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‘It was the first time I had ever lain down to rest in Satis House, and sleep refused to come near me. A thousand Miss Havishams haunted me’ CHARLES DICKENS, GREAT EXPECTATIONS

Writer in residence Fictional houses often capture the imagination just as much as the characters that inhabit them – and in some cases, they steal the show Stone pillars guard the entrance. You push open the ivy-tangled gate and walk along the weed-choked lawn that encircles a disused fountain. Climbing the cracked flagstone steps, you see that the front door ahead is open. Inside the large hallway, you take in your surroundings, a row of closed doors that hint at treasures within. From behind one, you hear a whispered conversation. Behind another, smashing glass and raised voices. From the staircase above comes a laugh, swiftly stifled. A floorboard beneath your feet is loose. This house is not real, however. It’s constructed of paper and ink, and all you have to do to discover its secrets is turn the page. Houses in novels hold a fascination for readers – and an attraction for writers – that’s unmatched by other settings. From country mansions to cosy cabins, there’s something about fictional dwellings that invites us to step inside and settle in. But what makes some so memorable? What inspires novelists to construct these imaginary places? And is there a particular type that most appeals, or will readers eagerly consume any wellwritten story simply to reside within its four imaginary walls?

Stars of the story Think of the perfect fictional house. Perhaps your imagination conjures up a large country abode replete with servants running up the back stairs, rambling grounds and smoked kippers on the breakfast table. From the ballrooms of Jane Austen’s Regency mansions, through the echoing passageways of Charles Dickens’ Satis House in Great Expectations and Charlotte Brontë’s gothic Thornfield Hall in Jane Eyre, on to the nostalgia-filled rooms of Evelyn Waugh’s Brideshead and Daphne du Maurier’s Manderley (where, last night, the narrator of Rebecca dreamt she went again), and even the settings of more recent historical novels, such as Ian McEwan’s Atonement, it’s this archetype that seems to exemplify the house in fiction. But what is it about a massive, crumbling pile that attracts readers? Phyllis Richardson, lecturer in English literature at Goldsmiths College, London, and the author of House Of Fiction, an exploration of famous literary dwellings, has a few

ideas: ‘The historical aspect appeals,’ she says. ‘Readers want to know, who were these people, and what were they doing?’ In many of the books mentioned above, there’s at least one character who has a strong emotional tie to the place in question, such as du Maurier’s Rebecca, who (spoiler alert!) refuses to vacate Manderley, even after death. For Phyllis, this is key in evoking that sense of belonging: ‘Authors who do it well make you care about this place as a reader,’ she says. ‘Something about the rooms makes you want to be there.’ A novel that exemplifies this is Howard’s End by EM Forster, one of Phyllis’s favourite works of fiction. Published in 1910, it tells of the connections between three disparate families, but at the emotional heart of the tale is the eponymous building, based upon Forster’s childhood home of Rooks Nest House, in Hertfordshire. ‘I love the way Forster writes about the need for human beings to make connections,’ she says. ‘And for him, they were rooted in a particular living space… He felt strongly that a house could play a role in making people emotionally strong, and that’s always really struck me.’ Of course, not all fictional dwellings tie an emotional knot. ‘Houses do different things in different novels,’ Phyllis adds. ‘I love delving into the author’s motivation – for example, for Agatha Christie, they were puzzles.’ In Christie’s mysteries, a murder might take place in any one of several habitational touchstones, from the mansion up the hill to the humble country vicarage. And even though atmosphere and emotions are subservient in her locations to the clues they provide – the heavy drapes that conceal an identity, the angle from bed to mirror that allows a suspect to be glimpsed – they have nevertheless caught the imagination of millions of readers, and plenty of writers, too. In fact, the house as a stage for sinister goings-on has been a favourite device for novelists both past and present. Ruth Ware is an internationally bestselling author of suspense novels set in memorable locations, from the classic country pile to a luxury yacht. Her first thriller, In A Dark Dark Wood, is set on a hen weekend in a remote Northumberland

THE REAL THING Chance upon the bricks and mortar behind the fiction Menabilly, Cornwall

Words: Stephanie Lam Ruth Ware’s new novel One by One is out now, published by Vintage. House of Fiction: From Pemberley to Brideshead, Great British Houses in Literature and Life, by Phyllis Richardson, is published by Unbound.

OPEN HOUSE

Castle Howard, North Yorkshire

Top tips for creating an impactful abode ‘In an open space, you can’t have canoodling behind the palms,’ says Phyllis. ‘A memorable house needs spaces for things to happen – rooms for mystery and secrets.’ However, perhaps there’s also drama to be created when, like a stage set, no argument can be left unheard and there’s no place to hide.

‘Suddenly a new and secret landscape opened before us,’ writes Evelyn Waugh in Brideshead Revisited, as innocent Charles Ryder is driven by rich, indolent Sebastian Flyte to his ostentatious family pile. In House of Fiction, Phyllis Richardson writes that ‘the baroque extravagance of Castle Howard, near York, informed much of the architectural detail of Waugh’s Brideshead.’ It was also, as she says, ‘a favourite building of Waugh’s’, and was used as the setting for both the 1981 TV adaptation of Brideshead Revisited and the 2008 film. Unlike Menabilly, Castle Howard is open for visitors, so if you fancy lounging in linen by the Atlas Fountain, you can. See castlehoward.co.uk.

Imbue those rooms with feeling

Greenway House, Devon

It’s not enough to describe the rooms, they also need a touch of atmosphere. ‘Ascribe meaning,’ suggests Phyllis. ‘Make the reader feel invested in the rooms.’ For example, what significance does the bird wallpaper hold in the first-floor back bedroom? And why is a once-loved grand piano now covered in a thick layer of dust?

The late-Georgian, white-stuccoed walls of Greenway, whose lawns tumble down to the river Dart, near the south Devon coast, was the author Agatha Christie’s holiday home – ‘a dream house,’ as she described it. The house and grounds became the setting for several fictional murders, including Five Little Pigs and Dead Man’s Folly. Now owned by the National Trust, like Castle Howard, it’s open to visitors. See nationaltrust.org.uk.

Don’t make it too comfortable

As Green Knowe in Lucy M Boston’s children’s books, this is Ruth Ware’s favourite fictional house. ‘I’ve loved it since childhood,’ she says. ‘I think it’s no accident that the house’s name is in the title of the book – the house is the real star.’ These tales of ghosts and magic are based on Boston’s real-life home, The Manor, in Hemingford Grey, Cambridgeshire. Its interiors date from the 12th century, with metre-thick stone walls and just as much atmosphere. ‘I’ve longed to visit for years,’ says Ruth. ‘But part of me has never quite dared in case it doesn’t live up to the magic of my imagined version!’ See greenknowe.co.uk.

Include plenty of rooms

The Manor, Cambridgeshire

There might be feather beds and tea on the terrace at four o’clock, but with no friction, there’s no story. Emotional tension should crackle between the inhabitants, with family discord reflected in the rooms in which they play out. And for those who prefer a darker turn, fictional dwellings have a long history of haunted corridors and shadowy attics where things tend to go bump in the night.

Have fun ‘Imagining ourselves in someone else’s house is a way of trying on their life for size,’ says Ruth. Enjoy living inside your invented space of decadence or decay – become your own architect, and go wild on interiors, without the expense.

ILLUSTRATIONS: GRACE RUSSELL

holiday house built from steel and glass, while her most recent book, One by One, is set in an Alpine chalet. ‘I’ve had a fascination with houses and dwellings since I was small,’ says Ruth. ‘I used to spend hours creating rooms for my dolls, furnishing them with bits and pieces I picked up from car boot sales and junk shops. Unfortunately, I’m not very crafty, so they never turned out the way I wanted them to. Doing the same thing in my imagination is easier and more satisfying.’ Ruth’s love of creating detailed spaces also stems from practicality. ‘I’m a very visual writer in some ways – when I write, I see the scene unfolding in my mind’s eye, so from a practical point of view I have to know how the room or house is laid out in order to imagine people navigating their way around it,’ she explains. ‘Once you start imagining a layout, it’s natural to add details and atmosphere, and start thinking about wallpaper and furniture and windows and gardens. But the other answer is that it takes a long time to write a book – six months to a year, usually – so, as a writer, if I’m going to spend that long living somewhere in my imagination, I’d rather it was somewhere interesting.’ Ruth’s novels all include spaces in which devious occurrences and secret assignations can take place. ‘Exploring houses is really a way of exploring people, and as a writer, putting characters in uncomfortable surroundings is one of the most fun ways of bringing out their true selves,’ she explains. ‘Of course, there’s also the appeal of delving into another person’s life. I think we just have a fascination with how other people live.’ Phyllis agrees: ‘People love snooping through others’ living spaces. Readers get to look in cupboards and under beds. You uncover a story that’s always human.’ She adds that houses in fiction have another important role, in giving the reader a home inside the world an author has created: ‘You know where you are. It locates you… You have ownership when you’re reading about it, and this helps readers become part of the story.’

In the late 1920s, a young woman with a vivid imagination came across an abandoned mansion named Menabilly, in the woods near her family’s Cornish summer home. It’s all crumbling grandeur, moss in the windows and mouse droppings on the damask. But for author Daphne du Maurier, the house is all potential. She’ll spend the next 20 years hankering to live there, and when she does, will use it as the setting for three of her novels, most famously – renamed Manderley – in Rebecca. The house is still privately owned and not open to visitors.