What an incredible read! Not only was each story action-packed and really well-paced, but the collection itself is arranged in a way that escalates from the first page to the last. The horror here is a mix of realism and a bit of magical lore - which left me with goosebumps at times. I've never read anything quite like it! Though horror isn't really my thing, I couldn't get enough of Enríquez's stories! And unlike many collections which have been translated, I don't think too much is lost in the translation in this one. Definitely going to be picking it up to read again in the future.

I would absolutely recommend EVERYONE read this collection! ( )

En estos once cuentos el lector se ve obligado a olvidarse de sí mismo para seguir las peripecias e investigaciones de cuerpos que desaparecen o bien reaparecen en el momento menos esperado. Ya sea una trabajadora social, una policía o un guía turístico, los protagonistas luchan por apadrinar a seres socialmente invisibles, indagando así en el peso de la culpa, la compasión, la crueldad, las dificultades de la convivencia, y en un terror tan hondo como verosímil.

Con la cotidianidad hecha pesadilla, el lector se despierta abatido, perturbado por historias e imágenes que jamás conseguirá sacarse de la cabeza. Las autodenominadas «mujeres ardientes», que protestan contra una forma extrema de violencia doméstica que se ha vuelto viral; una estudiante que se arranca las uñas y las pestañas, y otra que intenta ayudarla; los años de apagones dictados por el gobierno durante los cuales se intoxican tres amigas que lo serán hasta que la muerte las separe; el famoso asesino en serie llamado Petiso Orejudo, que solo tenía nueve años; hikikomori, magia negra, los celos, el desamor, supersticiones rurales, edificios abandonados o encantados…

Mariana Enriquez es una de las narradoras más valientes y sorprendentes del siglo XXI, no solo de la nueva literatura argentina a cargo de escritores nacidos durante la dictadura sino de la literatura de cualquier país o lengua. Transforma géneros literarios en recursos narrativos, desde la novela negra hasta el realismo sucio, pasando por el terror, la crónica y el humor, y ahonda con dolor y belleza en las raíces, las llamas y las tinieblas de toda existencia ( )

All of these stories are great. And some I absolutely loved. If someone ever created an art series about these, I'd decorate my library with the prints. The stories are so incredibly beautiful and graphic. They'd make a good TV series too.

Enríquez's writing, translated by Megan McDowell, reminded me a lot of Francesca Lia Block's writing in that they both manage to infuse a lot of magic into the places and women they write about. It's darkly romantic and fantastical. This made me want to live in Argentina as much as Block has made me want to live in L.A. The stories were a mix of horrific, creepy, and ominous and all seemed to deal with different aspects of girlhood and womanhood.

My favorites were The Intoxicated Years, An Invocation of the Big Eared Runt, and Things We Lost in the Fire.

My only very minor complaint is that some of these felt like they ended too soon. I wanted more.

I can't wait to buy this in Spanish and explore more of Mariana Enríquez's writing. ( )

An interesting collection of short stories, many of which were dark. I was most fond of the final tale: one in which women burn themselves as a way to bring attention to their mistreatment. It's the kind of subversive idea I like, but that also possesses a kind of horror, which the author leans into. ( )

I wasn't quite sure what it make of this book when I started it. It turns out is is a great, but pretty depressing collection of short stories. It is a good mix of horror, suspense, intense, and a whole other set of descriptors for these stories. They were refreshing to read, but very heavy and one of those books that one has to be ready for. It is hard to describe, so just read it. Trust me, but be prepared. ( )