Tag: latinx

Review: Hurricane Season

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Review for “Hurricane Season” by Fernanda Melchor (2020)

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

Trigger Warnings: rape, incest, sexual assault, homophobia, extreme violence (particularly toward women), bestiality

In a small Mexican village, a local witch has recently been discovered dead, floating in an irrigation canal under “a mass of black snakes.” What follows this disturbing scene are seven chapters, each one paragraph long, from the point of view of a character who is either connected to the murder or directly involved in it. The chapters also give backstory: allegedly a long time ago the witch killed her husband and cursed his sons, she performed abortions and herbal cures, the witch was not a woman but really was a man, she hosted sex orgies at her place, and she possessed a horde of treasure deep within her home. The storytelling here is lurid and unreliable, the language is foul. This book does not attempt to sort out the truth, because whether or not the character’s stories about the witch are true or false is not the point. The bottom line is that the woman at the center of this story serves as the village’s scapegoat, someone upon whom shame, secrets, and sins dwell.

As was previously stated, each chapter is a paragraph. Sentences go on forever, there’s no stops or quotations to be found. The characters narratives often digress, get back on track, then digress again. The language is vulgar, and yes, there’s some really obscene acts here (see above trigger warning). Normally I hate this kind of storytelling but considering the content, I think it was pulled off quite well here. It definitely moved the narrative at a fast pace and to give the sense that the true intent of the nasty stuff is not so much to shock you, but for you to understand the rage and hopelessness that’s at the center of this book. Rape, extreme violence, copulating with animals–there’s really no topic that’s off limits or taboo. But instead of preaching against these things, the author demonstrates the detrimental effects of what homophobia, misogyny, poverty, and police corruption do to a small community. The focus here is clearly brutality toward women and gay people, and this story’s proximity to the truth is what makes this book such a difficult read.

Do I recommend this? Yes and no. This is certainly not the book for everyone. For those who are into experimental novels and don’t believe in censorship, read on. For those who are triggered by foul language and extreme violence, I would avoid this one. I gave this book four stars, however, because it takes a lot of balls to even write something as messy and thought provoking as this.

Review: The New David Espinoza

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Review for "The New David Espinoza" by Fred Aceves (2020)

Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars

“The New David Espinoza” is a very well written book about a topic that’s rarely explored in YA fiction. The story centers around David, a Latino teenager dealing with past trauma, specifically, the recent death of his mother. Compounding his troubles is the fact that David is relentlessly bullied in school due to his small size. When a viral video surfaces of him being assaulted by classmates, David decides that he’s had enough and begins to change his diet, work out obsessively, and join a gym. He gives himself one summer to build his physique and ‘unveil’ his tougher, more muscular look to his peers. His path takes a dark turn when he befriends another aspiring bodybuilder and gets involved in steroid use to achieve his transformation.

Once again, I liked this book because it explores a topic that’s rarely explored in a lot of YA books I’ve read. Body dysmorphia is very real, yet a lot of books don’t explore the male side of this highly misunderstood psychological disorder. There’s also a lot of very thoughtful explorations on bullying and toxic masculinity here that I think teens will benefit from.

This is the second book I’ve read from Fred Aceves. I will continue to read his work in the future.

Four and a half stars.

Review: Children of the Land

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Review for "Children of the Land" by Marcelo Hernandez Castillo (2020)

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

“Children of the Land” is Mexican-born poet Marcelo Hernandez Castillo’s personal and familial experience with immigration and becoming an American citizen. Castillo first came to the U.S. with his undocumented parents as a child. They settle in California, where ICE agents frequently raided their home and his father was deported back to Mexico. To ‘become invisible’ to arrest and detection by authorities, Castillo does well in school and learns, in his words, “perfect” English. He goes to college and eventually receives American citizenship through the DACA program, first set into place under the former President Barack Obama.

Through DACA, Castillo is able to visit his father in Mexico. Although their relationship is strained, he assists his father in the long, fraught process of getting a green card. While this attempt proves unsuccessful, it is only after his father is kidnapped by a violent drug cartel that Castillo is able to help his parents seek asylum in the U.S.

This book is raw and spares no details of America’s dehumanizing immigration system. I would certainly recommend this over “American Dirt” because it is a represents a Latinx view of the lives of the undocumented and the myriad of dynamics (social, familial, personal) that come with it.

Review: Ordinary Girls

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Review for "Ordinary Girls" by Jaquira Diaz (2019)

Rating: 5 out of 5 stars

I loved this book fiercely. I was pretty much hooked from the first page, a done deal.

Jaquira Diaz was born on the island of Puerto Rico, living in the housing projects there until her family moved to Miami Beach when she was a little girl. There, Diaz witnessed the dissolution of her family: her father sold drugs and became emotionally distant, her mother’s declining mental health cause her to eventually descend into severe drug use. There is also physical violence present in the home, mostly from her older brother and her drug-addicted mother. The only stability Jaquira finds is in her paternal grandmother and her younger sister, who is stuck in the same hellish familial nightmare that she is in. In addition to all of this, there’s the quagmire of young Jaquira trying to figure out her racial identity. Even though she is proudly Puerto Rican, her mother (blonde haired and green eyed) is White, her father is dark skinned, curly haired, and unapologetically Black. This causes much family conflict, as Jaquira recalls, with her maternal grandmother mocking her darker skin color and the first in her life to call her the n-word.

As a teenager, Jaquira channels her family dysfunction into full-on rage. After a suicide attempt at 11, she is stuck in a cycle of going nowhere: fighting with other girls, getting suspended from school, drinking, drugs, and running away. After several stints in juvenile for violent behavior, she drops out of high school at 16 (though she later earns a GED). Married at 17, she eventually enlists in the Navy, though her attraction to women doesn’t earn her any friends there either. After more family dysfunction and personal strife, Jaquira finds her voice as a writer.

Once again, I loved this book. The writing here is organized thematically and less around a structured, linear narrative order. This is all ok though, as I think it takes the most extreme level of courage to even begin to write like this. Diaz does not flinch or shy away from some very deep, dark truths.

Five stars. I’d read this again if I could.