I’m not a short story guy. I like a long, dense tale I can sink my teeth into. And there are so many Latin American writers who have penned beauties in that regard. Bolano, Marquez, Gamboa just to name a few.
Mariana Enríquez is known for her short fiction collections. I haven’t read them. But in reading the first fifth of this one, I can see why she is so acclaimed. The first part of this book is one of the more visually arresting tales I’ve come across, no exaggeration. It’s a supernatural horror that sets the stage for the rest of the story and oh, what a stage! I don’t like violence or grossness for the sake of but the way Enríquez writes the methods and machinations of the occult in this one really blew me away.
Unfortunately, save for a riveting flashback sojourn to England, the rest of the book reads like Stranger Things: Argentina or a mid-tier Stephen King work about youthful Messiahs.
Now don’t get me wrong, it is still very good beyond the first part. Enríquez’s specific cult: upper crust Euro-transplant Argentines preying on the Disappeared in the age of the military junta, functions as excellent social commentary. And she is a moving storyteller.
I just wasn’t as invested in the story beyond that first part, where many of the horror ritual elements disappear. Not all and there are still some moments but it doesn’t live up to the heights of the first part. And so I can see why Enríquez has such a reputation.
Good idea, good execution, not gonna hold the whole thing against her because it’s all very good. But that first part…whew.