Mexican Gothic, by Silvia Moreno-Garcia (Del Rey)
Slowly building but gripping from the start, this Gothic horror tale set in 1950s Mexico is just the sort of brilliantly executed, engaging tale you’d expect from the author of Gods of Jade and Shadow. It’s gorgeous, sensual, and incredibly creepy, at times reminding me of all the tales and movies in which fungus is the agent of evil or at least creepiness. (Remember Brian Lumley’s story, “Fruiting Bodies”? Or Molly Tanzer’s more recent novel, Creatures of Want and Ruin?) Here Moreno-Garcia has given these elements and the trope of the sinister Gothic mansion her own flair and flavor.
Noemí Taboada ventures to a big, spooky mansion after her newly married cousin sends a desperate, if incoherent, message. We know, of course, that all is not as it appears to be in this realm of shabby British expatriate gentility. There’s the ancient, decaying, bed-ridden patriarch, the cousin’s charismatic but sadistically manipulative husband, the hyper-controlling aunt, and the pale, poetic nephew who draws beautiful sketches of fungi. But Noemí is no ordinary Gothic heroine, she’s a modern (well, 1950s modern) woman with scholarly aspirations, a talent for controlling social situations through flirtation, the ability to drive a car, and an impetuous fearlessness that gets her out of trouble as often as it gets her in. Yet even her forthrightness and independence are not enough to render her immune from the slow intoxication of the mansion, High Place, and its inhabitants. Fungal spores are in the air she breathes, the food she eats, even the wallpaper of her bedroom, and it’s only a matter of time before she succumbs.
From the breezy opening scenes to the slowly building creepiness to the utterly horrific page-turner climax, Mexican Gothic delivers on its promise. It held my imagination in its fungal-laced grip.
This award-worthy novel is definitely not for reading late at night if you intend to get any sleep!
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