In my experience, it’s not Midwestern Gothic to spot some smoky, many-tendrilled Cthulhu monster creeping out from its murky netherworld home between rows of corn while a harvest moon gleams above your shivering head.
It’s Midwestern Gothic to walk into a strip mall at 11:43pm, crying, wearing leaking $22 Target rainboots, wander into a Jewel-Osco next to a defunct K-Mart and a Family Dollar, steal a donut from the pastry case, stuff it into your parka, and then scarf it down in the mildew-covered bathroom with the busted lock on the door.
The Midwest is not a land of cornstalks and dilapidated barns anymore. It’s a land of flat, beige & grey monoculture, Pizza Huts and Radio Shacks, split-levels and broken trampolines in back yards. And what’s gothic about the Midwest is not fearsome otherwordly monsters, or the ghosts of farmer’s wives, or rusty scythes licked by the wind. No, what’s gothic about the midwest is the people, and how they feel, and what their economic and career prospects are.
pronunciation | ‘nU-mi-nus note | The word originated in religious usage, but it can be applied to natural experiences as well as supernatural. It can also mean “suggesting the presence of something holy or divine”.