Book Review: ‘A Study in Drowning’

For the soft girls. The anxious girls. The ones who survived by staying quiet—but now are finally learning to speak.

Jun 18, 2025

What It’s About (In My Own Words)
A Study in Drowning by Ava Reid
Effy Sayre, anxious architecture student and lifelong devotee of the book Angharad, wins the chance to redesign the crumbling seaside mansion of the (now dead) author she idolizes. But when she arrives at Hiraeth Manor—a house that feels like it's rotting from the inside out—Effy discovers a whole tangle of secrets surrounding the author’s legacy, his eccentric son, and a smug literature student named Preston, who’s convinced the author was a fraud. What begins as a dream-come-true quickly morphs into a haunting mystery involving buried truths, academic elitism, and a fairytale that might be far darker than she ever imagined.

There’s a crumbling manor on a cliffside, a storm rolling in off the sea, and a girl who’s been told all her life that she’s too fragile, too foolish, too female to belong in the rooms where knowledge is shaped and stories are written. But she walks in anyway. That’s where A Study in Drowning begins.

This is a deeply atmospheric, gorgeously written dark academia novel that feels like falling into a fever dream—equal parts gothic fairytale and literary mystery. Set in a fictional country shaped by mid-20th-century Wales and steeped in Welsh folklore, the story follows Effy Sayre, an anxious, quietly brilliant architecture student who’s always taken solace in the mythic novel Angharad. When she’s selected to redesign the home of its reclusive (and now deceased) author, it feels like a dream come true. But Hiraeth Manor is no refuge—it’s a decaying, salt-wrecked estate full of secrets and half-truths, and nothing about the late author’s legacy is what it seems.

What sets this novel apart isn’t just the bone-deep eeriness of its setting or the literary puzzle Effy is unravelling—it’s what Ava Reid dares to confront beneath the gothic trappings. A Study in Drowning is a sharp, fearless critique of institutional sexism in academia: how women are seen as too decorative to be taken seriously, yet somehow always to blame for the misdeeds of powerful men. Effy isn’t a sword-wielding heroine or a quick-witted firebrand. She’s tender, terrified, and traumatised—and her quiet survival is revolutionary.

And then there’s the romance: slow-burning, antagonistic, and utterly earned. Preston Heloury—an infuriatingly pragmatic literature scholar with his own axe to grind—starts as a thorn in Effy’s side. But as they team up to uncover the truth about Myrddin and the sinister history buried in the manor’s walls, mutual respect slowly blossoms into something more. Their relationship is built not on instant chemistry but on shared values, vulnerability, and the difficult work of unlearning what the world has taught them about power and trust. It’s a romance that doesn’t save the heroine, but gives her room to save herself.

This is a book that asks not just who owns a story, but who gets to survive it? It’s about the narratives we inherit, the ones we resist, and the ones we dare to write for ourselves.

Reid’s prose is lyrical and haunting, the mystery is twisty and immersive, and the emotional impact? Devastating in the best way. A Study in Drowning is tender, furious, eerie, and empowering—a story for anyone who’s ever been told they were too much or not enough, and dared to keep going anyway.

MOM BRAIN FILTER

I didn’t read A Study in Drowning as a mother—but now that I am one, it reshapes how the story sits with me. I think about Effy differently. Her softness, which I once saw as vulnerability, now reads as strength in survival mode. She’s not dramatic—she’s enduring. She doesn’t yell—she observes. And that has its own power.

Back then, I related to her on the level of anxiety, of being told you’re too much and not enough all at once. Now, I see the broader picture: the way women are taught to second-guess themselves, how institutions manipulate that doubt, how claiming your space—even shakily—is revolutionary.

I also can’t help thinking about how many girls grow up like Effy, and how much I want to raise a daughter who knows better. Who won’t have to unlearn the idea that fragility is failure, or that she’s responsible for how others wield their power. This book reminds me how much the stories we tell—and retell—matter. Especially when we’re trying to raise braver, freer little humans.

READ IF YOU:

Love haunted houses
Want to hug a girl who’s been told to sit down and shut up one too many times

SKIP IF YOU:

You’re not in the headspace for dark themes, including mental illness, sexual assault, and parental abuse

⭐ RULING

Gorgeously written, unflinchingly angry, and utterly immersive. Reid doesn’t just write gothic fantasy—she wields it like a scalpel. Would I press this into the hands of every girl who’s ever been told she’s “too sensitive”? In a heartbeat.

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YOUR TURN

I’ve gushed, I’ve grieved, I’ve screamed into the gothic void—now it’s your turn.

Whether you’ve already wandered the eerie halls of Hiraeth Manor or are just now intrigued by the promise of crumbling cliffs and creeping dread, I want to hear from you:

Is A Study in Drowning already on your TBR?
Does a gothic mystery wrapped in myth, academia, and a slow-burn romance sound like your kind of read?
And while we’re at it—what’s your favourite dark academia novel that absolutely wrecked you (in the best possible way)?

👇 Drop your thoughts in the comments—I’m always collecting recs and emotionally devastating plotlines.