Mexican Gothic transforms the classic haunted house story into something distinctly Mexican and thoroughly modern. Silvia Moreno-Garcia follows Noemí Taboada, a glamorous socialite from 1950s Mexico City who travels to the English countryside-inspired town of El Triunfo to check on her cousin Catalina, now married into the mysterious Doyle family. What starts as a rescue mission becomes a nightmarish descent into colonial horror, fungal body horror, and generational trauma.

This book excels at atmosphere. Moreno-Garcia crafts High Place, the Doyle mansion, as a character itself—moldering, alive, and malevolent. The house literally feeds off its inhabitants, creating a visceral metaphor for how colonialism and racism consume their victims. The author's prose is lush and deliberate, building dread through sensory details: the taste of metal, the feeling of walls breathing, the oppressive weight of family portraits.

Noemí makes for a compelling protagonist who grows from privileged party girl to determined survivor without losing her essential personality. Her relationship with Francis Doyle, the family's sensitive youngest member, develops naturally amid the horror. The book's exploration of eugenics, colonialism, and patriarchal control feels urgent and relevant.

However, the pacing stumbles in the middle third. Moreno-Garcia takes time establishing the mystery's rules, and some readers may find the deliberate buildup frustrating. The climax, while satisfying, relies heavily on exposition to explain the supernatural elements. Additionally, while the body horror is effective, it may overwhelm readers seeking pure gothic atmosphere.

This book is perfect for readers who enjoyed The Silent Companions or The Little Stranger—those who appreciate slow-burn gothic horror with literary ambitions. Fans of feminist retellings and stories that examine colonialism through genre fiction will find much to love. However, readers seeking fast-paced horror or those uncomfortable with body horror and themes of sexual violence should look elsewhere. Mexican Gothic succeeds as both an entertaining thriller and a thoughtful examination of how historical trauma literally haunts the present.