Review by Booklist Review
As wildfires surround Cuernavaca, a metropolis a few hours south of Mexico City, vibrant and ambitious friends (and occasional lovers when they were in high school) Natalia, Erre, and Conejo face the angst and ennui of middle age as their paths cross and diverge across a dystopian landscape. Natalia crafts the other axis of Saldaña París' intriguing novel: a performance inspired by Swedish "witches" who danced on Blockula island in the seventeenth century, boding nada bueno (nothing good) for the city. Each friend narrates one part--first Natalia, entranced by her bromeliads and fed up with the older lover she lives with; then Erre, back in his childhood bedroom, in chronic pain and reeling from a recent divorce; and finally, Conejo, who never left Cuernavaca, and who cares for his father, an academic who has gone blind. Conejo provides a sort of nucleus for the other two, along with weed. Poignant and compelling, this lyrical translation of Saldaña París' depiction of youth foundering into maturity against the backdrop of chaos, hysteria, and destruction is a solid add for all literary collections.
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
In the evocative latest from Saldaña París (Planes Flying over a Monster), a choreographer's visionary project shakes a Mexican city out of its collective slumber. The chapters alternate between the perspectives of Natalia, the choreographer, and two of her longtime friends, gradually revealing the history of their love triangle and their current circumstances as wildfires spread "throughout the state like an insidious rumor." Natalia lives with a much older artist in his villa, tending to her beloved bromeliad garden while devising a dance piece inspired by the "collective hysteria" of 17th-century witch hunts. Erre, Natalia's high school boyfriend, has returned from Mexico City following his divorce and struggles with a mysterious and painful condition. Conejo, who was once in love with Erre, lives with his blind father and dabbles in conspiracy theories. Natalia's performance, along with the encroaching fires, unleashes a Dionysian frenzy in the city, causing people to dance wildly in the street. The prose occasionally feels strained ("Coincidences are like oysters opening simultaneously, a choir of bivalves intoning the song of meaning," Natalia reflects). Nevertheless, Saldaña París executes some spellbinding moves, particularly as Natalia's work fuels a collective psychosis. This smoldering tale is worth a look. (July)
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Review by Kirkus Book Review
In a pressure cooker of a city, three middle-aged survivors survey the wreckage of their adult lives. Hallucinatory perception, the ephemeral nature of memory, and the intransience of art all come into play in this triptych of confessions from deepest Mexico. Here, Saldaña París leans less on the tragicomedy of the human condition to craft something a little darker and meaner about damaged people turning their hurt inward. The opener, "The Great Noise," is narrated by Natalia, a disaffected and unhappy choreographer who often falls back on cruelty. She's back home in Cuernavaca, barely tolerating her lover, Martín Argoitia, an aging art star-turned-bureaucrat. She's become obsessed with an artistic vision that encompasses, among other things, the British occultist Aleister Crowley, hysterical Swedish witch trials, the pioneering German dancer Mary Wigman, and medieval incidents involving a "dancing plague," all of which she intends to transform into a groundbreaking performance. The pinball of her teenage relationships is explored in subsequent sections with darker and darker undertones. In "A Clear-Cut Vision," we experience many kinds of suffering via Erre, a failed filmmaker and Natalia's high school boyfriend, who has returned in the wake of his divorce, suffering from debilitating nerve pain. He's a cheerful lot, logging his symptoms in a notebook and haunting Cuernavaca's desiccated parks, now under threat from encroaching wildfires. Erre's passage ends before Natalia's performance, but the final section, "Bioluminescent Beach," visits their childhood friend Conejo, who divides his time between caring for his blind father and retreating further from the world. What exactly happens during Natalia's performance is a mystery, but weeks later, Conejo describes a country just now recovering from a mass dancing outbreak. It doesn't make all that much sense but it's dark as a bad dream and--let's face it--its slippery nature is certainly part of the point. The show's over, ending with not much of an aftermath except ashes and regret. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
