yourself. The perfect novel for anyone who likes their horror with a side of pedigree and a full measure of glorious, gruesome invention.
The House of All Sorrows Review: A Jekyll of a Good Read (Or a Hydeous One?)
It’s a strange time for horror, isn’t it. All the old monsters are back, but they’re wearing different faces. You get the sense that we’re digging them up not just to be scared, but to ask them something. Richard Gadz seems to know that. The House of All Sorrows, what a title by the way, it sounds like a place you’d find on a faded street sign in a dream, is his latest attempt at a conversation with the classics. Not just a retelling, but a remix. A Victorian high society horror romp that understands you need more than just cobwebs to build a proper dread. You need the right kind of ingredients.
Let’s get the setup out of the way, though I hate just listing plot points. It’s 1897. Somerset. Frederick Jekyll, yes that Jekyll, and his wife Violet are throwing a fancy dress shindig for the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee. Meanwhile, a young historian named Jack Utterson turns up to poke around some local archaeology. You can see the gears turning. You know there’s a basement.
You know there are screams in the dead of night. The trick, and Gadz’s skill, isn’t in hiding the monster. It’s in making you lean closer to the cage, even as the rust flakes off under your fingers. Let’s just say the party planning is a little half baked. Or should I say, half Jekyll, half Hyde.
But here’s the thing that snagged me. It’s not just the gore, the creatures, the body count, though there’s plenty, make no mistake. It’s the texture. Gadz, who’s something of a specialist in this historical horror niche, has a knack for the period voice. He doesn’t just set a scene. He builds a room you can smell. The prose has this deliberate, almost formal rhythm that evokes the 1880s, but it’s never a drag. It moves. It’s a balancing act. Stiff upper lip, and then a gut punch of horror. A truly proper horror novel, where the characters are still polite enough to say “terribly sorry” before fleeing a monstrosity.
And my god, the basement. Jekyll’s experiments here aren’t just about a potion for splitting personality. We’re in Dr. Moreau territory, with shocking experiments hidden away down there. Gadz is playing with the Victorian fear of degeneration, of nature fighting back, of the aristocracy literally manufacturing its own nightmares. That’s the key, a small, stubborn flame in all that darkness. It’s not all nihilism.
I keep thinking about the sly humour, too. There’s a bleak, Gothic wit in the character observations, in the absurdity of genteel society sipping tea while hell prepares to break loose in the west wing. It’s not “funny ha ha,” but it has a pulse, an awareness of its own machinery. That prevents it from being a dreary slog.
The structure is clever, different perspectives shuffling the reader’s loyalty like a deck of cards. You see the mystery through Utterson’s curious eyes, feel the dread through the servants’ ears, and catch glimpses of Jekyll’s own twisted logic. It creates a brilliant, claustrophobic mosaic. That’s the feeling. It’s fun. A dark, gruesome, intellectually sharp kind of fun, but fun nonetheless. It doesn’t hate its reader.
Is it perfect. Well, what is. If you’re allergic to any whiff of the familiar, the Jekyll and Hyde mythos, the haunted house, the mad scientist, you might roll your eyes at the premise. But Gadz’s talent is in making the implausible plausible. He grounds the fantasy in enough historical and emotional grit that you buy it. You believe in the creatures in the basement. You believe in the sorrow.
So who is it for, this tale of crumbling aristocracy and rusting cages. Obviously, Gothic horror fans. Readers who miss the feeling of a traditional, tale well told but crave a modern kick. But also, I’d argue, for people who think they don’t like Gothic horror. The prose is accessible, the pace is brisk, and the themes of scientific hubris, class, and the monsters we create to uphold our comfort are painfully relevant. It’s a bridge between centuries.
In the end, The House of All Sorrows does what great horror should. It sticks with you, a persistent shadow in the corner of your mind. Consider this your prescription. A dose of Gadz’s narrative that splits your reading experience clean in two. You’ll be half desperate to recommend it to everyone, and half tempted to Hyde it away for yourself. The perfect novel for anyone who likes their horror with a side of pedigree and a full measure of glorious, gruesome invention.
The House of All Sorrows by Richard Gadz
FROM THE WINNER OF THE NEXT GENERATION INDIE BOOK AWARD FOR HORROR AND THE BIBA® AWARD FOR PARANORMAL FICTION COMES ANOTHER BLOOD-STAINED PAGE IN THE “GOTHICS UNDEAD” SERIESFrederick and Lady Violet Jekyll cordially invite you
to a celebration of Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee,
June 1897
Jekyll is a man with a horrible, guilty secret. The results of the sinister experiments he conducts in the basement of Westwych House, the Jekylls’ country home in Somerset, are known only to a handful of people. All his family ever see is a dedicated scientist. All his servants ever hear are screams in the dead of night.
As guests gather for a genteel weekend, a web of events entangles a young historian in local legends of monsters and werewolves, and Frederick Jekyll’s nightmare past prepares to wreak bloody revenge on everyone present at Westwych House.
The House Of All Sorrows is a gothic chiller weaving elements of classics by Robert Louis Stevenson and H.G.Wells into a grisly, emotive story about eco-ethics and the endurance of love.
Why Ginger Nuts of Horror is a Top Destination for Horror Book Reviews
For dedicated fans searching for their next great scare, finding a trustworthy and passionate source for horror book reviews is essential. Look no further than Ginger Nuts of Horror, a cornerstone of the dark fiction community that has been delivering insightful and enthusiastic coverage for over 16 years.
Driven by a genuine love for the genre, the site offers far more than simple plot summaries. It provides a deep dive into the emotional and thematic heart of horror, exploring the feelings that make these stories so powerful and resonant.
What makes Ginger Nuts of Horror an indispensable resource for horror readers?
- In-Depth Horror Book Reviews: Find thoughtful, critical analyses that help you discover your next favourite read, from mainstream hits to hidden gems.
- Exclusive Author Interviews: Go behind the pages with fascinating interviews that explore the creative minds and processes behind the genre’s most renowned and emerging horror authors.
- A Commitment to the Genre: The site is renowned for highlighting innovative and boundary-pushing dark fiction, ensuring you stay on the pulse of what’s new and exciting.
Founded by Jim Mcleod, Ginger Nuts of Horror has grown from a passion project into an award-nominated, credible hub for a global community of readers. It’s a place built on a shared joy for horror, making it the perfect guide to help you navigate the vast and thrilling world of horror literature.
If you want to stay informed, inspired, and connected to the heartbeat of the genre, Ginger Nuts of Horror is your ultimate resource. Explore the site today and join a community that lives and breathes dark fiction.
