It’s good to get in touch with your roots, but sometimes those roots don’t want to stay buried… Apocalyptic Aztec gods and the vengeful spirit of a murdered Nahua woman threaten to enact a bloody vengeance for the horrors of colonialism in Piñata by Leopoldo Gout, a Mexican horror novel that came out last month.
Carmen Sanchez, a Mexican-American architect and single mother, is equal parts thrilled and nervous to be returning to her homeland for the biggest project of her career: restoring an old Spanish abbey for a new life as a luxury hotel. In addition to the usual misogyny that she always has to face on job sites, her work on the abbey is continually stalled by corrupt bureaucracy, shoddy under-the-table dealings, and sabotage from resentful workers. But Carmen’s biggest challenge is keeping her two daughters both safe and entertained in a town where the streets are littered with posters for missing young women and it seems like a new body is found every week. Surly sixteen-year-old Izel is more interested in texting her friends back home than exploring the markets or her Mexican heritage, but eleven-year-old Luna is as exuberant and friendly as ever, absorbing the world around her like a sponge. Such openness can be a dangerous thing, however, when there are people and entities with bad intentions about. A young Nahua woman warns Carmen that she’s seen visions of a dark entity who is drawn to her daughter’s light, but Carmen brushes off such superstitious talk. Then everything changes after Luna takes a Nahua artifact from the construction site—her bubbly demeanor disappears, replaced by sullenness punctuated by surprisingly violent outbursts, and something deeply unsettling lurks within her gaze. Even back in New York, ominous portents seem to follow the Sanchez family—grasshoppers appear from nowhere and dark clouds of pitch-black butterflies swarm the air, while bizarre accidents and mysterious deaths strike Luna’s loved ones and her enemies alike. Carmen remembers the young woman’s warning, but how can she stop an ancient evil from using her daughter as an instrument of vengeance?
Piñata is an example of the ever-popular subgenre of possession horror, reminiscent of such films as the classic The Exorcist or the more recent Hereditary, yet expands this genre out from its Christian context. Luna is not possessed by a demon from Christian cosmology, nor can she be saved by crosses, holy water, and the ministrations of a devoted priest. Instead, her affliction is drawn from the history and mythology of the indigenous people of Mexico. And the centuries of oppression and erasure that have passed since the conquest of Mexico make it that much harder for Carmen and her family to even know what they’re dealing with. The neighborly Catholic priest, Father Verón, tries his best to keep an open mind and look outside his own faith for answers to help his friends, but no representative of the very church that oppressed the Nahua and sought to eradicate their religion is going to defeat these monsters. Instead, Carmen and Luna’s best allies are Yoltzi and Quahtli, two Nahua locals who have maintained a strong connection with their culture. But with so much of their history lost to time and violent erasure, even they struggle to understand the forces that have taken over Luna.
Adjacent to the possession subgenre is the horror film trope of the creepy child. There’s just something about the heightened contrast when the most innocent of people become so far corrupted. This trope is used to great effect in Piñata. At the beginning of the novel, Luna is a particularly loveable character as a gregarious tween with a sunny disposition. So her slow drift into something moody, violent, and otherworldly is all the more distressing. Luna’s condition goes unnoticed for perhaps longer than it should because her change in behavior is dismissed as the natural differences between childhood and adolescence. And indeed, Luna experiences her first period partway through the book—a milestone that has frequently been associated with vulnerability to the supernatural throughout the horror genre (think: Stephen King’s Carrie). But while changing hormones can certainly do a number on kids, a sudden shift in personality and behavior is worth taking a closer look at. Luna’s insatiable curiosity leads her into dangerous territory, but the lack of curiosity in those around her nearly seals her fate.
If you’re interested in the growing trend of post-Colonial horror novels, Piñata is another one to add to the list, beside Mexican Gothic and She Is a Haunting. You can find Piñata on shelves now at your favorite local retailer, or purchase a copy online and support The Gothic Library in the process using this Bookshop.org affiliate link. If you’ve read it, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments!
Overlaying the horror of the unknown with the existential terror of lost information feels very compelling. To me, there’s nothing scarier than something that was once needed for survival being forgotten through apathy or negligence: in this case, both imposed by survival itself. This seems to create an ouroboros of fear. Very interesting. I also like the butterfly imagery.