🕯️ GOTHIC. LUSTY. DISORIENTING. 💀 A dark manor, strange rituals, and tangled desires set the stage for a gothic tale full of atmosphere and ambition. When Belle is forced into an arranged marriage with the enigmatic Lord Hellthorne, she finds herself trapped in a crumbling estate where the walls whisper, the dead linger, and love might be the most dangerous force of all. While it didn’t fully come together for me, I was intrigued by the world it tried to build and the emotions it aimed to stir.
This one was a tough read for me, and not in the way I hoped. I went into Lady Hell genuinely excited. The cover, the gothic premise, the eerie manor and supernatural threads... it all sounded like something I’d love. But I struggled to stay grounded in the story, and while I kept hoping it would eventually click, it just never quite did.
The writing style is richly descriptive, which fits the gothic tone, but the prose often swung between overly flowery and oddly simplistic. There were moments that caught me—lines or imagery that worked—but just as often, a beautifully built scene would be undercut by clunky or stilted dialogue that didn’t feel natural or emotionally grounded.
One thing that consistently pulled me out of the story was the way characters were referred to and spoken about. There was a heavy reliance on generic terms like “woman” and “girl,” often used in place of actual names or deeper character insight, and it started to feel impersonal and repetitive. That same repetition showed up in the prose too, particularly in how Belle’s body was described. Words like “bony,” “small,” and “lithe” came up again and again, even in scenes where they didn’t feel emotionally relevant or necessary. She’s described as having a “tiny voice,” and at one point, after an intimate scene, she’s referred to as “the tiny girl” and “little redheaded girl”—moments that felt especially unsettling in context. That kind of language was one of the things that crossed a threshold for me, pushing past characterization into something that felt infantilizing and uncomfortable.
This became hard to ignore because a large part of the story fixates on Belle’s smallness: her frame, her voice, her presence; and while the book does address her disordered eating, the repeated descriptions felt excessive to the point of discomfort. There’s a line between acknowledging a character’s illness and unintentionally romanticizing the symptoms, and this sometimes tipped into the latter. It left me wondering what the intention was, and if the weight of that storyline might have landed better with more interiority and nuance.
The story's frequent, abrupt perspective shifts left me disoriented; more than once I had to pause and work out whose internal voice I was hearing. That uncertainty kept the already-fragile emotional arcs from feeling immersive and the sudden POV jumps combined with the tonal inconsistencies, unnatural dialogue, ans repetitive language, made it hard to stay grounded in the world or form any lasting connection with the characters.
The story aims for third-person omniscient, a mode that can be powerful when handled with care, but to me, the execution falls short. The absence of a strong narrative voice turns the constant perspective changes into mere head-hopping, so I struggled to track events or focus on a single thread long enough to invest emotionally. Because the tone and structure never settle, the novel feels scattered rather than cohesive.
Romance also plays a major role here, but I had trouble buying into it. Relationships seemed to form quickly, and much of the emotional language leaned heavily on lust while calling it love. The sex scenes themselves were vividly written, but often felt abrupt or disconnected from the characters’ arcs. The tone often shifted quickly, from horror to lust to emotional trauma, which made it harder for any one moment to fully land. I think I was hoping for something more emotionally layered or slow-burning... especially in a story where intimacy and trauma intersect so closely.
The plot itself felt tangled. There are so many moving pieces: religious mythology, demonic forces, memory loss, secret pregnancies, murder; that instead of building suspense, I often felt lost. Major reveals sometimes came out of nowhere or lacked the grounding needed to make them feel impactful. Characters often experienced intense events (death, hauntings, revelations) without much emotional follow-up, which left those moments feeling hollow. That sense of disorientation pulled me out of the story more than once.
All that said, I really do see the creative vision behind this. Alyssa Page clearly had a bold concept and a strong aesthetic in mind, and there’s something compelling about the world she’s reaching for. For me personally, the execution didn’t come together in a way that fully worked, but I can see the pieces that might really click for other readers. I found myself wishing for more emotional depth, a clearer sense of the world’s structure, and more time spent developing the relationships and stakes. Still, I’d be interested to see how her voice grows over time, because there’s real imagination here, and I think her future work could resonate more with me.
I think Lady Hell would still work for readers who enjoy gothic romance with a heavy dose of supernatural drama, dark family secrets, and lust-driven relationships. If you’re drawn to atmospheric settings, morally ambiguous characters, and stories that lean into intensity, this would be worth checking out. 🩶
Thank you to Purple Fern Publishing and NetGalley for providing an ARC in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own.