Claire Ackroyd’s debut psychological thriller The Surfacing emerges from the depths like a creature from Loch Ness itself—unexpected, unsettling, and impossible to ignore. This meticulously crafted novel weaves together family dysfunction, long-buried secrets, and the suffocating weight of guilt into a narrative that grips readers from the opening line: “No one was meant to die. It was my sister’s wedding, after all, and my mother didn’t want to spoil the day with a corpse.”
The novel centers on Stephanie, a twenty-seven-year-old artist living in self-imposed exile in the Scottish Highlands, who reluctantly returns for her estranged sister Aurelie’s wedding. Twelve years earlier, teenager Peter Ferguson drowned in Loch Ness on the same night the family was camping on its shores—a tragedy that shattered their lives and drove the sisters apart. When anonymous threats suggest someone knows more about that fateful night than they should, what begins as a family reunion transforms into a deadly reckoning with the past.
Character Development: Flawed Humanity at Its Finest
Ackroyd demonstrates remarkable skill in creating deeply flawed yet compelling characters. Stephanie emerges as an unreliable narrator whose bitterness and isolation make her simultaneously sympathetic and unsettling. Her voice carries the weight of someone who has spent years nursing grudges and justifying increasingly dark thoughts. The author captures the complexity of sibling rivalry with devastating accuracy—Aurelie’s superficial perfection masking deeper vulnerabilities, while Stephanie’s intellectual superiority barely conceals her desperate need for connection.
The supporting cast feels equally authentic. Sarah, Aurelie’s school friend, embodies the casual cruelty of adolescence that follows people into adulthood. Mike, the best man harboring his own secrets, provides glimpses into how guilt manifests differently in each person. Even minor characters like Kirsty, Peter’s grieving mother, are rendered with careful attention to their individual pain and motivations.
What sets Ackroyd apart is her refusal to provide easy redemption arcs. These characters remain stubbornly human throughout—capable of both kindness and cruelty, often within the same scene. Stephanie’s relationship with Jennifer, the bullied school friend whose removal from her life becomes a catalyst for her unraveling, showcases Ackroyd’s understanding of how trauma shapes personality in unexpected ways.
Narrative Structure: A Masterclass in Tension Building
The novel’s structure proves particularly effective, alternating between the wedding weekend in 2017 and flashbacks to the summer of 2005. This dual timeline creates mounting tension as readers gradually understand the connections between past and present. Ackroyd employs a technique reminiscent of Agatha Christie but with modern psychological depth—each revelation recontextualizes earlier scenes, forcing readers to question their assumptions about character motivations.
The time-stamped chapters during the wedding weekend create an almost real-time urgency. As Saturday evening approaches, the ticking clock becomes almost audible. This structural choice heightens the psychological pressure, making readers feel trapped alongside the characters at this increasingly claustrophobic celebration.
The author’s use of foreshadowing deserves particular praise. Seemingly innocent details—lilies at the wedding, Stephanie’s utility knife for sharpening pencils, her mother’s deteriorating health—all become significant as the narrative unfolds. This layered approach rewards careful readers while maintaining accessibility for those simply seeking a compelling thriller.
Atmospheric Excellence: The Scottish Highlands as Character
Ackroyd’s background as an economist-turned-writer brings unexpected benefits to her descriptive passages. Her depiction of the Scottish Highlands feels both romantically beautiful and subtly threatening. Loch Ness becomes more than mere setting—it’s a character in its own right, holding secrets and reflecting the characters’ internal states.
The author captures the claustrophobic nature of small communities where everyone knows everyone else’s business, yet massive secrets can still fester for years. The contrast between the wedding’s forced celebration and the underlying tensions creates an atmosphere thick with unspoken accusations and barely contained violence.
Water imagery permeates the novel, from Stephanie’s cold-water swimming to the fatal confrontation at the lake. Ackroyd uses this motif skillfully, connecting themes of cleansing, drowning, and revelation. The metaphor of things “surfacing” works on multiple levels—physical evidence emerging from water, repressed memories rising to consciousness, and hidden truths finally coming to light.
Psychological Depth: Exploring the Nature of Guilt and Justice
Where The Surfacing by Claire Ackroyd truly excels is in its exploration of moral ambiguity. Ackroyd refuses to provide clear heroes or villains, instead presenting characters whose actions stem from understandable motivations even when they’re morally questionable. Stephanie’s vigilante justice regarding Peter Ferguson’s death raises uncomfortable questions about the nature of justice and revenge.
The novel examines how trauma reverberates through families and communities, showing how one tragic event can poison relationships for decades. The author’s portrayal of sibling relationships—particularly the toxic dynamic between Stephanie and Aurelie—feels authentically painful. Their inability to communicate directly about their shared trauma reflects how families often fail each other at crucial moments.
Ackroyd also explores themes of social class and bullying with nuanced understanding. Jennifer’s treatment at school and Stephanie’s helpless rage at injustice provide insight into how powerlessness in adolescence can create destructive patterns in adulthood. The novel suggests that sometimes the victims of bullying can become the most dangerous perpetrators of violence.
Critical Analysis: Areas for Improvement
Despite its many strengths, The Surfacing by Claire Ackroyd occasionally struggles with pacing in its middle sections. Some flashback sequences, particularly those detailing school dynamics, feel slightly overwrought compared to the taut tension of the wedding weekend chapters. The novel might have benefited from tighter editing in these areas.
Additionally, while Stephanie’s unreliable narration serves the story well, some readers may find her voice increasingly unsympathetic as her true nature becomes apparent. This isn’t necessarily a flaw—unreliable narrators should challenge readers—but it may limit the novel’s appeal for those seeking more traditionally heroic protagonists.
The resolution, while shocking, raises questions about justice and comeuppance that some readers may find unsatisfying. Ackroyd commits fully to her dark vision, but this may leave readers wanting more conventional closure.
Writing Style: Precise Prose with Emotional Resonance
Ackroyd’s prose style demonstrates the precision one might expect from someone with an economics background, but infused with genuine emotional intelligence. Her sentences have weight and purpose, with carefully chosen details that serve both character development and plot advancement. The author shows particular skill in capturing the rhythm of family conversations—the way people dance around difficult topics, using shared history as both weapon and shield.
The dialogue feels authentic without becoming overly naturalistic. Characters speak in distinct voices that reflect their personalities and backgrounds. Stephanie’s internal monologue, with its mixture of self-justification and genuine insight, carries the novel effectively even when her actions become increasingly disturbing.
Similar Reads and Recommendations
Readers who appreciate The Surfacing by Claire Ackroyd will likely enjoy other psychological thrillers that examine family dysfunction and buried secrets:
- In the Woods by Tana French – Another debut that combines beautiful prose with disturbing revelations about childhood trauma
- Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn – Features a similarly unreliable narrator returning home to confront family secrets
- The Silent Companion by Laura Purcell – Gothic atmosphere and questions about mental reliability
- Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng – Family secrets and the weight of unspoken truths
- The Lie Tree by Frances Hardinge – Though YA, it shares themes of truth, lies, and family reputation
For readers interested in Scottish settings, The Thursday Murder Club series by Richard Osman or The Inspector Rebus series by Ian Rankin provide different but equally compelling takes on British crime fiction.
Author Background and Future Potential
The Surfacing represents Claire Ackroyd’s transition from economics to creative writing, a change that clearly benefits from her analytical background. Born in Washington DC and raised in the UK, she studied at Cambridge University and LSE before working as an economist. Her acknowledgments reveal extensive involvement in writing competitions and creative writing programs, suggesting a methodical approach to developing her craft.
As a debut novelist, Ackroyd shows remarkable confidence in handling complex themes and morally ambiguous characters. Her background in cold-water swimming and love of cryptic crosswords hints at someone comfortable with both physical and intellectual challenges—qualities that serve her well in crafting this multilayered thriller.
Final Verdict: A Compelling Debut with Lasting Impact
The Surfacing by Claire Ackroyd succeeds as both an engaging thriller and a serious examination of family trauma. Ackroyd has created a novel that works on multiple levels—as a page-turning mystery, a psychological character study, and a meditation on justice and revenge. While not without minor flaws, the book establishes its author as a voice worth following in the psychological thriller genre.
The novel’s greatest strength lies in its refusal to provide easy answers or comfortable resolutions. Like the best psychological thrillers, it leaves readers questioning their own moral certainties while delivering the visceral satisfaction of a well-constructed plot. Ackroyd proves that debut novels can indeed make a significant splash, even when they emerge from waters as dark and mysterious as Loch Ness itself.
This is psychological suspense at its finest—intelligent, atmospheric, and genuinely unsettling. Readers seeking their next obsession in the crime thriller genre need look no further than these murky Scottish waters.
