Hey, I’ve got some cool stuff to show y’all this weekend once I get my concept art back from the artist I hired to help with my upcoming dark fantasy novelette/novella series. But I also want to talk about my Louisiana Gothic novel, my first real foray into longform horror of any kind, that I’m currently revising for a late spring/early summer release. The working title is Wolf in the Sanctuary, and while many will have garnered what that suggests about the book, I want to talk about what Louisiana Gothic is to help set expectations.
What is Louisiana Gothic
Louisiana Gothic is a subset of the “Southern Gothic” genre of gothic fiction. In short, it delves into the darkest corners of the attics in Louisiana to show how the past and its sins continue to haunt the present. Like most gothic fiction, there will be elements of the supernatural, of the decayed grandeur of bygone eras, of the folklore prevalent in the region, and of the importance of both place and culture, inviting readers into a world where there is horror in the beautiful and beauty in the horrific.
Origins and Cultural Context
Rooted in the historical and geographical peculiarities of Louisiana, Louisiana Gothic takes its cues from a region steeped in murky swamps, meandering bayous, and multicultural heritage. My state’s history is a complex tapestry woven with French, Spanish, African, German, and Native American influences. And let’s not forget our noble pirates like Jean Lafitte or superheroes like Crawfish Man! This diverse cultural blend contributes to a unique mythology filled with voodoo rituals, ghost stories in almost every university, small town, and neighborhood in New Orleans, and the spectral remnants of colonial and antebellum decay. The lush, haunting landscapes—swampy bayous, moss-draped oak trees, and crumbling plantations—provide a wonderful backdrop for tales that dance in the liminalities, challenging the boundaries between the natural and the supernatural, the human and the beast, the sacred and the profane.
In general, the gothic tradition, with its fascination for decay, dread, and the creeping damnation previous generations have cursed the present with through sins unatoned for, is something few writers play with in regards to Louisiana. When people think of horror and Louisiana, the first thought is often the wonderful books by Anne Rice, and as much as I love Interview with the Vampire, more than half of the novel takes place in Europe. And even then, the idea of a foreign vampire corrupting a local, as Lestat did to Louis, is ripped right out of a 19th century European vampire tale. It’s a wonderful tale, but it skirts around the dread and horror lurking in Louisiana’s past. And while I don’t claim to be as good a writer as Rice was, I want to bring Louisiana horror into the bayou itself—into a situation where if you remove the tale from deep in the heart of Cajun country, the entire story falls apart. My aim is to create a gothic tale that could only work in Louisiana.
Key Themes and Motifs
For me, one of the defining features of the gothic is the ability to transform ordinary, mundane landscapes into places of deep, unsettling significance. The place isn’t just a setting in the gothic tale, it is a central character, mirroring the inner lives, the turmoil, and the hidden secrets of the characters. Themes of loss, of decay, of physical and spiritual destruction, recur throughout gothic literature. And in a culture struggling with the legacy of slavery in the midst of Catholicism and its waning influence on the population, such themes find a home. Similarly, the abandoned plantations and dilapidated mansions replace the mountain-top castles and ruined noble halls of earlier generations, serving as metaphors for the fading grandeur of a once-proud society, perhaps one punished for arrogance and opulence, now fallen to the passage of time.
And, of course, one cannot forget the supernatural, can they? Ghosts, hauntings, and mysterious phenomena are integral to the genre’s fabric. They can represent personal tragedies, historical injustices, colonialism’s lingering impact, and the vengeance brought on as punishment for sin (spiritual and social). These ghosts, these haunting manifestations, are not window-dressing at Halloween. No, they are the past that refuses to allow the present to forget where it came from.
And the gothic frequently challenges notions of identity. Heroes and heroines in gothic fiction often find themselves struggling to find a place amid different and/or shifting social and cultural expectations. They grapple with the legacy of their heritage while navigating a world in the midst of perpetual change. And Louisiana, with all the flags that have flown over its state, with the cultures blending (sometimes willingly, and sometimes by force), people often found themselves navigating situations where their public, semi-public, and private selves belonged to different groups with differing shades of cultural capital and levels of inclusion.
Will There Be Voodoo?
In Louisiana gothic, yes. In my novel, no. I’m an outsider to those beliefs and practices, and I do not feel it is my place to comment on them without greater research. That being said, as someone who went to Catholic school, trust me, Louisiana Catholicism offers more than enough horror and dread in itself.
Parting Thoughts. For now…
That’s a brief, down and dirty introduction to Louisiana Gothic as I see it. Look for more to come as I finalize Wolf in the Sanctuary for release in the coming months. I want to do my state proud, and so I’m taking my time with this one.
Thoughts? Questions? Send them my way!
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