Halloween may have been yesterday, but it seems I’m still going to talk about creepy books!

In Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia, young socialite Noemí and her father receive a letter from Noemí’s cousin Catalina, who has moved from Mexico City to her new husband’s manor house, High Place. The letter reveals Catalina in a strange mental state, speaking of things that cannot possibly be true. Concerned, Noemí’s father sends her to visit, and to determine if Catalina needs more psychiatric care than she can receive in her isolated home. Once at High Place, Noemí finds a strange sense of gloom, odd sensibilities within the residents, and even stranger dreams when she sleeps at night. She isn’t sure who she can rely on, even the family’s youngest son who seems kind enough, because the more she learns about these people and this place, the more she worries that her father’s fears are right, and that Catalina—and Noemí herself—are in great danger.

I can see why this book is pretty well liked; the tone is very compelling and dark, and the story in general a good homage to Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier. It’s nice that the plot doesn’t follow that book beat for beat, though, and is very much its own thing. However, I also picked up on some “Fall of the House of Usher” elements, and even some things evocative of The Yellow Wallpaper. In other words, some excellent (and haunting) vibes, which is great!

As for Noemí, I found her to be a decent protagonist. Sometimes, especially during the beginning, I found her somewhat shallow and/or flippant attitude to be a little frustrating, but she does have some decent character development and becomes tougher and more serious, without entirely losing her core personality. (And of course, I’ll give her some grace for not knowing from the start, as I did, what genre of story she exists in.)

The other characters were good as well, especially Francis, the youngest Doyle son. His rapport with Noemí is sweet, even if the reader is well aware he is keeping some information from her. His attitude never feels malicious, which makes it easier to like and root for him, especially when compared to his older brother Virgil (the man Catalina married) or Howard (ugh, what a creep!). Virgil is a sinister presence throughout the book, and it’s rather annoying sometimes how entranced Noemí seems with him at times. I personally did not see anything alluring about him, even though we’re told many times that he’s handsome. I would have thought that his words and behavior would override that, but I suppose the general bizarre state of the house was getting to her.

Speaking of the house, High Place is a great setting. It definitely feels like Manderley from Rebecca, full of history, not all of it good. And the addition of the Doyle family being fascinated by eugenics adds a layer of disgust to the place, particularly in the way they talk about Noemí’s heritage. And the way the story explores this awful concept, devolving into true horror as the plot progresses, is clever. It’s an intriguing blend of pseudoscience, mycology, and supernatural elements, and for me, it’s the best part of the book.

However, I think there were some things that could have been more fleshed out. Firstly, I would have liked more time with Catalina, to dig into what she’s been going through, as it felt like her character wasn’t particularly well developed. And while the nightmares Noemí was experiencing were dark and interesting, I would have liked to know a little more about the grounds and how they (and what dwelled there) were affecting the house. That’s such a great idea, rich with possibility, and I expected a little more to it than just “creepy eugenics cult family.” There’s a couple mentions of the Doyle ancestor bringing soil from England when he built High Place, and I had been sure that was going to be super significant—sort of in a twist on Dracula’s need for the soil of his homeland, this time in a way that ultimately destroyed the Doyles—but instead, that wasn’t really the case. So that was a bit disappointing.

In the end, though, Mexican Gothic is a good read, full of gloom and lurking danger. The atmosphere is stellar in its oppressiveness, and it’s easy to get invested in discovering the truth of High Place. I don’t think all the elements were perfect, though, especially in some of the lore. But there’s enough here to like, and I would recommend it to people who enjoy horror (though if you’re sensitive to body horror, light gore, or discussions of incest, probably steer clear). I think I preferred Moreno-Garcia’s latest novel, but this is still worth a read, and I look forward to reading more of her work in the future!

Mexican Gothic is available now!