Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

You know that feeling when you’re reading a book and suddenly realize you’ve been holding your breath for the last three pages? That’s “Mexican Gothic” in a nutshell. Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s deliciously creepy novel grabs you by the collar and drags you down into a world of decaying mansions, sinister English transplants, and mushrooms that are decidedly not of the magic variety. Trust me, you’ll never look at a portobello the same way again.

A Stylish Heroine in a House of Horrors

Our protagonist, Noemí Taboada, is the kind of gal who’d rather be sipping cocktails at a jazz club than poking around a moldy old mansion. But when her cousin Catalina sends a distressing letter begging for help, Noemí swoops in like a glamorous avenging angel. Armed with red lipstick, a sharp wit, and an enviable wardrobe, she arrives at High Place ready to rescue her cousin and get back to Mexico City ASAP.

Oh, honey. If only it were that easy.

Welcome to High Place: Check Your Sanity at the Door

High Place is the kind of house that would make the Addams Family say, “You know what? This might be a bit much.” Perched on a foggy mountainside, it’s a crumbling Victorian nightmare complete with peeling wallpaper, mysterious stains, and a seriously disturbing family history. The Doyles, the English clan who inhabit this mold-infested monstrosity, make the Brontë sisters’ creations look like the Brady Bunch.

There’s Howard, the decrepit patriarch with some, um, unsavory ideas about eugenics. Florence, his niece-slash-housekeeper, with all the warmth of a particularly judgmental icicle. Virgil, the darkly handsome cousin who sets off all of Noemí’s danger alarms (while also, embarrassingly, setting off a few other alarms—hey, a girl’s only human). And Francis, the shy youngest son who might be Noemí’s only ally in this house of horrors.

Things That Go Bump (and Slither, and Ooze) in the Night

As Noemí digs deeper into the Doyle family’s twisted history, things get weird. And I mean weird weird. We’re talking fever dreams, hallucinations, and some seriously messed-up mushrooms. Moreno-Garcia crafts an atmosphere of creeping dread that’ll have you side-eyeing that patch of mold in your bathroom. Is it just me, or did it… move?

The genius of “Mexican Gothic” lies in the way it takes familiar gothic tropes and injects them with a dose of hallucinogenic horror. It’s as if Daphne du Maurier and Guillermo del Toro had a literary love child, and that child was raised on a steady diet of 1950s B-movies and really good mescal.

A Fungal Twist on Family Secrets

Without spoiling too much (because trust me, you want to experience this madness firsthand), let’s just say the Doyles have found a unique way to keep it in the family. And by “it,” I mean… everything. Their method involves some deeply unsettling mushroom action that’ll make you rethink that mushroom risotto you were planning for dinner.

Moreno-Garcia weaves in themes of colonialism, racism, and bodily autonomy with a deft hand. The Doyles, with their obsession with bloodlines and “superior” genetics, serve as a chilling metaphor for the lingering effects of colonialism in Mexico. Noemí, with her unapologetic embrace of her own culture and refusal to be cowed by the Doyles’ pseudo-scientific racism, emerges as a heroine for the modern age.

A Heroine to Root For (Fungal Pun Intended)

Speaking of Noemí, can we talk about how refreshing it is to have a gothic heroine who’s not a shrinking violet? Our girl strides into High Place like she owns the joint, armed with cigarettes, killer outfits, and a take-no-prisoners attitude. She’s smart, stubborn, and not afraid to throw a punch (or a stiletto) when the situation calls for it.

Sure, she makes some questionable decisions along the way (pro tip: maybe don’t take mystery drugs from the creepy guy who’s been lurking outside your bedroom). But her determination to save her cousin and her refusal to be gaslit by the gaslightiest family this side of the Atlantic make her a protagonist you can’t help but cheer for.

A Master Class in Atmospheric Horror

Moreno-Garcia’s prose is a thing of dark beauty. She has a knack for describing the most unsettling scenes in lush, almost poetic detail. One minute you’re admiring her description of a sumptuous gown, the next you’re recoiling from a visceral depiction of fungal growth that’ll haunt your dreams. It’s a literary rollercoaster, and I, for one, didn’t want to get off.

The pacing is relentless, building from a slow burn of unease to a frenetic climax that’ll have you flipping pages faster than you can say “eugenics is bad, actually.” By the time you reach the gut-punch of an ending, you’ll feel like you’ve been through the wringer—in the best possible way.

Gothic Tropes with a Twist

“Mexican Gothic” plays with all the classic gothic elements we know and love (or love to be terrified by). Crumbling mansion? Check. Brooding antihero? Check. Family curses and dark secrets? Double check. But Moreno-Garcia subverts these tropes at every turn, creating something that feels both familiar and utterly new.

The setting itself is a masterclass in gothic atmosphere. High Place looms like a malevolent character in its own right, its moldy corners and hidden passages concealing horrors both supernatural and all too human. The fog-shrouded mountain and the nearby abandoned mine add layers of isolation and decay that’ll have you checking over your shoulder as you read.

A Worthy Addition to the Gothic Canon

“Mexican Gothic” cements Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s place as a master of genre-bending fiction. Fans of her previous works like “Gods of Jade and Shadow” and “Signal to Noise” will find the same deft handling of mythology and magic here, but with an added dose of skin-crawling horror.

For readers new to Moreno-Garcia’s work, “Mexican Gothic” serves as a perfect introduction to her unique voice. It’s a book that manages to be both a love letter to classic gothic literature and a searing critique of its often problematic underpinnings.

Comparisons and Contrasts

If you loved the atmospheric dread of Sarah Waters’ “The Little Stranger” or the feminist reimagining of gothic tropes in Diane Setterfield’s “The Thirteenth Tale,” you’ll find a kindred spirit in “Mexican Gothic.” It also pairs well with other recent works that blend horror with examinations of colonialism, like Oyinkan Braithwaite’s “My Sister, the Serial Killer” or Mariana Enriquez’s “Things We Lost in the Fire.”

Final Thoughts: A Fungal Feast for the Senses

Look, I’m not saying “Mexican Gothic” will make you side-eye every mushroom you encounter for the next six months. I’m just saying maybe don’t read it right before going mushroom foraging, okay?

All jokes aside, this book is a triumph. It’s a pulse-pounding thriller, a clever subversion of genre tropes, and a biting commentary on colonialism and racism all rolled into one gloriously creepy package. Moreno-Garcia has crafted a world so immersive and unsettling that you’ll find yourself both desperate to escape and reluctant to leave.

So go ahead, crack open “Mexican Gothic” and prepare for a wild ride. Just maybe keep the lights on. And for the love of all that’s holy, don’t eat any mysterious mushrooms while you’re reading. Trust me on this one.