Looking for some queer, feminist horror? The Gold Persimmon is a new novel full of lush, surreal hotels, precise language, and chilling threats that haunt the characters gradually.  

Two stories cross paths in this book. The first, a third-person framing narrative that starts and ends the book, focuses on a young woman named Clytemnestra who holds a dead-end job at a luxury hotel called The Gold Persimmon. It’s a rule-bound environment that ensures privacy and discretion. Clients go there to grieve, and one has recently committed a dramatic suicide. While the troubled parents she lives with disapprove of her job, Cly views the hotel as a refuge, “a precisely ordered world of musts and musn’ts.” 

This order is threatened when Cly begins an affair with an older client named Edith. Revelations pile up to reveal that there’s more to Edith’s story than what’s apparent on the surface. 

Once things between Cly and Edith come to a head, the first story gives way to the second, featuring a nonbinary first-person narrator named Jaime. Their life circumstances aren’t too different from Cly’s: they’re a young, aspiring writer interviewing for a job at a sex hotel when a dangerous fog envelops the city.

With the outside world under threat, Jaime is trapped inside the hotel with six other people, not all of whom are trustworthy. Gender, sexuality, and power intertwine as the characters form alliances, keep secrets and weave in and out of rooms, trying to survive. Fans of closed-environment horror will appreciate the setting, with its claustrophobia and absurdity (characters hide out in dryers and stumble into dildo-themed hotel rooms), and the tense narrative pace.    

The twin narratives are equally surreal, meeting reality at a dark remove that’s just a little off-kilter. The book’s blurb states that they are set in parallel realities, but the narrative does not clearly define how they intersect. Throughout both, dreams intrude on waking life. Physical attacks occur and it isn’t initially clear what or who is attacking. At one point, Jaime brainstorms a story idea which resembles the setting of Cly’s story, and Cly’s own narrative culminates in a haunting twist. 

Merbaum’s language is masterful. Not a word seems out of place. The haunting and beautiful descriptions resonate well after the book ends. Pick up The Gold Persimmon if you’re in the mood for something uncanny and thoughtful.