The Housemaid

From the moment I started The Housemaid, I felt myself getting pulled in. The setup is strong: Millie, an ex-convict, down on her luck, with very few options, takes a job as a live-in housemaid for the Winchester family on Long Island. On paper, it’s a familiar neighborhood in psychological thrillers—wealthy family, dark secrets, isolation—but McFadden doesn’t let it stay predictable for long. Threads begin loose, hints dropped, tension builds, and before you realize it, you’re wrapped up in gaslighting, power plays, confusion, and danger.

I’ll walk through what worked really well, what felt weaker, and ultimately whether I think the book delivers.

What works

1. Pacing & Momentum
   The first half of the book does a good job setting everything up. The chapters are relatively short, which helps maintain tension. Every time Millie encounters something strange—or Nina acts unpredictably—you get that little jolt: “Okay, something is off here.” It’s not just suspense for suspense’s sake; McFadden uses these moments to gradually deepen character mystery. I found that once I passed the 100-page mark, I couldn’t stop: I had to see what was beneath the surface.

2. Atmosphere & Suspicion
   There’s a creeping dread that the Winchester home is not just hiding secrets, but actively suffocating Millie (and Nina) with “normalcy.” The way McFadden depicts wealth, façade, and control is chilling because it feels plausible. Nina’s “perfect wife, perfect mother” mask cracks in a way that’s believable, and Millie, with her past, is vulnerable enough—but also resourceful enough—to make the tension sting. The contrast between the opulent house, the elite social trappings, and what goes on behind closed doors is sharp, and it gives the novel its emotional weight.

3. Themes of Abuse, Power, and Gaslighting
   What I liked most was how the novel didn’t shy from describing not just physical danger but the psychological toll of abuse. Andrew’s control over Nina—through punishment, through locking her up, through lies—is frighteningly realistic in many ways (not exact, but the dynamic). And Millie’s struggle, both internal and external, reminds readers how people get trapped: by money, by fear, by shame. The book also explores socioeconomic vulnerability: Millie’s criminal record, her desperation, her lack of options—that all shapes how she reacts, what risks she takes (or fails to take), and makes the stakes feel real.

4. Twists and Reveals
   Without spoiling, there are some major reveals in the second half that reframe earlier events. I appreciated that the author planted enough seeds to make those twists feel more earned—not totally out of nowhere. The turning points made me want to reread earlier chapters in my head, seeing the clues I’d missed. The ending, while dramatic and maybe a bit over the top in places, gave a payoff. For the kind of thriller this is, that matters: if you promise a twist, better there be a twist.

5. Readability & Escape Value
   This book is easy to get through. That’s not to say superficial—it still has depth in its themes—but it doesn’t demand heavy attention or complex worldbuilding. It’s entertaining. If you want something you can finish in a few sittings, something that pulls you out of daily life, this does that job very, very well. Also, for better or worse, there are moments of drama, of emotional highs and lows, that make you feel things, even if you’re also rolling your eyes at some of the more melodramatic parts.

What doesn’t work as well

1. Character Depth & Credibility
   Millie is a compelling protagonist in many ways, but I had moments where her choices felt frustratingly naïve. Some readers might say she overlooks red flags too willingly, or behaves in ways that stretch plausibility. It’s almost like the plot demands her to be in constant danger without reasonable skepticism. That makes for drama, but sometimes it makes her more of a plot device than a fully rounded person.

   Nina is similarly intriguing, but there are times when her breakdowns or behavior feel a little exaggerated—just far enough over the edge that it becomes melodrama rather than nuance. It doesn’t break the book, but it keeps it from being excellent in character study.

2. Writing Style & Dialogue
   The prose is mostly functional and straightforward, which helps keep the pace fast. But occasionally I found the writing a little unpolished: repetitive descriptions, moments when the dialogue sounded stilted or emotionally on the nose. There were times I thought, “Did I just read this same internal monologue a few pages ago, but slightly rephrased?” Those moments slowed me down.

   Also, some romantic or “tension” parts felt forced—Millie comparing men, fixating on attractiveness, behaving in ways that felt more manufactured for tension than organic to the character.

3. Suspension of Disbelief & Realism
   As is common in domestic thrillers, you have to accept some things that are a bit implausible. The locked rooms, the ease with which some characters behave (or fail to act), some coincidences or timing of reveals—all require you to lean into “fiction mode.” That’s fine if you like your thriller more wild ride than tightly realistic, but if you prefer things super grounded, this might frustrate.

4. Predictability in Some Threads
   While the big reveals hit, some of the smaller reveals or character arcs can be telegraphed. A few readers will see hints long before they become explicit. Sometimes this makes parts of the buildup less surprising. Also, because McFadden leans on certain genre conventions, parts of the book feel very familiar: the mansion with secrets, the emotionally unstable wife, the outsider coming into the household. If you’re very familiar with domestic/psychological thrillers, you might guess some of the beats in advance.

Overall Impression & Recommendation

At the end of the day, The Housemaid is not going to win prizes for literary subtlety, but it does achieve what it sets out to do: it thrills, it creeps you out, it makes you wonder and worry, and it delivers twists with impact.

For me, it was a more than satisfying read. It paced me through a weekend, made me stay up later than intended, and had me thinking about the characters (especially Millie and Nina) afterwards. Some of their dynamics stayed with me—the way power can be so quietly abusive, how desperation and trauma shape what someone is willing to endure, how secrets under a roof can weigh more than anything outside.

If I were ranking it:

• For sheer “page-turner entertainment”: 5/5

• For character complexity & realism: 3.5/5

• For originality: 3/5 (because many parts feel familiar, though still done well)

• For emotional impact: 4/5

Who will like this, who might not

If this sounds like your kind of book:

• You like domestic or psychological thrillers where the danger is often emotional, not necessarily with gore or horror.

• You don’t mind bending reality a little (plot twists, extreme behavior) if it means a bigger payoff.

• You want a fast read, something that feels cinematic, almost like you’re watching tension escalate in real time.

• You appreciate themes of power, of abuse (especially psychological), of unstable marriages, secrets in families, someone trying to climb out of desperation.

If this is not your cup of tea:

• You like realism above all—complex, deeply nuanced characters whose every choice feels grounded.

• You dislike predictable tropes or find melodrama off-putting.

• You want prose that is literary, poetic, or stylistically ambitious rather than straightforward.

• You hate feeling manipulated by plot twists (i.e. when you think: “there’s no way someone would really do that”).

Final Thoughts

I closed the book satisfied, though not without reservation. The Housemaid isn’t perfect—but it doesn’t need to be. Its power lies in the ride: the steadily rising tension, the moments of horror once the facades drop, the way you can sometimes see the pieces falling into place—and then McFadden tweaks one of those pieces and messes up what you thought you knew.

It’s a book that stays with you because of what it suggests, not always what it explicitly shows. The horror isn’t just in the locked doors, but in what people are capable of behind them: control, manipulation, cruelty.

If someone asked me whether to read this, I’d say yes—especially if you want something gripping to binge, something you’ll talk about with friends after finishing. But go in knowing it’s less about realism, and more about tension, thrills, and emotional intensity.