“It wasn’t like I didn’t know Cordelia Manor was haunted, or that the main spirit was a hateful son of a bitch…” – Adam J. Ridley, Cordelia Manor
LIKE with most stories, whether generated through fiction or film, when someone inherits a grand manor house, it’s almost guaranteed that this place has some generational or historical mystery, secret and/or tragedy attached to it; Adam J. Ridley’s Cordelia Manor, part of “Haunted Hearts,” the own-voices gay paranormal romance series, is no exception. And boy, does this haunting tale deliver. It delves into the classic “haunted house” setup yet introduces an unexpected queer twist that refreshes the narrative and invites a deeper exploration of its eerie elements.
With Cordelia Manor, Ridley has crafted a tense and eerie atmosphere that kept me delightfully “on edge.” I was immersed (along with his characters) in a house—no, in a world filled with suspense and chilling details.
Evan Garland’s unexpected inheritance of the sprawling estate, Cordelia Manor, arrives at a perfect moment, providing him an opportunity to escape the shadows of his past and his toxic ex. Upon his arrival, he encounters Cary Beacroft, the captivating caretaker of the Manor, whose hunky presence and warmth instantly draw him in. Yet, beyond the intricate architecture and rich history of the Manor itself, Evan discovers something even more precious—a newfound family of sorts formed through unexpected bonds and shared experiences.
The story is a beautiful tapestry woven with threads of romance, homoeroticism, and atmospheric paranormal fantasy, including witchcraft, haunting sounds and sensations, and, of course, ghosts.
But for me, the most compelling story element is Ridley’s contemporary queer take on the trope of familial/generational secrets: the dark and troubled past. More specifically, a gay love story from the past that was the bane of a resentful, bitter man, which led to inevitable tragedy—one that must be brought to light and somehow rectified in the present, with these two men, Evan and Cary.
Ridley brilliantly navigates between two pivotal gay love stories, both unfolding against a backdrop of societal challenges and personal struggles. The historic one culminates in an event so profound that it leaves deep scars which permeate the metaphysical plane, pulsating within the walls of Cordelia Manor.
Evan navigates his way through the intricacies of managing the Manor and contemplating the direction of his own queer authentic life; waves of self-doubt often beset him. However, as he breathes new life into the Manor, he embarks on a journey of personal revival. His realization that he cannot shoulder this spectral burden alone becomes evident; Cary transcends his role as caretaker, emerging as a steadfast ally and supporter in this quest for emotional renewal and freedom from ghostly affliction.
Their romance’s slow, natural evolution is a joy to witness. Each shared moment deepens their connection, culminating in an intimacy that feels meant to be. Is this something especially profound, more than just good timing and chemistry? Is this a “fated love?”
As Evan immerses himself in the layers of his family’s past, the long-hidden mysteries of the Manor and its
haunting spirits begin to unravel before him. Cary’s connection to the supernatural, to witchcraft and spell work, adds a delightful twist to the narrative, revealing a rich world of magic and camaraderie, a desire to help. It’s heartwarming to see Evan forge alliances that bolster his spirit and encourage his metamorphosis, ultimately leading him to realize the true meaning of belonging and love.
Cordelia Manor beautifully captures the supportive essence of found family, intertwining it with a heartfelt exploration of hurt and comfort. Cary takes on a nurturing role, guiding Evan through the emotional turmoil from the damage inflicted by a past toxic relationship. I appreciate that Ridley refrains from portraying his protagonists as “broken.” Instead, he depicts them as complex yet often lost, searching for healing, belonging, acceptance, etc. In my viewpoint, no one is being “fixed” or “rescued.”
This is a journey of self-actualization and fulfillment. It’s a search for the love of oneself, leading to an easier time accepting and trusting love (all forms, but especially romantic) from others. It’s refreshing to read about characters who have experienced trauma without the author resorting to the commonly used trope of them being “broken.” I welcome this break from such portrayals.
As I previously stated, the bond of affection between our main protagonists grows tenderly as Cary offers Evan the support he needs. At the same time, Evan, in turn, becomes a source of encouragement, helping Cary recognize his own self-worth and build a stronger sense of self-esteem. This reciprocal healing process between them is touching and resonates deeply, showcasing the transformative power of an emotionally grounding, sharing, and trusting relationship.
Through Ridley’s compelling, page-turning storytelling, Evan learns to stand up for his beliefs and not cower from fear (human-rooted or ghostly!) because of who he is. The author’s emotionally charged dialogue and scenes of energetic drama provide the adventure and opportunity for Evan to learn that love, including love for and from family or chosen family, is essential to his happiness. This is a desire for love without judgment, bias, and unfair expectations.
Through his narrative, Ridley shows that even if your biological family doesn’t accept you (immediately or ever) for who you fundamentally are, you can and should still discover your authentic self and follow your own path while creating a personal support network. It’s a powerful and necessary message, especially for queer people, exposited through a mesmerizing gay paranormal romance tale. Ridley writes with such nuance and passion. Cordelia Manor—wow, what a pleasure this was to read.
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