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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.
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.
274 pages, Paperback
Published October 5, 2021
8 people are currently reading
2436 people want to read
About the author
Lindsay Merbaum
4 books94 followersLindsay Merbaum is a queer author of strange tales, the founder of Pick Your Potions, and the high priestess of the Study Coven. Her first novel, The Gold Persimmon, was a 2021 Foreword Indies Finalist. Vampires at Sea, a smutty, horror-comedy novella, sets sail October 7, 2025. Lindsay lives in Michigan with her partner and cats.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 77 reviews
March 1, 2021
I had the pleasure of reading this novel before publication, and I highly recommend it. The Gold Persimmon is a tightly written, atmospheric novel whose eery settings act almost as characters, amplifying the suspense and tension. There isn't a superfluous word; Merbaum's prose moves effortlessly from scene to scene, room to room, with perfect pacing. The main characters are immediately relatable; the novel captures what it feels like to move through a world that is both openly and subtly hostile, where other people's motives remain mysterious and possibly menacing, and the possibility that one is being surveilled is never out of the question—but by whom, and to what end? There is an impressive amount of plot and character development packed into this relatively short novel, and I appreciated that not everything was completely explained or wrapped up in a tidy bow at the end. This book leaves the reader space to ponder, wonder, and draw connections for themselves, while still feel offering a very satisfying ending. I'm looking forward to reading whatever Lindsay Merbaum writes next!
July 20, 2021
A fantastic surreal ghost story where the ghosts are expectation, love, and failure. I can't really say much else without giving it away.
February 26, 2021
I had the honor of reading The Gold Persimmon before its official release date, and I have three words for prospective readers: BUY THIS BOOK. Preorder it on the publisher’s website. Get it now.
I am not an avid reader by any stretch of the imagination. My extroversion makes sitting with a novel difficult, no matter how engrossing the material. That said, I couldn’t put The Gold Persimmon down, and was incredibly annoyed when my daily life interfered with reading more at a given time.
Not only could I not put it down, but I’ve read the book three times already and would read it again without a second thought. With every new read, I uncovered layers of meaning and discovered hints at the story’s twists and turns that I’d somehow never seen before. I would liken the tale to Netflix’s rendition of Shirley Jackson’s “The Haunting of Hill House,” and revisiting the novel had me asking myself, “How did I miss this Easter Egg before?! This is so clever!”
The characters are complex, rich with [sometimes hidden] goodness and shadows and scars. The two hotels are foils, setting the scenes for intense and sometimes painful personal growth – especially for Jaime, the story’s non-binary narrator. And, to say it simply and avoid spoilers, the ending had me reeling.
Again, BUY THIS BOOK. You won’t regret it.
I am not an avid reader by any stretch of the imagination. My extroversion makes sitting with a novel difficult, no matter how engrossing the material. That said, I couldn’t put The Gold Persimmon down, and was incredibly annoyed when my daily life interfered with reading more at a given time.
Not only could I not put it down, but I’ve read the book three times already and would read it again without a second thought. With every new read, I uncovered layers of meaning and discovered hints at the story’s twists and turns that I’d somehow never seen before. I would liken the tale to Netflix’s rendition of Shirley Jackson’s “The Haunting of Hill House,” and revisiting the novel had me asking myself, “How did I miss this Easter Egg before?! This is so clever!”
The characters are complex, rich with [sometimes hidden] goodness and shadows and scars. The two hotels are foils, setting the scenes for intense and sometimes painful personal growth – especially for Jaime, the story’s non-binary narrator. And, to say it simply and avoid spoilers, the ending had me reeling.
Again, BUY THIS BOOK. You won’t regret it.
March 30, 2022
I... didn't get it. The writing was beautiful and at times I couldn't put it down but the two separate stories never seem to actually converge? They just felt like two separate stories in a vaguely similar setting. Perhaps I just wasn't reading critically enough but I would have preferred the two separate stories live on their own, they could have been moving enough. Also, WTF was the cloud?
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 4, 2024
CW: transphobia, misgendering, infidelity, death, suicide attempt, (mentioned) child neglect, mental illness
Actual rating: 2.5 stars
I'm gonna be honest, champs, every time I thought I understood what made these two stories fit together, I lost it by the end of the page.
Actual rating: 2.5 stars
I'm gonna be honest, champs, every time I thought I understood what made these two stories fit together, I lost it by the end of the page.
October 7, 2021
A Joyfully Jay review.
3.5 stars
The Gold Persimmon is billed as an experimental feminist horror novel dealing with several large and small themes that connect the two POV characters, Clytemnestra and Jaime, and is told in three parts with Jaime’s POV being bookended by Clytemnestra’s. Both POVs are told in first-person present tense, which gives the story a sense of presence and immediacy that works for it. The horror found in Part II is the most typical version as the longer the seven people are locked together in the hotel to avoid the ominous fog, the more their inner demons, desires, and weaknesses come out to create discord and a volatile gender divide. However, the horror is very much in the vein of Ira Levin’s “Rosemary’s Baby” or “Stepford Wives” where the everyday, systemic horrors of what is considered acceptable treatment of women is made manifest in the physical forms of “normal” people. Cly’s journey seems more like a framing device where the terror of facing herself, tragedy, obscurity, and all the daily specters she lets take pieces of her identity in exchange for willful ignorance is plainly established to set up Jaime’s reality.
Read Jovan’s review in its entirety here.
3.5 stars
The Gold Persimmon is billed as an experimental feminist horror novel dealing with several large and small themes that connect the two POV characters, Clytemnestra and Jaime, and is told in three parts with Jaime’s POV being bookended by Clytemnestra’s. Both POVs are told in first-person present tense, which gives the story a sense of presence and immediacy that works for it. The horror found in Part II is the most typical version as the longer the seven people are locked together in the hotel to avoid the ominous fog, the more their inner demons, desires, and weaknesses come out to create discord and a volatile gender divide. However, the horror is very much in the vein of Ira Levin’s “Rosemary’s Baby” or “Stepford Wives” where the everyday, systemic horrors of what is considered acceptable treatment of women is made manifest in the physical forms of “normal” people. Cly’s journey seems more like a framing device where the terror of facing herself, tragedy, obscurity, and all the daily specters she lets take pieces of her identity in exchange for willful ignorance is plainly established to set up Jaime’s reality.
Read Jovan’s review in its entirety here.
October 29, 2021
Moody, dreamy, evocative, surreal, and imbued with a deep sense of loss and longing--and lots of fascinating questions about identity--this queer horror novel was my introduction to Lindsay Merbaum's work and I am ready for more! My advice would be to avoid reading anything about the plot, just dive in, but I will add that those who are interested in structure will find the novel's organization of interest! (Think: Asymmetry by Lisa Halliday.)
October 19, 2021
THE GOLD PERSIMMON by Lindsay Merbaum is full of suspense supported by tight writing, quick pacing, and interesting characters. I found myself diving deep into the story with every page turned because Merbaum has truly mastered the narrative flow and there were no hiccups throughout. And this helped me become fully invested with this intriguing and unique plot, the format of the book with the parallel realities, and the excellent character development. This is definitely a book to go into blind with perhaps only knowledge of the provided plot. Seeing so many positive reviews rave about this made me boost this up the TBR and it was worth it! This book has been called "experimental queer feminist fiction" and I get it now that I have finished it. And you will, too!
October 3, 2021
Otherworldy, haunting, and surreal, this debut novel transported me to a world where characters are trapped figuratively and literally; trying to escape both the unseen and the seen. Each of the protagonists face nefarious forces, death, the trap some families create, old patterns, and imposing buildings with mysterious rooms, and they each must look for ways to survive. Author Lindsay Merbaum has created a maze of desire and longing for her characters and an unnerving and complex reality for the reader in this debut. Lush and elegant, raw and immediate, The Gold Persimmon has stayed with me long after reading.
October 18, 2021
Since it is almost Halloween, I'm tempted to say that this atmospheric novel is the perfect October read, but really, that would be too limiting. THE GOLD PERSIMMON is the perfect read for any month. It's a smart, compelling, surprising novel that takes on very relevant themes through the lens of horror. I will be thinking about the characters for a very long time. Highly recommended.
September 15, 2021
THE GOLD PERSIMMON by debut Lindsay Merbaum is dark, experimental queer feminist fiction. The novel is set in two hotels in two parallel realities in New York City. Part I begins at the Gold Persimmon, an austere and grossly expensive hotel where patrons can rent rooms and exorcise their crippling grief in privacy. Cly is a check-in clerk, and true believer in the hotel’s purpose. Its order and silence—almost holy—are interrupted when Cly breaks the rules and begins a toxic affair with a regular customer named Edith. Cly discovers Edith’s secret tragedy, and is forced to acknowledge her own.
Jaime, a nonbinary college graduate with student loans, is interviewing at an upscale sex hotel called The Red Orchid in part II. Jaime is instantly likable with wry humor brought to their unique perspective, as in this introduction:
“'Jaime.’ No one had mentioned pronouns, or used many yet. ‘They/them,’ I added too fast, sputtering, swallowing the last consonant. I’d lost my pronoun swagger. She nodded, still smiling blankly. She probably thought I’d given some odd last name.”
But Jaime’s job interview is cut short by an anomaly. A thick, gray mass covers the sky like “a thing God had been keeping back in his stable until now, eerily familiar, like meeting one’s own inevitable doom.” The majority of the hotel staff flee in terror, leaving Jaime with the manager, a security guard, the desk clerk, and three customers. The security guard insists on sealing off the exits because the mass looks toxic. Their phones lose signal. Jaime starts to fall in love with Zosiah, a hotel customer and likely a prostitute…
The reader enters Merbaum’s deliciously dark setup. The writing is excellent. The hotel backdrop teases out the comically absurd in giggling dildos and faux airplane bathrooms, and our more brutal natures in four-point restraints that are repurposed as the situation grows desperate—and violent.
THE GOLD PERSIMMON launches October 5, 2021. My thanks to the author and Creature Publishing for providing an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
Jaime, a nonbinary college graduate with student loans, is interviewing at an upscale sex hotel called The Red Orchid in part II. Jaime is instantly likable with wry humor brought to their unique perspective, as in this introduction:
“'Jaime.’ No one had mentioned pronouns, or used many yet. ‘They/them,’ I added too fast, sputtering, swallowing the last consonant. I’d lost my pronoun swagger. She nodded, still smiling blankly. She probably thought I’d given some odd last name.”
But Jaime’s job interview is cut short by an anomaly. A thick, gray mass covers the sky like “a thing God had been keeping back in his stable until now, eerily familiar, like meeting one’s own inevitable doom.” The majority of the hotel staff flee in terror, leaving Jaime with the manager, a security guard, the desk clerk, and three customers. The security guard insists on sealing off the exits because the mass looks toxic. Their phones lose signal. Jaime starts to fall in love with Zosiah, a hotel customer and likely a prostitute…
The reader enters Merbaum’s deliciously dark setup. The writing is excellent. The hotel backdrop teases out the comically absurd in giggling dildos and faux airplane bathrooms, and our more brutal natures in four-point restraints that are repurposed as the situation grows desperate—and violent.
THE GOLD PERSIMMON launches October 5, 2021. My thanks to the author and Creature Publishing for providing an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
April 18, 2022
A Joyfully Jay review.
Story: 2.5⭐️
Clytemnestra lives for the Gold Persimmon; the hotel “is a precisely ordered world full of musts and musn’ts,” and Cly is a strict adherent to its rituals and worships at the altar of its silence. She loves that guests are assigned individual check-in slots that prevent them from gathering to chat; loves the soundproofing that keeps the chaos of the outside world from intruding; loves the sense of identity being one with the hotel provides her. To Cly ,the Gold Persimmon is everything a person could want in terms of safety, protection, and absolute privacy. Yet, when a hotel guest persuades Cly to meet her at the end of her shift, Cly breaks the one irredeemable rule—no interaction with the guests outside your function as an extension of the hotel.
Newly minted college graduate Jaime finds herself following the prescribed path of aspiring writer with its stereotypical joys and obstacles—finding peace and escape in scribbling in notebooks while being harangued by an unsupportive parent to stick to the “correct” and acceptable path in both career choice and identity. Threatened with discontinuation of financial support, Jaime applies for a job at the Red Orchid hotel the same day an inexplicable fog engulfs NYC. What begins as a simple oddity that keeps Jaime, three guests, and three hotel employees from leaving the hotel becomes an increasingly bizarre and nightmarish game for control and dominance. Haunted and hunted in varying ways, Cly and Jaime stumble around their shifting realities as the walls they’ve built and rules they’ve clung to cease to exist; the cost of freedom potentially too high to pay.
"The Gold Persimmon" is billed as an experimental feminist horror novel dealing with several large and small themes that connect the two POV characters, Clytemnestra and Jaime, and is told in three parts with Jaime’s POV being bookended by Clytemnestra’s. Both POVs are told in first-person present tense, which gives the story a sense of presence and immediacy that works for it. The horror found in Part II is the most typical version as the longer the seven people are locked together in the hotel to avoid the ominous fog, the more their inner demons, desires, and weaknesses come out to create discord and a volatile gender divide. However, the horror is very much in the vein of Ira Levin’s “Rosemary’s Baby” or “Stepford Wives” where the everyday, systemic horrors of what is considered acceptable treatment of women is made manifest in the physical forms of “normal” people. Cly’s journey seems more like a framing device where the terror of facing herself, tragedy, obscurity, and all the daily specters she lets take pieces of her identity in exchange for willful ignorance is plainly established to set up Jaime’s reality. Cly is confronted by the outside force of Edith, the guest with whom she becomes entangled and is forced to interact with the loud, messy, emotional spillover of figurative demons, while Jaime is confronted by the physical spillover of inner demons given corporeal form.
While grief is the most explicit theme, in my opinion, the most important to the characters is the unknowable, unknown and escape. Both Jaime and Cly begin their journeys as insulated, fragmented people. Neither have any sense of self and cling to one idea as the monolith of their identity and means of escape—for Jaime this is being an aspiring writer, for Cly being a check-in clerk at the eponymous hotel or in her words a priestess of her temple. They navigate their mental, emotional, and external worlds based on this defining idea, and fall back on rigidly held behavioral norms to deal with the distracting, mundane assaults of anything that doesn’t pertain to the hotel or writing, the most notable being their parental interactions, as part of Jaime and Cly’s disconnect from their identities seem largely due to unstable, demanding, and unhappy mothers and quietly supportive fathers whose personalities have been subsumed by the fractious needs and unquenchable wants of their wives.
There are several different threads of connection and contrast between Jaime and Cly, and if you enjoy the writing style, many allusions and symbols to unpack. That being said, "The Gold Persimmon" just didn’t resonate with me. Some of it has to with the writing style and some from overblown expectations. Going in, I expected the writing style to play with structure and words choice, and initially, enjoyed Merbaum’s play on words and symbols. But as Part I progressed, I found myself disengaging from the story. Cly is named after a character in Greek legend, and as it’s a story I only have a vague familiarity with, I kept wondering if I was missing some important inversion or allegory to the myth as the metaphors and prose began bordering on overwrought or overly opaque more often. Is Clytemnestra a subtle inversion of the original and/or an associated archetype as her personality is completely opposite that of her namesake? Since Cly’s mother shares more in common with Clytemnestra of legend is this symbolic of Cly’s mother’s power over her/their intermingled psyches/Cly’s electra complex complicated by being a lesbian? And on and on. This also primed me for mythological nods in Part II, and even though I was familiar with the allusions, I noticed so I wasn’t plagued so much by questions of authorial intention, and the storyline is less dreamlike and muted than Cly’s, there was still nothing to connect me to the characters and their experiences.
Honestly, I just didn’t find anything new or revelatory in "The Gold Persimmon". I looked up what “feminist horror” meant to the writer/publisher, and to put it bluntly, they’re not even slapping a fresh coat of paint on the genre and calling it new, they’re just renaming red as cherry red and calling it new. As a fan of horror in literature and film from all eras, horror in its earliest inceptions has always been a useful and impactful vehicle for social commentary; from its roots in dark, aggressive folktales and myths to becoming its own fully-fledged genre, the monsters and terrors more often than not serve as avatars for cautionary tales, societal norm enforcement, and unrests of the day. So feminist horror being “storytelling which uses horror tropes to explore feminist issues” is not new, and neither in its use of horror tropes, myths, or symbolism did "The Gold Persimmon" plow virgin soil for me. Maybe I’ve just read too many articles and books on feminist discourse lately, but there aren’t any compelling new takes on familiar topics that spoke to me as a woman or a feminist. I think "The Gold Persimmon" may appeal more to readers who are new to horror, typically avoid the genre because it’s most known for violence/gore, and/or just want a story centering QUILTBAG characters as it’s esoteric style and queer perspective are the story’s defining features.
Story: 2.5⭐️
Clytemnestra lives for the Gold Persimmon; the hotel “is a precisely ordered world full of musts and musn’ts,” and Cly is a strict adherent to its rituals and worships at the altar of its silence. She loves that guests are assigned individual check-in slots that prevent them from gathering to chat; loves the soundproofing that keeps the chaos of the outside world from intruding; loves the sense of identity being one with the hotel provides her. To Cly ,the Gold Persimmon is everything a person could want in terms of safety, protection, and absolute privacy. Yet, when a hotel guest persuades Cly to meet her at the end of her shift, Cly breaks the one irredeemable rule—no interaction with the guests outside your function as an extension of the hotel.
Newly minted college graduate Jaime finds herself following the prescribed path of aspiring writer with its stereotypical joys and obstacles—finding peace and escape in scribbling in notebooks while being harangued by an unsupportive parent to stick to the “correct” and acceptable path in both career choice and identity. Threatened with discontinuation of financial support, Jaime applies for a job at the Red Orchid hotel the same day an inexplicable fog engulfs NYC. What begins as a simple oddity that keeps Jaime, three guests, and three hotel employees from leaving the hotel becomes an increasingly bizarre and nightmarish game for control and dominance. Haunted and hunted in varying ways, Cly and Jaime stumble around their shifting realities as the walls they’ve built and rules they’ve clung to cease to exist; the cost of freedom potentially too high to pay.
"The Gold Persimmon" is billed as an experimental feminist horror novel dealing with several large and small themes that connect the two POV characters, Clytemnestra and Jaime, and is told in three parts with Jaime’s POV being bookended by Clytemnestra’s. Both POVs are told in first-person present tense, which gives the story a sense of presence and immediacy that works for it. The horror found in Part II is the most typical version as the longer the seven people are locked together in the hotel to avoid the ominous fog, the more their inner demons, desires, and weaknesses come out to create discord and a volatile gender divide. However, the horror is very much in the vein of Ira Levin’s “Rosemary’s Baby” or “Stepford Wives” where the everyday, systemic horrors of what is considered acceptable treatment of women is made manifest in the physical forms of “normal” people. Cly’s journey seems more like a framing device where the terror of facing herself, tragedy, obscurity, and all the daily specters she lets take pieces of her identity in exchange for willful ignorance is plainly established to set up Jaime’s reality. Cly is confronted by the outside force of Edith, the guest with whom she becomes entangled and is forced to interact with the loud, messy, emotional spillover of figurative demons, while Jaime is confronted by the physical spillover of inner demons given corporeal form.
While grief is the most explicit theme, in my opinion, the most important to the characters is the unknowable, unknown and escape. Both Jaime and Cly begin their journeys as insulated, fragmented people. Neither have any sense of self and cling to one idea as the monolith of their identity and means of escape—for Jaime this is being an aspiring writer, for Cly being a check-in clerk at the eponymous hotel or in her words a priestess of her temple. They navigate their mental, emotional, and external worlds based on this defining idea, and fall back on rigidly held behavioral norms to deal with the distracting, mundane assaults of anything that doesn’t pertain to the hotel or writing, the most notable being their parental interactions, as part of Jaime and Cly’s disconnect from their identities seem largely due to unstable, demanding, and unhappy mothers and quietly supportive fathers whose personalities have been subsumed by the fractious needs and unquenchable wants of their wives.
There are several different threads of connection and contrast between Jaime and Cly, and if you enjoy the writing style, many allusions and symbols to unpack. That being said, "The Gold Persimmon" just didn’t resonate with me. Some of it has to with the writing style and some from overblown expectations. Going in, I expected the writing style to play with structure and words choice, and initially, enjoyed Merbaum’s play on words and symbols. But as Part I progressed, I found myself disengaging from the story. Cly is named after a character in Greek legend, and as it’s a story I only have a vague familiarity with, I kept wondering if I was missing some important inversion or allegory to the myth as the metaphors and prose began bordering on overwrought or overly opaque more often. Is Clytemnestra a subtle inversion of the original and/or an associated archetype as her personality is completely opposite that of her namesake? Since Cly’s mother shares more in common with Clytemnestra of legend is this symbolic of Cly’s mother’s power over her/their intermingled psyches/Cly’s electra complex complicated by being a lesbian? And on and on. This also primed me for mythological nods in Part II, and even though I was familiar with the allusions, I noticed so I wasn’t plagued so much by questions of authorial intention, and the storyline is less dreamlike and muted than Cly’s, there was still nothing to connect me to the characters and their experiences.
Honestly, I just didn’t find anything new or revelatory in "The Gold Persimmon". I looked up what “feminist horror” meant to the writer/publisher, and to put it bluntly, they’re not even slapping a fresh coat of paint on the genre and calling it new, they’re just renaming red as cherry red and calling it new. As a fan of horror in literature and film from all eras, horror in its earliest inceptions has always been a useful and impactful vehicle for social commentary; from its roots in dark, aggressive folktales and myths to becoming its own fully-fledged genre, the monsters and terrors more often than not serve as avatars for cautionary tales, societal norm enforcement, and unrests of the day. So feminist horror being “storytelling which uses horror tropes to explore feminist issues” is not new, and neither in its use of horror tropes, myths, or symbolism did "The Gold Persimmon" plow virgin soil for me. Maybe I’ve just read too many articles and books on feminist discourse lately, but there aren’t any compelling new takes on familiar topics that spoke to me as a woman or a feminist. I think "The Gold Persimmon" may appeal more to readers who are new to horror, typically avoid the genre because it’s most known for violence/gore, and/or just want a story centering QUILTBAG characters as it’s esoteric style and queer perspective are the story’s defining features.
June 29, 2021
"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.
:::Note::: I received a complimentary digital copy of this book on NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
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.
:::Note::: I received a complimentary digital copy of this book on NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
June 15, 2021
This book was a slow burn, then all of a sudden I was completely terrified at two in the morning, unable to put it down. Rich characters and a slight sense of constant disorientation kept it interesting, and complexity of personal relationships, authentically portrayed, was satisfying. There's nothing more terrifying than what's in your own head. I'll be thinking about this for a while.
August 5, 2021
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 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.
October 8, 2023
I liked this but I feel like I’ve read better. Personally, I didn’t love that there were different story lines in this book. I thought both of the stories were good enough but they weren’t very scary. Overall, I thought it was meh.
October 9, 2021
Would you want to work in an exclusive hotel that provides the utmost privacy for its guests? Cly relishes her job at the front desk at the Gold Persimmon, which provides staggered check-ins and unobtrusive service to its sensitive grieving clientele. There are strict employee rules, one of which Cly breaks when she begins a relationship with one of the hotel guests.
As Cly’s story comes to a close, Jaime goes for a job interview at The Red Orchid, an exclusive hotel for a completely different set. Jaime is unsure about working at a sex hotel, but before the interview is over, a strange fog closes in on the city and Jaime is trapped in the hotel with a handful of employees and guests. A creeping terror, reminiscent of Stephen King’s The Mist, arrives as Jaime, the guests, and the employees try to maintain order and sanity under the circumstances. Will they survive the unidentified menace?
Be prepared for some twists and turns in this suspenseful read with a cast of characters in transition. Cly is exploring her sexuality while enduring her critical mother’s interference. Jaime is seeking a comfort zone as a non-binary person in a world just beginning to understand what that means. Both characters are in tense situations, albeit in completely different ways, and grow to find the strength to act on their instincts of self-preservation.
Give this unique experimental horror novel a read. The main characters are engaging and their LGBTQ perspectives give the story depth with a modern edge. Merbaum has gifted readers two stories in one with a creative synergy that takes the whole to the next level.
As Cly’s story comes to a close, Jaime goes for a job interview at The Red Orchid, an exclusive hotel for a completely different set. Jaime is unsure about working at a sex hotel, but before the interview is over, a strange fog closes in on the city and Jaime is trapped in the hotel with a handful of employees and guests. A creeping terror, reminiscent of Stephen King’s The Mist, arrives as Jaime, the guests, and the employees try to maintain order and sanity under the circumstances. Will they survive the unidentified menace?
Be prepared for some twists and turns in this suspenseful read with a cast of characters in transition. Cly is exploring her sexuality while enduring her critical mother’s interference. Jaime is seeking a comfort zone as a non-binary person in a world just beginning to understand what that means. Both characters are in tense situations, albeit in completely different ways, and grow to find the strength to act on their instincts of self-preservation.
Give this unique experimental horror novel a read. The main characters are engaging and their LGBTQ perspectives give the story depth with a modern edge. Merbaum has gifted readers two stories in one with a creative synergy that takes the whole to the next level.
December 9, 2025
2.25 stars.
I don't think I was clever enough for this book. The Gold Persimmon follows two alternate universes that either mirror one another or influence one another, both dealing with grief, isolation, complicated family dynamics, and personhood. It sounded like a great premise, but I didn't really get what Merbaum was trying to do here. Right when we were getting into one narrative—that of desk-employee Clytemnestra, who uses her hotel as a way to escape her complicated home life and who's recently found herself having an affair with a married guest—we switch to the other narrative. A good chunk of the novel follows nonbinary Jamie, who ends up trapped inside their hotel with several strangers and who experiences fear and violence not from the outside threat blanketing the city, but the misogynistic, transphobic hotel employee trying to take control of the group (this was the horror that terrified me). I liked certain conversations around gender and womanhood, creative endeavors, and the way Merbaum built in details that at first glance seemed small but later became relevant to the plots, and the writing on a prose-level was solid. But there was nothing I clung to, nothing that struck me as impressive or subversive, nothing I'm going to remember in the long run. Basically, I couldn't tell you why these were two stories that needed to be told.
I don't think I was clever enough for this book. The Gold Persimmon follows two alternate universes that either mirror one another or influence one another, both dealing with grief, isolation, complicated family dynamics, and personhood. It sounded like a great premise, but I didn't really get what Merbaum was trying to do here. Right when we were getting into one narrative—that of desk-employee Clytemnestra, who uses her hotel as a way to escape her complicated home life and who's recently found herself having an affair with a married guest—we switch to the other narrative. A good chunk of the novel follows nonbinary Jamie, who ends up trapped inside their hotel with several strangers and who experiences fear and violence not from the outside threat blanketing the city, but the misogynistic, transphobic hotel employee trying to take control of the group (this was the horror that terrified me). I liked certain conversations around gender and womanhood, creative endeavors, and the way Merbaum built in details that at first glance seemed small but later became relevant to the plots, and the writing on a prose-level was solid. But there was nothing I clung to, nothing that struck me as impressive or subversive, nothing I'm going to remember in the long run. Basically, I couldn't tell you why these were two stories that needed to be told.
November 25, 2025
2.5 stars
I'm really torn about this book because the first part I really liked, and I was hooked immediately, but after those 80 or so pages, I found myself bored with the other two parts of the book. I found Cly's story and wished there was more of her. I felt her story was rushed and suffered because we quickly rushed into Jamie's story. I didn't find Jamie's story as interesting as Cly's, but I think that comes down to Cly's story being so interesting to me and having a lot more tension.
Jamie's story is more of a classic horror side, whereas I felt that Cly's was more of a psychological thriller, and I really gravitated towards the latter rather than the former. However, I can't deny that the writing is strong and the hotel setting in both is interesting and sends your mind into a spiral as you try to figure out why the hotel is slightly off and whether it is the hotel or our narrators that are causing this warped reality. I really like stories based on places that are familiar but slightly off, which causes you to be on edge, and I think this book does nail that feeling and setting.
I'm really torn about this book because the first part I really liked, and I was hooked immediately, but after those 80 or so pages, I found myself bored with the other two parts of the book. I found Cly's story and wished there was more of her. I felt her story was rushed and suffered because we quickly rushed into Jamie's story. I didn't find Jamie's story as interesting as Cly's, but I think that comes down to Cly's story being so interesting to me and having a lot more tension.
Jamie's story is more of a classic horror side, whereas I felt that Cly's was more of a psychological thriller, and I really gravitated towards the latter rather than the former. However, I can't deny that the writing is strong and the hotel setting in both is interesting and sends your mind into a spiral as you try to figure out why the hotel is slightly off and whether it is the hotel or our narrators that are causing this warped reality. I really like stories based on places that are familiar but slightly off, which causes you to be on edge, and I think this book does nail that feeling and setting.
July 28, 2022
What an engaging read! Loved the way Lindsay Merbaum presents these two realities with atmospheric elegance. The characters are strong and fascinating, and I enjoyed the homage-like nods to Stephen King, not just The Mist, but also The Shining in that the hotel (or in this case, two hotels) come across as full-on characters in the story. Don’t let the “horror” label deter you if the traditional approach to that genre is not your thing. This is an artful, interpersonal, and introspective novel expertly painted with the brushes grief, anxiety, and gender identity.
August 10, 2021
Another Goodreads reviewer (Deborah K.) said of The Gold Persimmon that it “is a tightly written, atmospheric novel whose eerie settings act almost as characters, amplifying the suspense and tension.” And I thought to myself, “Yes! I could not have said it any better.” The story is told in parallel realities: one of Cly, who is “cloistered in her own reality” and works at The Gold Persimmon, and one of Jaime, a “young, nonbinary writer” who becomes trapped in a sex hotel. So many themes rise to the forefront in these two realities—grief, shame, pain, authenticity, love, sexuality, trauma, and more—I was haunted by the complex personalities of every character. Merbaum does a fabulous job of creating a unique, captivating story, and I look forward to whatever comes next!
July 23, 2024
Really disappointing. Beautiful cover though
December 10, 2021
Dark, mesmerizing, unique...those words perfectly describe The Gold Persimmon by Lindsay Merbaum. I was drawn in by the compelling characters and the hotel worlds they inhabit. The book focuses on the characters of Cly and Jamie, and most of the action takes place at a mysterious hotel. The outer challenges each character faces mirror their internal struggles. This book is a little real world, a little sci-fi, and little fantasy, and the result is a fascinating blend.
October 29, 2021
This book is a physical shock.
December 16, 2021
Riveting. Atmospheric. Merbaum's writing softly hooks an electrified finger around your collar and pulls you into a world like and also unlike the familiar one in the most unsettling ways. Worth every hour of lost sleep!
May 3, 2022
I hesitated to read this book because I read in bed at night and well, horror. But it did not feel like horror so much as simply human, which is sometimes, by definition, horror. Not at all what I expected, this book is filled with striking tight prose and the full gamut of human emotion.
“The grief was there next to him, a thing she couldn’t see but felt. In a second it lunged out of the dark, swallowed him whole.”
I want to come back and read this gem again when I can pay more attention, now that I’m not worried that a scary deranged clown will jump out of the closet and make me scream. If this is horror, I’m here for it.
“The grief was there next to him, a thing she couldn’t see but felt. In a second it lunged out of the dark, swallowed him whole.”
I want to come back and read this gem again when I can pay more attention, now that I’m not worried that a scary deranged clown will jump out of the closet and make me scream. If this is horror, I’m here for it.
August 6, 2022
I didn’t get this book at all. There were two separate stories that had some vague similarities but never really converged. Literally no questions are answered. I think the author was trying too hard to be artsy and mysterious and it just is a slow, boring mess that doesn’t make sense.
July 5, 2021
I received a digital copy of this book from the publisher through Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.
"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 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.
September 21, 2021
This debut novel gives you everything you could possibly want from a queer, feminist, darkly literary, surreal, experimental story.
This one is a bit like a nesting doll, with one story (parts 1 and 3) providing the wraparound for another (part 2). But unlike most stories with this structure, Merbaum's tales are linked by parallel reality.
What I loved about this book was it's interest in liminality. Hotels are imminently liminal—they are only waystations, meant to be anonymous and resided in temporarily. The characters, too, are living in in-between spaces, metaphorically as they look for themselves or to reinvent themselves and literally when they become trapped in the hotel. Queerness is often a liminal space, with fuzzy boundaries delineating gender and gender expression. The characters here grapple with this too, from experiencing a lesbian relationship for the first time to stumbling over how to introduce themselves and their pronouns.
Part 2 has the structure and atmosphere of a murder mystery: a small group of strangers are locked in a hotel together and they start disappearing. There are clashing personalities and different ideas about how to handle the situation, and it turns deadly. Though the story lives in a dreamy space, there was also taut tension and engaging action.
Though it is a strange and experimental story, to be sure, Merbaum's confident and expressive writing does not betray the fact that this is her debut novel. It feels so easy, something that is difficult to say about experimental prose. I can't say that I understand exactly what was going on during this whole narrative, but it didn't matter. I wanted to follow the characters and see where the story would take them.
My thanks to the publisher for my advance copy of this one.
This one is a bit like a nesting doll, with one story (parts 1 and 3) providing the wraparound for another (part 2). But unlike most stories with this structure, Merbaum's tales are linked by parallel reality.
What I loved about this book was it's interest in liminality. Hotels are imminently liminal—they are only waystations, meant to be anonymous and resided in temporarily. The characters, too, are living in in-between spaces, metaphorically as they look for themselves or to reinvent themselves and literally when they become trapped in the hotel. Queerness is often a liminal space, with fuzzy boundaries delineating gender and gender expression. The characters here grapple with this too, from experiencing a lesbian relationship for the first time to stumbling over how to introduce themselves and their pronouns.
Part 2 has the structure and atmosphere of a murder mystery: a small group of strangers are locked in a hotel together and they start disappearing. There are clashing personalities and different ideas about how to handle the situation, and it turns deadly. Though the story lives in a dreamy space, there was also taut tension and engaging action.
Though it is a strange and experimental story, to be sure, Merbaum's confident and expressive writing does not betray the fact that this is her debut novel. It feels so easy, something that is difficult to say about experimental prose. I can't say that I understand exactly what was going on during this whole narrative, but it didn't matter. I wanted to follow the characters and see where the story would take them.
My thanks to the publisher for my advance copy of this one.
August 7, 2021
I was lucky enough to read an ARC of this novel, and I loved it. Merbaum's prose is absolutely exquisite and the story itself is vivid and riveting. There are two parallel storylines in the novel, and I'm going to read this book again and again trying to figure out how they intersect--or if they even do. The novel put me in mind of what would result if Erin Morgenstern wrote a horror novel with a lot of input from David Lynch. (I don't want to say which Lynch movie the novel reminded me of because that could spoil the story, which would be a shame.) This is not a novel that offers you simple answers about what's going on, but I'm going to enjoy rereading to figure that out for myself. Highly recommended!
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