Book Review: Gothic by Philip Fracassi

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“What is writing if not the metaphorical giving of one’s blood, after all?”

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Tyson Parks’s glory days appear to be well behind him. A bestselling author in the ’80s and ’90s, he’s nearing 60 and struggling with his craft. He longs to write historical fiction rather than the horror his publisher expects; he’s failing to deliver, is nearly broke, and is unwilling to keep up with current trends. Not everything is terrible, though; he has a loving partner, Sarah, and a beloved daughter, Violet, who are bright spots in his life. And after Sarah gifts him an antique desk for his birthday — an heirloom that, unbeknownst to her, a mysterious woman and her ancestors have spent centuries hunting the globe for — they hope it will boost his creativity and allow him to produce another bestseller.

Events take a bizarre turn as soon as Tyson begins using the desk. His writing turns feverish and obsessive, unstoppable and frenetic, producing a novel darker and more disturbing than anything he's penned previously — something publishers are convinced will be a hit, and for which they’re willing to pay top dollar. But when he becomes angry and violent and begins lashing out in horrible ways, he realizes something terrifying and potentially dangerous is happening, and he’ll have to decide what defines happiness: success or his family and sanity.

Gothic is an immersive and unflinching page-turner laced with black humor. The storyline doesn’t hold back or resist going to extreme and brutal places; it’s grisly and uncomfortable, but not for a moment is the reader tempted to look away. The entirety is underscored with a fantastic sense of intensifying dread; the reader knows things have a good chance of ending badly, and bloodily. Tyson is fascinating, his inner turmoil laid bare in the opening sequence, where he waits for a meeting with his literary agent, desperately clutching at the dregs of his once-brilliant career. Overweight, balding, shabby, unstylish, and clinging to a physical copy of his latest manuscript, he’s a frustrated, anxious, pathetic figure who envies the youth of the assistant offering him coffee, imagining her reduced to someone as old, weak, worthless, nervous, and unappealing as he is. Sarah is wealthy and has no idea of his perilous financial state; he resents her and the situation, which further emasculates him. His sole recourse and power grab is to refuse marriage, a dagger to her heart. 

Women are used, abused, and treated abominably, but with purpose, as the plot is an ironic commentary on the genre and humanity at large, both of which possess the potential for exploitation, cruelty, and misinterpretation, but only one of which often uses the other as a scapegoat for its selfish, catastrophic, greedy, and deliberate decisions and actions. Sinister occurrences spread like blood blooming in water; it’s petrifying, utterly convincing, and a spot-on examination of what society craves, and how it uses, perverts, and exploits that very thing once it gets it.

This is a story about choice, control, and corruption; repercussions, ego, and entitlement; and achievement, contentment, and morality; embodied by a Faustian piece of furniture that functions as a character in its own right. The mood is extremely dark, giving off old-school horror vibes as Tyson undertakes his steep descent, and as history repeats itself with devastating consequences. It’s layered, at times satirical — offensive and mocking, controversial and true — at others outright savage and chilling, haunting and horrifying. It’s a fantastic, cruel, gore-soaked cursed object/cosmic horror tale topped off with a chef’s kiss final scene (so meta) — this reader’s first foray into Philip Fracassi’s work, and definitely not the last!

🖤Amanda

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