Carmella Lowkis
Published: 14th May 2024
Genre: historical, lgbt
Spoilers?: alluded to
An atmospheric, irresistible gothic historical debut set in 19th century Paris, following two con-artist sisters who pose as gifted mediums to pull off one last job . . .
Paris, 1866. When Baroness Sylvie Devereux receives a house-call from Charlotte Mothe, the sister she disowned, she fears her shady past as a spirit medium has caught up with her. But with their father ill and Charlotte unable to pay his bills, Sylvie is persuaded into one last con.
Their marks are the de Jacquinots: dysfunctional aristocrats who believe they are haunted by their great aunt, brutally murdered during the French Revolution. Sylvie and Charlotte will need to deploy every trick to terrify the family out of their gold – until they experience inexplicable horrors themselves.
The sisters start to question if they really are at the mercy of a vengeful spirit. And what other deep, dark secrets threaten to come to light…?
Galley received from publisher
Spitting Gold should’ve been so good. All of the pieces were there: gothic mystery; spiritualist movement; sapphic heroine; post-Revolutionary France. Overall, when compared to Sarah Waters (and this book is trying so hard to be Fingersmith), I just feel unsatisfied.
The story takes place in France in the mid 1860s. Sisters Sylvie and Charlotte are mediums and spiritists — but most importantly, they’re charlatans, faking ghosts and hauntings and robbing their wealthy clientele blind. Or, at least, they were — Sylvie, now the Baroness Devereaux, hasn’t had any contact with Charlotte since Sylvie abandoned her two years earlier. Now, with their father dying of a tumor, Charlotte has tracked Sylvie down for one last con — promising to use her share of the payout to disappear from Sylvie’s life for good.
Remember when I mentioned Sarah Waters? The comparison is aspirational, but, more than that, it’s a big flashing neon sign for anyone paying attention. As it happens, The Handmaiden (Park Chan-Wook’s 2016 adaptation of Fingersmith) is one of my favorite movies, so, when I saw “Sarah Waters” and “con artists,” I felt like I had a good sense of where Spitting Gold was going. Spoiler alert: I was right on the money.
The main difference being, where Fingersmith is split into three acts, Spitting Gold has two. Two acts, two sisters. Honestly, I feel like this worked against the novel. Most of the reviews I’ve read have heavily favored one part over the other (I seem to be in the minority for favoring Charlotte, but, what can I say, I’m always a sucker for messy lesbians). In terms of planting and payoff, there’s also too much buildup for a twist that is, quite frankly, not worth the hype. I’ve also seen reviews that mention being confused by the sudden POV switch between parts one and two. Altogether, I think the division of “acts” could’ve been handled a lot more cleanly in order to improve both clarity and pacing.
This was, obviously, compounded by how similar the narration was between the two sisters. There was the potential for some interesting writing, but it was truly too bland to spark any kind of emotion in me. We’re told Sylvie is the cultured, aristocratic sister and Charlotte is the poor, manipulative sister, but you wouldn’t know it from how they talk. (I think this also contributes to some of the confusion around that POV switch.) And this, really, is probably my main complaint: I just felt whelmed by it all. I should not be feeling whelmed by Victorian ghost stories and sapphic mysteries, dammit!
I can tell this is the kind of book that will really work for some people, so, if you’re at all intrigued, I’d still recommend giving it a look. It just didn’t particularly work for me.
SENTENCE: BED. It’s no Fingersmith, but it’s, like, fine.
six of queens reads 