The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters PDF Download

ONE

rst saw Hundreds Hall when I was ten years old. It was the

summer after the war, and the Ayreses still had most of their

money then, were still big people in the district. The event was an

Empire Day fête: I stood with a line of other village children

making a Boy Scout salute while Mrs Ayres and the Colonel went

past us, handing out commemorative medals; afterwards we sat to

tea with our parents at long tables on what I suppose was the

south lawn. Mrs Ayres would have been twenty-four or -ve, her

husband a few years older; their little girl, Susan, would have

been about six. They must have made a very handsome family,

but my memory of them is vague. I recall most vividly the house

itself, which struck me as an absolute mansion. I remember its

lovely ageing details: the worn red brick, the cockled window

glass, the weathered sandstone edgings. They made it look blurred

and slightly uncertain—like an ice, I thought, just beginning to

melt in the sun.

There were no trips inside, of course. The doors and French

windows stood open, but each had a rope or a ribbon tied across

it; the lavatories set aside for our use were the grooms' and the

gardeners', in the stable block. My mother, however, still had

friends among the servants, and when the tea was nished and

people were given the run of the grounds, she took me quietly

into the house by a side door, and we spent a little time with the

cook and the kitchen girls. The visit impressed me terribly. The

kitchen was a basement one, reached by a cool vaulted corridor

with something of the feel of a castle dungeon. An extraordinary

number of people seemed to be coming and going along it with

hampers and trays. The girls had such a mountain of crockery to

wash, my mother rolled up her sleeves to help them; and to my

very great delight, as a reward for her labour I was allowed to

take my pick of the jellies and ‘shapes’ that had come back

uneaten from the fête. I was put to sit at a deal-topped table, and

given a spoon from the family's own drawer—a heavy thing of

dulled silver, its bowl almost bigger than my mouth.

But then came an even greater treat. High up on the wall of the

vaulted passage was a junction-box of wires and bells, and when

one of these bells was set ringing, calling the parlourmaid

upstairs, she took me with her, so that I might peep past the green

baize curtain that separated the front of the house from the back.

I could stand and wait for her there, she said, if I was very good

and quiet. I must only be sure to keep behind the curtain, for if

the Colonel or the missus were to see me, there'd be a row.

I was an obedient child, as a rule. But the curtain opened onto

the corner junction of two marble-oored passages, each one

lled with marvellous things; and once she had disappeared softly

in one direction, I took a few daring steps in the other. The thrill

of it was astonishing. I don't mean the simple thrill of trespass, I

mean the thrill of the house itself, which came to me from every

surface—from the polish on the oor, the patina on wooden

chairs and cabinets, the bevel of a looking-glass, the scroll of a

frame. I was drawn to one of the dustless white walls, which had

a decorative plaster border, a representation of acorns and leaves.

I had never seen anything like it, outside of a church, and after a

second of looking it over I did what strikes me now as a dreadful

thing: I worked my ngers around one of the acorns and tried to

prise it from its setting; and when that failed to release it, I got

out my penknife and dug away with that. I didn't do it in a spirit

of vandalism. I wasn't a spiteful or destructive boy. It was simply

that, in admiring the house, I wanted to possess a piece of it—or

rather, as if the admiration itself, which I suspected a more

ordinary child would not have felt, entitled me to it. I was like a

man, I suppose, wanting a lock of hair from the head of a girl he

had suddenly and blindingly become enamoured of.

Overview

The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters

The Little Stranger, a novel by Sarah Waters, explores the haunting atmosphere of post-World War II England through the eyes of Dr. Faraday, who becomes entangled with the Ayres family at Hundreds Hall. As he revisits the once-grand estate, he uncovers dark secrets and unsettling occurrences that challenge his rational beliefs. Themes of class, decay, and the supernatural intertwine, creating a gripping narrative that captivates readers. This book is ideal for fans of gothic fiction and those interested in psychological thrillers. Waters' masterful storytelling and rich character development make this a compelling read. Key Points Explores themes of class and decay in post-war England Features Dr. Faraday's complex relationship with the Ayres family Incorporates supernatur…

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FAQs

What is the significance of the acorn in The Little Stranger?

The acorn symbolizes the narrator's desire to possess a piece of the grand house, Hundreds Hall, which he admires. During a visit as a child, he is drawn to the decorative plaster border of acorns and, in an impulsive act, attempts to remove one. This act reflects his admiration and longing for the beauty of the house, as well as a sense of entitlement to it. However, the acorn ultimately represents a moment of childhood innocence and the consequences of his actions, as it leads to disappointment and his mother's emotional reaction when she discovers it.

How does the narrator describe his first visit to Hundreds Hall?

The narrator recalls his first visit to Hundreds Hall as a ten-year-old during an Empire Day fête. He describes the house as a mansion with lovely aging details, such as worn red brick and weathered sandstone edgings. The visit leaves a strong impression on him, particularly the kitchen, which he likens to a castle dungeon, filled with bustling activity. His excitement builds as he explores the house, culminating in a thrilling moment of trespass when he tries to remove a decorative acorn from the wall, highlighting his fascination with the grandeur of the estate.

What changes occur at Hundreds Hall after the Ayres family experiences tragedy?

After the tragedy of the Ayres family's daughter dying, Hundreds Hall begins to decline. The family becomes less public, and the narrator notes that the following Empire Day fête is hosted by another family, indicating a shift in social standing. The narrator recalls the births of Colonel Ayres' next two children, but by then, he is preoccupied with his own life. Eventually, Colonel Ayres dies, and the house becomes even more isolated, with the gates kept closed and the property withdrawing further from the world.

How does the narrator feel about the changes he sees at Hundreds Hall years later?

Upon returning to Hundreds Hall nearly thirty years later, the narrator is appalled by the changes he sees. The once grand house appears smaller and is showing signs of decay, with sections of the weathered edgings fallen away and the grounds overgrown. He feels a sense of loss and nostalgia, as the house no longer resembles the magnificent place of his childhood memories. The deterioration of the estate reflects the decline of the Ayres family and evokes a deep emotional response from the narrator.

What role does the character of Roderick Ayres play in the story?

Roderick Ayres is introduced when the narrator, now a doctor, is called to attend to one of the family's maids. He is depicted as a handsome but scarred young man, having suffered injuries in a wartime accident. His demeanor is somewhat languid and bored, suggesting a life of privilege that has been marred by personal tragedy. Roderick's interactions with the narrator reveal the family's struggles and their detachment from the outside world, as he expresses skepticism about needing a doctor, reflecting their tendency to manage without outside help.