Cly works at The Gold Persimmon, a mysterious hotel where guests can go to be totally anonymous. Though it is neither a glamorous nor illustrious career, Cly is proud of her job and takes the rules governing The Gold Persimmon very seriously. Rules like no fraternizing with guests outside of the hotel, never entering a guest's room, and exercising discretion when it comes to any past incidents at the hotel. Once Cly meets Edith, a strong-willed pediatrician who pursues Cly romantically, she finds herself breaking the rules. In part 2, the story shifts to Jamie, a nonbinary author who winds up trapped in a sex hotel when a mysterious fog descends over the city. The story shifts to horror in this section, as the characters trapped inside the hotel devolve into Lord of the Flies-esque chaos. I couldn't tell exactly how the two stories fit together and tonally, there were some big differences. However, there were obviously major similarities in the hotel setting, the secrecy of said hotel, and the unknowability of what is behind all those doors. I really enjoyed the chapters about Cly and puzzling out what is going on in her world, but the sections about Jamie and their survival in a nightmare scenario was compelling. I do have a theory as to how the stories are connected, but overall this is a thought-provoking novel that will stay with me for quite a while.

This novel features two parallel stories - Cly, a hotel check-in girl whose mental balance hinges on the hotel where she works and its routines and Jaime who goes to interview for a job at a different hotel and ends up trapped by a horrific fog that envelops the city.

Rating:
3.5, rounded up

Review:
The first thing that stood up and really made itself apparent when I started reading this book was the writing style. It hooked me in immediately. Lindsay Merbaum fashioned a story with words designed to make you feel something. I'll be honest, those feelings aren't always great. But in hindsight, I think that was the point. Merbaum constructed the stories in this book in a way that forces you to try to reconcile them, and I'm excited to see anything else that Merbaum writes.

When I was reading the summary for this book, three things became instantly noticeable: queer, feminist, horror. All together. In one, nice package right here in front of me. This really did read like a queer, feminist, horror book. The plot was engaging and fast-paced. The discomfort of all the characters is apparent, but there were a few flaws with this.

I will admit, I did not understand everything about the book. Split into three sections, with two narrators (Clytemnestra - she/her - and Jaime - they/them), there was a certain disconnect that didn't make a lot of sense to me. While the summary makes it seem like Jaime and Cly are in some way connected, it doesn't read like that. Maybe I missed something, but it felt like two incredibly separate narratives that only were related by the fact that they were queer and set in a hotel (though two different hotels). However, both stories are compelling. Both are linked in that our two main characters go through grief, have to reconcile with family and trauma, and learn what, and who, they really are. Different faces are shown to different people as both grapple with the differences in what others can see.

My biggest problem with the book was simply the structure. The plots themselves were intriguing and kept me interested, but I didn't much enjoy the almost lurching feeling of going from Clytemnestra and her lover, Edith, to a completely new narrative found with Jaime. The ending to each of their stories left a lot of questions, and didn't feel resolved. I'm okay with a book that has both of those, but I feel like the ending was the weakest part of the book. That being said, though, I'm not usually a fan of thrillers or horror books, so maybe that was just my reading experience. A reader who enjoys those types of endings may find more out of it than I did.

Overall, I do think anyone interested in the premise will at the bare minimum enjoy the experience of reading it. I don't usually go for a thriller or a horror book, but I was still drawn in and deeply engaged with the characters. I may not have fully understood it, but I did understand my own feelings reading the book. I encourage you all to give it a shot.

The Gold Persimmon is a book that presents at once with great potential and a lot of conflict. The premise in the description was intoxicating, this Lynchian fever dream promised on the page. Mulholland Drive but from a queer feminist perspective and not an old white man. And if the goal of the book is to make me feel, to make me continue to think about the book, to have been at once frustrated but unable to put it down? Then Lindsay Merbaum succeeds far beyond what I'd have imagined when I began.

The novel tells two stories, in one existence we have Clytemnestra, the check-in girl promised, who lives a life of routines and practice. Until Edith sweeps her up into a tempestuous and boundary pushing relationship full of red flags. Meanwhile we also explore her relationship with her parents and the space they share. In the other existence., we have Jaime, a non-binary aspiring writer looking for a job at a sex motel that is quickly thrown into a terrible, fraught situation.

There are rarely three words put together to get me more excited about a book than queer, feminist, and horror. But at the end of the day, this is not a book that I can give the full-throated recommendation I so hoped to give.

The author does an amazing job of creating prose that's engrossing, of moving the story rapidly with a frenetic pace that seems to fit the discomfort of both of our point of view characters. This is a skillfully put together book and it is well written. Every time I tried to set it down to sleep or do something else with my day, I was back to it within minutes.

Jaime, in particular, was eerily familiar, non-binary, unsure, Jewish heritage but raised largely devoid of it, tense distant mother prone to fits. The terror that they went through was palpable. Every chapter featuring them was one that I was instantly engrossed in. I felt their fear in the pit of my stomach. But at the same time, too often their identity was the weapon of that terror and with nonbinary rep being so rare it made me sad in a way separate from the book that even amidst an inexplicable horror we came back to that over and over again.

The biggest challenge though was I think in structure. By telling each story in its own part, neatly divided, I nearly did not finish the book. The chapters with Cly were difficult because I tangibly disliked Edith as a character. I'm glad that I was reading a digital copy as I worry at points of Edith's behavior I would have tossed a physical book away with a stroppy sigh.

At the end of the day - I think this is absolutely a book worth reading if the concept appeals to you. I think it is going to be one that is divisive in reaction - and that isn't a bad thing. Some people are going to find Edith, the character that gave me so much trouble, romantic or seductive where I see emotionally abusive. Not everything is for me and despite a mixed review, I eagerly look for what's next from the author.

The Gold Persimmon is a strange and captivating novel. Beautifully written, well-paced, and replete with sensory detail that constructs a tangible world for readers even as the story slides further and further from reality, this is one that might keep you up all night reading juuust one more chapter.

In places I found this story difficult to follow. However, I cannot say with certainty that this detracts from the reading experience; if anything, I think it heightens the sense of mystery and confusion. It's clear that Merbaum does not intend for readers to feel they have been given all the answers, and I think the feeling of not knowing adds to the horror of the novel's tense and terrifying middle section. The narrative's surreal and confusing aspects contribute to the emotional impact of its character and relationship development, resulting in a memorable book that, while it does not give up all its secrets, should leave readers feeling they have experienced something intense and real.

Overall, this is an excellent read, and one I would recommend to readers with a taste for both literary prose styling and queer, feminist, surreal horror.

I received a free e-ARC of this book via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

This queer, seductive, bizarre horror was unlike anything I have read, and I enjoyed it overall. The story follows two different characters and two different hotels in two different realities. First we meet Cly, who works at a mysterious, sterile, and extremely private hotel. Cly's section was interesting and she was an extremely unique character. She worships the hotel she works at, The Gold Persimmon, and I just wish we would've seen a little more into the allure of the hotel for her. We were often there with her, but I wasn't quite sold on her love for it.

I was wondering when the horror element would begin when the narrative switches to Jaime, and from there the story quickly becomes horrific. When Jaime shows up to interview at a sex hotel, they end up trapped there with a small group of people by a pervasive fog in the city. I was pulled into this section much more, which makes sense because it is much more exciting and for a while, I was wondering how the two would connect. By the end, though, the parallels and connections were clear and done very well.

There is one scene in particular that really stood out to me, where a group of women gorge themselves on food and drink, entering a sort of frenzy. The whole thing was so captivating and bizarre and I thought Merbaum wonderfully captured the mood through her prose. This strange little book won't be for everyone, but it is certainly interesting and worth the read. A strong debut!

The Gold Persimmon- Clytemnestra is a check-in girl at The Gold Persimmon, a temple-like New York City hotel with gilded furnishings and carefully guarded secrets. Cloistered in her own reality, Cly lives by a strict set of rules until a connection with a troubled hotel guest threatens the world she’s so carefully constructed.

In a parallel reality, an inexplicable fog envelops the city, trapping a young, nonbinary writer named Jaime in a sex hotel with six other people. As the survivors begin to turn on one another, Jaime must navigate a deadly game of cat and mouse.

Haunted by specters of grief and familial shame, Jaime and Cly find themselves trapped in dual narratives in this gripping experimental novel that explores sexuality, surveillance, and the very nature of storytelling.


I received an e-ARC of this book from NetGalley.

I had not read the writer before., but I found myself enjoying the book. Very new subject and full of a very interesting cast of characters. It starts slow, but reves up and just keeps you enjoying the oddities of the book.
I would say it was a good read, and you must keep going. Well done I say.

Disclaimer: I received an e-ARC of this book from NetGalley. I was not paid or otherwise compensated for this review, and the opinions expressed here are mine and mine alone.

The Gold Persimmon is an interesting contemporary take on magical realism. The titular hotel and everything about it feel slightly out of place, the sort of thing that could exist but doesn't, and maybe shouldn't.

I have something to confess: I did not understand this book. Each of the 3 parts individually makes a certain amount of sense, I suppose, but I struggled to fit them together, and the more I think about it, the more I think that that's the author's intention. To be clear, I am not saying this book is bad (in fact, quite the opposite, it was a fascinating read that managed to pack a lot into its pages), just that I didn't understand it.

The first and third sections focus on a check-in clerk at the hotel named Clytemnestra, and her relationship with her job, a guest at the hotel named Edith, and her parents, particularly her mother. The middle section, which I found the most compelling of the three, seemingly only shares a location and a certain degree of queerness with the rest of the book. It focuses instead on some of the hotel guests and staff dealing with an unexplained disaster of sorts, and the interpersonal tensions which arise as a result. The imagery here is powerful; the Gold Persimmon feels like a real place, and the characters feel like real people, with all their faults and strengths.

My main takeaway from this book is that I'd be interested to hear Lindsay Merbaum's thoughts or reflections on it, since maybe that might help me get a better understanding of the underlying metaphors, commentary, or narrative ideas present in the text. This might be one that benefits from being re-read in a year or so, when it's no longer fresh but not forgotten.

Thank you to Creature Publishing and NetGalley for making this readily available to be read!

I picked up this novel, despite the fact that it was not a genre I typically turn to, because of the beautiful cover, the interesting description, and the promise of queer representation. And in the end, I was certainly not disappointed!

Merbaum's writing style is absolutely gorgeous. She writes in a way where everything feels very effortless and it all flows together amazingly. Simple choices that she chooses to execute, she executes well. An example of my favorite from the very beginning is the fountain in The Gold Persimmon. So many simple word choices, from the bubble of the water to the texture of the stone, elevate the mental images tenfold. As a result, the environment was also easy to immerse myself in because I was able to picture myself within the spaces the characters were in.

I found myself struggling with the dual narratives because I had a hard time figuring out whether the stories were just supposed to mirror one another or if they were going to directly intertwine at some point. I also found that Jaimie's story was a lot stronger and I was finding myself wanting to read their's more than Cly's - not to say Cly's story was boring, but for me was not as compelling. I did, however, enjoy the endings and how it left a lot up to interpretation.

Overall a strong book, and I'm excited to see more from Merbaum in the future!

Thank you to NetGalley and Creature Publishing for the early copy of this book!

The Gold Persimmon is an odd, mysterious, yet beautiful hotel in New York City. Its guests use different check-in counters so they never cross paths, the employees use tunnels so they're never seen- anonymity is of the utmost importance at the Persimmon. Clytemnestra works at one of the check-in counters and holds the hotel in near reverence. Will a run-in with a guest change everything for her?

Jamie lives in New York and is interviewing for a position at a sex hotel, The Red Orchid, when an unexplained and terrifying fog engulfs the city. Trapped inside with staff and a few guests, things take a very dark turn when they all begin to turn on one another.

I won't lie, this is not the type of book I normally read, but the premise pulled me in so I gave it a shot. I loved Merbaum's writing style, and for a lot of Jamie's story, I felt like I was right there next to them, feeling everything they felt. It was intense and harrowing and I wanted to keep reading to find out what the hell was going on and what would happen next. Cly's story, though, wasn't my favorite. I definitely preferred the second half of the book.

I feel like a lot of this went over my head, as well. The ending was left kind of up to interpretation and left me kind of like "well, alright." I wanted more from Jamie and The Red Orchid, but I think folks that are used to reading thrillers, and suspense will enjoy this one a lot.

"The Gold Persimmon" tells the stories of Clytemnestra (Cly) and Jaime, both of whom are connected with two hotels that serve a similar function. Lindsay Merbaum's writing style is tight, precise, and exacting. Not every detail is explained, but there are enough given for the reader to draw their own conclusions/let their imagination take them wherever it will. The atmosphere created in Jaime's story was gripping, haunting, and suddenly terrifying. Everything seems to be going fine, and then I was on the edge of my seat in suspense.

All of the characters are distinct. It was interesting to compare the characters in Clytemnestra's story with those in Jaime's and see who was a foil for whom/the alternate version of that character. I did have trouble understanding how the two stories fit together--there were some similarities in events and characters between the two, but I almost feel like Jaime's story could have worked as the entire novel. When the book ended, I was confused about how the two stories fit together. I preferred Cly's story. Having that part be narrated in third person added to the haunting, unsettling atmosphere, but it is interesting to compare it to Jaime's first-person narrative, which felt more consuming and personal. I did feel that Jaime's section was unresolved, but I loved Cly's ending. Not everything is explained, but I like how open-ended it is and that different readers can have their own ideas for what happened and what will happen next.

I would recommend this book for anyone who enjoys thrillers, suspense, and the terrible places your imagination can take you.

"The Golden Persimmon" is a coiled snake, full of a quiet power, a continuous threat. This novel contains two parallel stories, or maybe just one story, a journey of trauma, family and grief that flows in a single current but breaks itself on different rocks. Individually both stories are compelling, with engaging characters and a confident narrative voice, even when the stories themselves, or at least the characters, have an ever-heightened reality that is disorienting and has a dreamlike quality.

Both individual stories, and the two of them intertwined as this singular novel, lead you on a journey but don’t hold your hand. The reader has to do a lot of the work here, the novel ending as lots of thoughts and questions are still roiling around in your head, and it doesn’t give you easy answers. With that said, it never feels burdensome or heavy, even it is dancing with the limits of reality and you are expected to do the work of translation. It is so well written and paced, and the protagonists so very real, that the novel feels more like an invitation to contemplation than a chore, even when it is withholding. What was most striking to me is the relationship between the trauma and tragedy of family, and the ways that permeates and shapes what it means to be in relationship to others. What does it mean to be seen, intentionally and surreptitiously, by those who are close to you or otherwise, and how does that affect what you show others?

Like I said, the novel is quiet and pensive, but still tense and demanding. It is hard to say how much “happens.” I can see an argument that some readers may not be compelled by the complications of the protagonists’ inner lives as they don’t erupt in volcanic splendor but instead are perpetually simmering. With that said, I thought everything form the characters to the pacing to the atmosphere to the style/tone of writing were all wonderful, and I found I didn’t want to put it down once I started.