A review by marleyrollins
Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

4.0

What a work of twisted, creeping, crawling genius!

Imagine Rebecca, meets Jane Eyre, meets Jeff Vandermeer, meets Day of The Triffids, meets Lovecraft, and you’re probably starting to get a sense of the strange, compelling nature of this novel.

For fans of the classic Gothic story, this is an absolute must. Garcia borrows very heavily from the genre, so if you’re a huge classic lit nerd like me, you’ll love all the little nods to other literary masterpieces.

The once regal and luxurious mansion, isolated from the world, now rotting and gripped by decay, much like the ruined splendour of Manderley or Wuthering Heights? You’ve got it here.

The creepy cast of characters inhabiting the mansion, including the handsome but chilling Virgil (Edward Rochester meets Heathcliffe meets Manfred from The Castle of Otranto anyone?), the Mrs Danvers-esque lady of the house Florence, and the tyrannical patriarch Howard Doyle, who basically plays into the stereotype of every controlling man in the history of the Gothic, with some racism added in for extra ~spice~? Check. ✅

The idea that the very house itself is haunted and seems to be exhibiting an influence on the people living inside it, which could be ripped straight from the pages of The Haunting of Hill House? Find it here.

And on top of that haunted house horror, the idea that something more undefinably terrifying and heinous is at work; that a cosmic and unknowably ancient evil that defies description and violates the laws of physics is tangling the characters in its knotted web? Lovecraft would be oh-so proud.

Speaking of Lovecraft, this novel manages to weave a deft criticism of racism, eugenics, and the deluded ideals of blood purity into its themes in a way that feels really skilled and nuanced. Obviously, with a title like Mexican Gothic, Garcia clearly signposts that she’s twisting a genre once reserved for white, middle class authors and viewing it through a Latinx lens, and I loved the way that Mexican references added to the text, as well as opened my eyes to a lot of things I had no idea about. The nods to Mexican history, culture and traditions all added fantastic life and texture to the novel and were one of my favourite parts about it, even if I had to stop constantly to Google what certain things were!

Horror has long been a genre associated with racism, with horror legend Lovecraft’s xenophobic rhetoric and obsession with white purity peppered liberally throughout his work, so I loved seeing Garcia skewer this tradition so effectively. When reading, I was really struck by the comparison to the (sadly not that great) show Lovecraft Country, which also does a similar thing through the perspective of black protagonists, and I found myself imagining that the Doyles were similar in appearance and behaviour to the Braithwaite family of the tv show. I’m sure someone far more literary and intelligent than me could write a fantastic literary criticism comparing the two!

There’s also some fantastic class criticism created in this novel, most starkly seen in the comparison between High Place and El Triunfo, as well as the treatment of the mining workers and the servants by the Doyle family. To the Doyles, the miners are just disposable commodities, much like the vacant-eyed, silent servants, but while the Doyles live in a facade of wealth that is rapidly falling apart, the villagers live in a poor yet vibrant and colourful community that is happy to offer help and assistance to those around them, even to the Doyle household who’ve treat their kin terribly.

There were also some really great links to be made between this text and the incredible short story The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins-Gillman, and I think it’s this comparison that Garcia leans most heavily on with fantastic effect. Much like the narrator of the short story, Catalina is trapped in her home and seemingly going mad, believing that the walls are speaking to her and listening in on her conversations, and much like the short story, her husband also dictates her medical care and decides what is ailing her, along with the under-the-thumb Dr Cummins. Both the novel and the short story capture the painful reality of womanhood under patriarchy- feeling suffocated, silenced, and demeaned by the power of men, which is especially prevalent in the time periods of both texts (Victorian era and 1950s). An extra layer of criticism of the patriarchy is also seen in Mexican Gothic in the way race plays a part in the silencing of Catalina- she is seen as inherently worth less than the Doyles due to her Latinx heritage, and so she is belittled even more. This also extends to Noemí, who is looked down on even further for having darker skin than her cousin, and so treat even worse by the white staff and family.

However, now I’ve proselytised about how much I loved this novel, here’s a couple things I wasn’t a huge fan of. First, it definitely felt like the pace slipped slightly in the middle of this book, whereas the beginning and ending were really action packed and transitioned from scene to scene well. Although, being such a short book, I would say this wasn’t too much of an issue.

I also would have liked to see more of the relationship between Catalina and Noemí, considering the entire conceit of the book was that Noemí is sent to High Place to rescue Catalina. While it makes sense as Catalina is unwell, it feels like a shame we don’t get that much interaction between the girls, and so it’s slightly harder to believe the danger that Noemí battles through to try and save her cousin.

That being said, there was lots that I adored about this book. I loved how cinematic it all felt- especially the opening of the book that sets up Noemí’s quest to rescue her cousin; it felt very much like the opening exposition of a thriller film. I also loved the character of Noemí and the way she embodies so many different versions of womanhood, allowing her to be multi-faceted, rather than slipping into a stereotypical portrayal of a heroine. She’s glamorous and feminine, yet she’s also fierce, headstrong and not afraid to get down and dirty when she needs to. She loves the finer things in life like expensive cars and fancy parties, but she also quickly gives up that lifestyle with very little complaint in order to help her family member. She enjoys the company of attractive men, but she doesn’t seem too sold on the idea of commitment, despite the 1950’s backdrop. She’s also incredibly intelligent, but still sensuous and sexy, knowing how to flirt and maximise her appeal to get what she wants, rather than assuming the traditional geeky ‘I’m not like other girls’ wallflower mantle like other smart leading ladies often do.

However, this isn’t me saying that this some huge feminist tract disguised as a fiction novel. The unfortunate thing is that on the whole, I’m not 100% sure if this book would pass the Bechdel test, as other than when Noemí visits a local healer, she rarely talks of anything but Virgil Doyle with Catalina.

Overall, I’m going to give this book 4 stars. I absolutely loved the gross Gothic imagery and I truly devoured this book, however it’s not quite perfect enough to get 5 stars.

I have heard that a Netflix film adaption is coming though, and I CANNOT WAIT to see it. Please please please do it justice!