Jennifer Givhan’s Salt Bones arrives like a fever dream born from the brackish waters of the Salton Sea, where the boundaries between reality and folklore blur as dangerously as the toxic vapors rising from California’s forgotten inland ocean. This isn’t merely a retelling of the Persephone myth—it’s a sophisticated excavation of generational trauma, environmental catastrophe, and the fierce maternal bonds that both protect and destroy.
The novel follows Malamar Veracruz, a mother whose worst nightmares crystallize when her younger daughter Amaranta vanishes in the same dust-choked borderland town where her sister Elena disappeared twenty-six years earlier. As Mal descends into a labyrinth of family secrets and supernatural encounters with La Siguanaba—a horse-headed woman from Latina folklore—the narrative becomes an unflinching examination of how communities cannibalize themselves to preserve their darkest truths.
A Landscape Character: The Salton Sea as Gothic Setting
Givhan transforms the environmental disaster of the Salton Sea into something approaching literary alchemy. The sea becomes a character itself, its sulfuric vapors and fish-bone shores serving as both metaphor and literal manifestation of systemic poisoning. The author’s background as both poet and environmental advocate infuses every description with ecological specificity—from the geothermal mud pots that “belch and splatter muddy water” to the mineralized bones that the sea strips and abandons.
The setting transcends mere backdrop to become a Gothic cathedral of American environmental racism. Givhan understands that horror doesn’t require supernatural elements when reality provides the contaminated groundwater, the migrant workers laboring beneath crop dusters releasing poison, and the generational health impacts of living in a sacrifice zone. The toxic landscape mirrors the toxic family dynamics, creating a unified field of dread that permeates every page.
Narrative Complexity: Multiple Voices, Multiple Truths
The novel’s structure resembles the fragmentary nature of memory itself. Givhan employs multiple perspectives—primarily Mal and her older daughter Griselda—to create a kaleidoscopic view of trauma’s transmission across generations. This technique could easily become chaotic, but Givhan’s precise control ensures each voice remains distinct while contributing to the larger mosaic of revelation.
Griselda’s sections, written with the analytical precision of a graduate student studying environmental science, provide scientific grounding that makes the supernatural elements more unsettling rather than less. When she examines bone fragments at the Salton Sea, questioning whether mineralization could occur in saltwater versus freshwater, the technical detail anchors us in reality just before the mythological undertow pulls us deeper.
The alternating perspectives also allow Givhan to explore how trauma stories change depending on who tells them. The same events take on different meanings when filtered through a mother’s protective instincts versus a daughter’s desperate need for truth. This multiplicity of interpretation becomes central to the novel’s exploration of how families construct their own mythologies to survive unbearable realities.
Folklore as Psychological Framework
La Siguanaba emerges not as a simple boogeyman but as a complex figure embodying the intersection of maternal protection and feminine rage. Givhan’s research into Latina and Indigenous folklore produces a nuanced portrayal that respects cultural traditions while using them to illuminate contemporary issues. The horse-headed woman becomes a manifestation of environmental and social toxicity, appearing to mothers whose daughters are threatened.
Carmen Ruiz’s recounting of La Siguanaba’s origin story—how she lost her own daughter to El Cucuy’s violence and was cursed with equine features for her vengeful response—provides crucial context. This isn’t arbitrary monster-making but a careful exploration of how patriarchal violence creates its own supernatural consequences. The folklore becomes a lens for understanding how communities process unspeakable traumas.
Key folkloric elements that drive the narrative:
La Siguanaba as environmental witness – Her appearances correlate with ecological disasters and missing girls
El Cucuy as masculine toxicity – The shapeshifting monster represents predatory behavior passed through generations
Persephone myth reimagined – The underworld becomes the toxic landscape where daughters disappear
Indigenous water ceremonies – Healing rituals that counteract environmental and spiritual contamination
Character Development: Flawed Humanity in Extremis
Mal Veracruz stands among the most compelling protagonists in recent horror literature. Givhan avoids the trap of creating a perfect maternal figure by presenting a woman whose protective instincts sometimes manifest as enabling behavior. Her relationship with Gus Castillo, a man the community calls “El Cucuy,” demonstrates how love and fear intertwine in traumatized communities.
The revelation that Gus is actually Griselda’s father, hidden for over two decades, could have been melodramatic exposition. Instead, Givhan uses this discovery to explore how shame shapes family structures and how secrets become toxins as persistent as the chemicals poisoning the Salton Sea. The complicated dynamics between Mal, her daughters, and her extended family create realistic tension that grounds the supernatural elements.
Amaranta emerges as more than a typical endangered teen. Her intellectual precocity and emotional vulnerability make her disappearance genuinely devastating. The chapters following her captivity, drugged with Ativan and hidden by her own uncle Esteban, achieve visceral horror through psychological authenticity rather than graphic violence.
Environmental Justice as Horror Framework
Perhaps the novel’s greatest achievement lies in its seamless integration of environmental justice themes with supernatural horror. The Callahan family’s multi-generational disposal of murdered girls in water tanks creates a literal contamination that mirrors the broader environmental devastation of the Imperial Valley. When rainwater filters through the remains, irrigating crops with bone fragments, Givhan creates an image that functions simultaneously as environmental metaphor and concrete horror.
The author’s knowledge of agricultural systems and toxicology informs descriptions that feel scientifically grounded. References to geothermal energy extraction, lithium mining for battery production, and the complex hydrology of the Salton Sea demonstrate Givhan’s commitment to environmental accuracy. This specificity prevents the novel from becoming abstract environmental allegory, anchoring the supernatural elements in recognizable ecological realities.
Strengths and Weaknesses: A Critical Assessment
Strengths:
Sophisticated integration of multiple genres without losing narrative coherence
Authentic portrayal of Mexican-American family dynamics and cultural traditions
Environmental themes that enhance rather than overwhelm the human drama
Complex female characters who resist simple categorization
Folklore elements that serve thematic purposes beyond atmospheric effect
Areas for improvement:
Occasional pacing issues during exposition-heavy middle sections
Some secondary characters (particularly the male Callahans) remain somewhat underdeveloped
The resolution, while emotionally satisfying, ties together plot threads with slight convenience
Supernatural elements sometimes overshadow the equally compelling realistic family drama
The novel’s greatest weakness might be its ambitious scope. Givhan attempts to address environmental racism, folklore traditions, family trauma, supernatural horror, and mystery elements within a single narrative. While she largely succeeds, certain plot threads feel underdeveloped compared to others. The vampire-obsessed Callahan twins, for instance, could have been integrated more effectively into the broader thematic structure.
Literary Context and Comparative Analysis
Salt Bones by Jennifer Givhan positions itself within the growing canon of contemporary Indigenous and Latinx horror, joining works like Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s Mexican Gothic and Ramona Emerson’s Shutter. However, Givhan’s environmental focus and folkloric sophistication create a distinct voice within this movement.
The novel’s exploration of generational trauma echoes Toni Morrison’s Beloved, while its environmental themes align with cli-fi authors like Paolo Bacigalupi. The supernatural elements recall the magical realism of Isabel Allende, but Givhan’s grounding in specific ecological and cultural contexts prevents the mystical from becoming abstract.
Similar reads for fans of Salt Bones by Jennifer Givhan:
Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia – Gothic horror with Mexican folklore
The Buffalo Hunter Hunter by Stephen Graham Jones – Indigenous horror with environmental themes
Shutter by Ramona Emerson – Contemporary Native American mystery with supernatural elements
Severance by Ling Ma – Post-apocalyptic fiction with immigrant perspectives
Ring Shout by P. Djèlí Clark – Historical horror with folkloric monsters
The Starving Saints by Caitlin Starling – Science fiction horror with maternal themes
Technical Craft: Language and Structure
Givhan’s background as an award-winning poet permeates her prose without overwhelming it. Sentences like “Thick, noxious air burns her throat as she flees through the fields, mud clotting to her soles like leeches” demonstrate her ability to create visceral imagery that serves the narrative rather than calling attention to itself.
The author’s use of Spanish throughout the text reflects authentic bilingual communication patterns rather than tokenistic inclusion. Phrases like “No hay paz cuando una familia has split itself into pieces” capture the code-switching common in border communities while remaining accessible to monolingual readers.
The novel’s structure, moving between past and present trauma while building toward revelation, maintains tension despite its complex timeline. Givhan uses chapter titles like “Daughters Disappear Here” and “Bad Sea” that function as poetry while advancing the narrative. This attention to language elevates the genre elements without pretension.
Cultural Authenticity and Representation
Givhan’s identity as a Mexican American and Indigenous author from the Southwest provides crucial authenticity to the cultural elements. Her portrayal of extended family dynamics, religious practices, and community relationships avoids stereotypes while acknowledging cultural specificities. The integration of curandera healing practices and Day of the Dead traditions feels organic rather than performative.
The novel’s treatment of environmental racism specifically affecting border communities demonstrates sophisticated understanding of how intersecting oppressions function. Rather than presenting simple victimization narratives, Givhan explores how communities develop survival strategies and resistance practices that honor cultural traditions while confronting contemporary challenges.
Conclusion: A Powerful Addition to Contemporary Horror
Salt Bones by Jennifer Givhan succeeds as both environmental thriller and family saga, creating a reading experience that lingers like the toxic vapors of its setting. Givhan has crafted a novel that honors folkloric traditions while addressing urgent contemporary issues, proving that genre fiction can carry serious literary weight without sacrificing narrative pleasure.
The book’s exploration of how environmental damage and family trauma reinforce each other provides insight into broader patterns of exploitation and survival. While the supernatural elements might not convince every reader, they serve essential thematic functions that justify their inclusion.
For readers seeking horror that engages with real-world issues while delivering genuine scares, Salt Bones offers a sophisticated and deeply moving experience. Givhan has established herself as a significant voice in contemporary literature, capable of bridging genre boundaries while honoring the cultural traditions that inform her work.
This is essential reading for anyone interested in the intersection of environmental justice and supernatural horror, demonstrating how the best genre fiction can illuminate truths that mainstream literary fiction often avoids. Salt Bones announces Jennifer Givhan as a major talent whose future work demands attention.