Review: Goddess of Filth
V. Castro
141 pages
Creature Publishing (2021)
Tl;dr summary: Teenage girl gets possessed by sin-eating Aztec goddess
Read this if you like: Mesoamerican mythology, folk tales and fairy tales, spiritual horror
Goddess of Filth is a coming-of-age horror story, and the way it weaves these two genres together is I think the most compelling part of this book. The general gist of the book is that a group of recent high school graduates have a séance and accidentally summon Tlazoltéotl, the titular goddess. One of the friends, Fernanda, is possessed by the goddess. Her best friend who was conducting the séance, Lourdes, takes the lead on helping Fernanda get un-possessed, and serves as the book’s main narrator.
A lot of the themes and tropes that are played with in the course of this plot movements are familiar, but with a twist that makes them surprising and exciting for the reader. Possession is a fairly common horror trope, for instance, but rarely treated quite this way. That it’s an ancient Aztec goddess, for one thing—that’s not a mythology that’s often referenced in a horror context. The relationship between Fernanda and Tlazoltéotl is also approached more from the coming-of-age side. The goddess ends up serving as a kind of mentor figure, helping Fernanda learn her own power and achieve self-acceptance. The expected thing would be that the possessing demon or spirit is the antagonist of the story, but in Goddess of Filth that role is shifted to the creepy priest, Father Moreno, who becomes increasingly disturbing and evil as the characters learn more about Tlazoltéotl, and she shifts from a source of fear to a source of curiosity.
The reveal of information was very well-controlled throughout this book. I felt like there was just the right amount of detail about the mythology. A part of me was wishing that the reader got to see more of Tlazoltéotl’s story, but on the other hand, omitting the details of that keeps the focus more firmly Lourdes, Fernanda, and the other present-day characters, which ultimately was the right decision for the story. The story maintains high tension and has excellent pacing from beginning to end, and Castro’s restraint with the mythological details that she included helped to build that. I also appreciated the slow build of Father Moreno’s thread, which added a nice little extra twist to ratchet up the tension at the end.
I wasn’t sure at first how I felt about the use of point-of-view in this book, but I think I’ve decided I like how fluid it is. The third-person perspectives are necessary to tell this story—there are too many moving parts at the end for it to be accomplished with just a first-person viewpoint, and using third-person for Fernanda’s perspective when she’s possessed makes sense. A lot of writers probably would have kept Lourdes’ perspective in a close-third, too, but giving it a first-person closeness does a lot for building Lourdes’ character and voice that would’ve been difficult to achieve otherwise. The reader cares instantly about both Lourdes and Fernanda because we see that initial moment of possession completely through Lourdes’ eyes.
I will admit I was a bit jarred by the switch to third-person at the start of chapter two, or rather by the switch back to 1st-person within the chapter. I think this was primarily because it’s something I’m not used to. Most of the times I’ve seen 1st and 3rd POVs used in the same book they’re more separate and regimented, where in Goddess of Filth the shifts are very fluid. Once I got the feel for what was happening, the transitions felt seamless, and it suits the overall feel of the book.
My only minor quibble with this book is that some of the characters felt a bit peripheral. That initial group of five friends felt like it could have been just 3, or even just Fernanda and Lourdes, without losing anything from the story. There were times that another friend’s name was said and I had to stop and check back to even remember who she was. With a book this short, there just wasn’t any extra pagespace to round them out into full characters, and it left them feeling just kind of...there.
Like I said, though, that’s a very minor critique in what is overall an entertaining and well-constructed book. I’d definitely recommend it for anyone who likes Mesoamerican mythology or character-driven horror, and it’s also worth a study for folks who like exploring unique ways of using point-of-view.
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