You might remember your friends here at #BookSquadGoals reviewing one of Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s previous novels, Gods of Jade and Shadow, in a podcast episode. This book… is not that book. This one is very different.

One of the things that is so intriguing to me about Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s work is her willingness to try different genres. Gods of Jade and Shadow is a play on Mayan mythology set in Mexico during the jazz age. Earlier this year, she came out with a thriller novel called Untamed Shore. And in this, her SECOND novel of 2020, Moreno-Garcia taps into gothic horror.

But was it any good? And what does it mean for something to be Mexican gothic? And can I manage to talk about this book without spoiling anything? And what the heck did I just read?

My answers to follow. And yes, I am going to try to avoid spoilers here. Wish me luck.

Alright so. Noemí Taboada is a wealthy socialite living it up in the city, going to fabulous parties and wearing extravagant dresses to every occasion, even if it’s just to go downstairs to eat breakfast. For real though.

Then she gets a distressing letter from her cousin Catalina, who married a white man and moved off to his big spooky old house in the countryside to live happily ever after. Except it’s not happily ever after because now Catalina is writing to her cousin saying that she’s afraid she’s going to die and she needs help ASAP.

So Noemí travels to see her cousin at this old scary mansion that’s falling apart and filled with white people. And if you’re starting to get Get Out vibes, you are absolutely on the right track. But since Get Out was spoiled for me by all of the trailers, I’m not going to do that to you. I’m just going to give you a little wink and this gif. Ta-da.

Everything you need for a good gothic story is here. The setting for the novel, High Place, is literally falling apart. I was kind of picturing the big mansion with the giant hole in the ceiling from Crimson Peak. This book takes place in the 1950’s, but there’s no electricity in the house. The family of High Place is so white they glow in the dark, so they don’t need lights at night, apparently.

But for real. This family made all of their money in a mining business that died out years ago, and now they’re just… rotting in their old house I guess? You quickly see why getting in with Noemí’s wealthy family would be appealing to this lot. But that’s just the beginning.

I’m biting my tongue from here on out because I was very surprised by this novel, and I wouldn’t want to ruin that for anyone else. But one thing I do want to talk about is the title Mexican Gothic, and what about this book makes it particularly Mexican, especially since I’ve read some reviews that say this book is not Mexican enough.

When we meet Noemí at the beginning of the novel, she is getting ready to go to grad school and is clearly very smart, but she’s led a sheltered life. Due to her position as a woman from a wealthy family, she hasn’t had to come face-to-face with the harsher realities that many underprivileged people experience. Until now.

At High Place, the very white, very English members of this family quickly put Noemí in her place due to her race and gender. This family loves to comment on Noemí’s skin tone in comparison to her cousin Catalina, whose background is more European. And they love to tell her what she can and cannot do. For instance, she’s not supposed to speak at the dinner table, and she’s not allowed to go into town without her cousin’s brother-in-law Francis escorting her.

And again… without giving too much away… At High Place, Noemí also learns of the many ways this English family has colonized Mexican people and used their bodies for labor in their home and in the mines, far beyond what would be considered ethical. Additionally, she sees how the men of High Place have colonized women’s bodies for their own desires and plans. I know all of this is really ambiguous, but trust me, you want to be surprised with this one.

My point in saying this, however, is that I think what makes this book particularly a Mexican Gothic horror story is the ways in which it explores issues of racism, colonization, classism, and sexism that seem particular to Mexican history. There’s also a lot of creepy eugenics talk in this novel, which, to be fair, is horrifying in any country.

Mexican Gothic is on one of those novels that took me a while to get into. At first, the gothic elements seemed a little heavy-handed. Like, really? Only candlelight in a house in the 1950s? But once the novel really gets going, all the pieces fall into place, and the slowness of the first pages of the novel really pays off in the end. And if you’re wondering if this is really a horror novel in the true sense of the word, I would say 100% it is. Just wait for it.

My main critique would be the romance storyline, which wouldn’t bother me so much if it was left in the background, but the way this novel ends brings the romance to the foreground in a way that didn’t feel earned. And maybe even felt a little (to use a technical term) icky.

But if you’re looking for a novel that’s got the camp of Crimson Peak, the horror of Get Out, and a whole lot Gothic lit homages to novels like Jane Eyre and Rebecca, please check this out.

If you read Mexican Gothic and have thoughts about it, I would love to have a spoiler-filled chat with you about it. There’s definitely a point in the book where you get to it and think, “Wait… WHAT?” And maybe you’ll do I like I did and scream aloud. It’s a surprise that’s earned, however, and I’m really pleased with the turns the book took.

Read it and get back with me, people!