I think as “southern gothic” it’s a bit of a stretch. Some minor elements—horror of being trapped in a cycle, family trauma, the “witches exiled but approached in times of need” trope, but missing any character that was raised in the southern setting and didn’t leave. Lee Ketchum comes close but left to L.A. and therefore is closer to mirroring the final narrator, who does a good job representing the “holier-than-thou northern observer” element you see in Faulkner, O’Connor, etc. As “horror” it’s a digestible short read who’s cyclic doomed nature is easy to predict but entertainingly told and clearly informed by the genre. Some overly repeated descriptions but all very atmospheric. The characters each have a distinct voice that isn’t just the authors voice in different fonts, and realistic strengths and weaknesses that make them understandable even if not always likeable. I think if you take the characters views to be representative of the author’s, then the book seems tone deaf for its time. But it’s made fairly clear each of the characters are deeply flawed and unreliable narrators with an understanding of social justice issues that doesn’t go much further than their own lived experience—an interesting take, at the very least.

Fantastic way of using the trope of ‘exiled witches’ (but instead of witchcraft, indigenous magic) to explore healing intergenerational family trauma in a realistically optimistic way. Sometimes the family tree healing doesn’t mean every branch is ‘saved’, those that are heal some big parts but still have plenty scars, some family members are incredible at stopping the cycle for one family member and practically perpetuate it for another family member. I don’t think I’ve found this sensitive and realistic a depiction of these phenomena in a long time. Also, making an amoral and inhuman force that’s genuinely scary but not underexplained is impressive. One pacing lag but otherwise very good on that front.

Found a few of the characters romantically male centric in a way that isn’t unrealistic (seen it happen to ppl who’s family trauma is male-perpetuated) but the cause of hetero romance prior to abuse was left to implication and personally, made it hard to understand as a lesbian reader. Would love to hear hetero or bi women’s thoughts on whether they felt these romances-turned-sour were underdeveloped as well or if the implication is sufficient with the right life experiences.

Funky way the serial killer is almost mythic/supernatural in the way he comes out of nowhere, juxtaposed with the protagonist’s invocation of religion to try to protect herself. Odd that the short story is so adept at highlighting the South’s contrast of brutality and politeness and yet is myopic to its own racism.

Interesting concept and pretty good execution. Fantastic at making you feel horrified by the ease with which characters are desensitized to black suffering. Best use of suspense I’ve read in a while.

Still, despite constantly being in her head I found the protagonist inconsistent in a way that seemed unintentional. Also as many have remarked, this is much softer “sci-fi” than what online categorizations make it out to be, and in my opinion was more “historical fiction set in the south” than southern gothic (the original reason I’d read it).

Lots of classic southern gothic tropes (haunted house, social transgressions, racism/classism/the nuclear family as sources of the grotesque, etc.) and a plot who’s pacing didn’t falter, despite a large setting change—which I find usually messes up new authors’ pacing. Absolutely fantastic lesbian relationship/sex scenes that don’t shy away from folding them into the horror of the novel (but not in a condemning, classic gothic lit way) which I find refreshing. Great gore too.

As of mid-2026, probably the most enjoyable book I’ve read so far.

Note: I’m reviewing the early 2020s small publisher version, NOT the Simon & Schuster version.

I read this in order to build a foundation for more modern southern gothic lit, since I found this one mentioned in a university syllabus. The more I read other works, the more I see the motifs/anxieties/cultural contexts in this story crop up, so I can admit that it was a relevant read. But as many fairytale tellings are, it’s flat on the characters and wandering in its plot. The blatantly racist tropes didn’t help.

There’s a reason Beloved has “classic” status in regards to southern gothic lit despite being so much more recent than other books to share that title. Both the mood evoked and the plot design leave no unintentional loose ends, and Morrison never does her subject matter the disservice of sanitizing the violence of America’s racism, whether in its history, present, or implied future.