Straddling the testimonial narrative and essay, The Hangover of Memory (“La resaca de la memoria”) tells the story of a character referred to as “I.” An “I” in the third person who, belonging to the second generation of Chile’s dictatorship, is permeated by the memories of others and by the traces of a receding memory. The book’s title, The Hangover of Memory, reflects this phenomenon and points to the double meaning of the word “hangover”: the debris left behind by ocean waves, and the malaise one wakes up with (or, in this case, is born into) the day after intoxication.
The daughter of survivors who sought refuge in Mexico, “I” extends the exile in France, as if fleeing a tragic family destiny. Indeed, “I” is also the niece of Miguel Estay, alias El Fanta: one of the most emblematic and controversial perpetrators of the dictatorial period. Sentenced to life imprisonment for crimes against humanity, this former left-wing militant betrayed dozens of members of the Communist Party, and ultimately participated voluntarily in one of the most atrocious crimes of that era, the so-called “Case of the Throats Slashed.”
“I,” the daughter of victims, explores the remnants of imprisonment, torture, and exile clinging to her skin, trying to identify everything that binds her to the other “stragglers of memory” of her generation. “I,” the perpetrator’s niece, delves into that other grim zone of History, asking what part of that legacy belongs to her and how to confront it from an ethical and political standpoint. In search of her family past, the character thus embarks on an adventure: she returns to Chile, joins the 2019 social uprising, meets other descendants of genocidaires, co-founds a collective with them, encounters some of her uncle’s victims, and discovers the existence of an unknown cousin—the daughter of the perpetrator.
To invent one’s own narrative amid secrets, distortions, lies, and unbearable truths: such is the challenge she is confronted with—a challenge as immense as the price to be paid.

A country in the throes of dictatorship, a repressive group operating in the shadows: torture, murder, disappearances, clandestine detention centres. And a young soldier, Andrés Valenzuela. Papudo, his village. “Papudo”, his nickname. A young soldier who gradually descended into hell.
One morning, he decides to ‘tell everything, spit it all out, down to the last detail. Even if they come after me. Even if they kill me for deserting.’ ‘It doesn’t really matter: you’re already dead. They stole your soul.’
Andrés Valenzuela was the only agent who, while on active duty, deserted after handing over information to the Vicariate of Solidarity about the structure and extermination practices implemented by the secret organisation of which he was a member. Here is the story of a living dead man. And what happened before: a humble childhood, dreams and fantasies, friends from the neighbourhood, a fisherman father. And what happened after: the strangeness of exile, clandestinity, heartbreak, guilt – always guilt. Many journalists, writers, and filmmakers have endeavoured to tell the story of Papudo, the torturer; Papudo, the murderer; Papudo, the penitent. The story of Papudo, the man, is now told by him.

This book gives voice to Andrés Valenzuela, a deserter from the Air Force Intelligence Service and former operative agent of the Joint Command during the Pinochet dictatorship. Assuming the paradox of someone else’s autobiography, it collects his last and longest testimony, sealed by a letter in his own handwriting. Why did you break down? Why at that moment and not before? Why you and not others?
From Papudo to Hell. Autobiography of Andrés Valenzuela Morales (“De Papudo al infierno. Autobiografía de Andrés Valenzuela Morales”) raises these and other questions.

A she-wolf who wants to be free, but can she survive without her pack? Lucy wants to escape from the territory of her father, a powerful and fearsome politician, who is also a prominent organized crime boss in northern Mexico. Her attempt to escape does not follow a well-defined plan, which is why she is captured by Treviño, one of her father’s faithful henchmen. But Lucy does not give up, even if in her escape she loses almost everything: her comfortable life, her handful of friends, her lovers, her bodyguard… Everything, except her gun. But this is only the beginning: in her tender years she will get to know degradation, death, misery, perhaps incest. Maybe her vague hope of escape will not come true. Maybe her wolf-pack is bigger than she imagines. Maybe there is no escape. But Lucy is nothing if not determined, and all her experiences give her new strength to take on whatever may happen.

She-Wolf (“Loba”) is a fast-paced and dizzying novel about the abysses of the human soul and Mexican society today, a novel that by its unlikely extremes gives you the most unexpected and clearest insights, and with a long-lasting reverberation in the reader’s mind.

Monterrey, north Mexico: By the side of the powerful drugs lord Julio, the student Fernanda lives an extravagant life: parties, sex, and plenty of money. In return she devotes herself unconditionally to her man, with a love that is to change to its cruel opposite when Julio is no longer the one Fernanda used to know.

Fernanda is a young woman who has everything and yet, haunted by her own past and the lack of control over her own life as the lover of a narcotics boss, she descends into a downward spiral of dependence and violence. Brave Bitch (“Perra Brava”) is a fast-paced, powerful novel, in which glamour, wealth and beauty are mere facades of corrupt Mexican society.

In her novel Sisters (“Hermanas”), which draws on autobiographical elements, Gisela Antonuccio tells the story of two unequal sisters in Argentina at the turn of the millennium. Vanesa is the adopted daughter of a middle-class Italian couple. When she is three years old, the couple has a biological daughter, Lorena, who not only suffers from various health problems but also turns out to be the more challenging child in other aspects. The older sister, very obedient and rule-oriented, soon becomes the true caretaker and educator of Lore, as both parents spend their days away from home in pursuit of prosperity for the family. This tightens the bond between the sisters. However, when Lore reaches puberty, conflicts erupt, and Vanesa finds herself powerless against her sister’s verbal and physical attacks. The question of her own identity increasingly takes center stage. Vanesa leaves for Italy with a scholarship in search of her roots, while Lore deviates further from the path and even seeks treatment multiple times for her drug addiction. Despite all their outward distance, the sisters remain connected and ultimately reunite in a consolidated relationship, with the possibility of newfound happiness.

Antonuccio narrates this poignant story, written in concise prose, from the immediate perspective of experience. In brief chapters, she immerses Vanesa into the recalled scenes, giving them intense presence and significant psychological authenticity. The conflict with her sister and the feeling of being lost evolve into existential questions about one’s place in the world.

Sisters is the construction of two possibilities of being in a story, of the bifurcation of paths to find each other again, of love, finally, unconditional. With concise and forceful prose, Gisela Antonuccio creates a moving story of surrender, forgiveness and roots.

Scalpel (“Bisturí”) is a dark novel about loss and vengeance. After becoming concerned about an illness, Santiago’s father consults Dr. Mansano and undergoes medical procedures that ultimately end his life. Santiago, determined to avenge his father’s death, murders Dr. Mansano. Although he acted with great caution, Santiago is forced to flee. On his journey, we learn about the thoughts that cross his mind and the small actions he has to take in order to avoid detection. With the help of his mother, friends, and family, he manages to go unnoticed, but on his return home, he discovers that everything he thinks he knows is, in reality, a lie

In Shared Rooms (“Habitaciones compartidas”) Roque, a professor of Hispanic literature in New Zealand, lives with his family far from his native Mexico. It is a quiet and even monotonous routine. One day he receives an email from Diego Valente, who has been hired by the same university and who, given his imminent arrival in New Zealand, asks for Roque’s advice on how best to acclimatise to his new environment. Diego arrives with the charming Lia and their two children. For Roque and his family, the arrival of Diego’s family seems providential, since they are the first fellow-Mexicans to come and live in the same place where they themselves have been living for the last seven years, and they hope this will bring some fresh air to their lives. However, what looks like a rosy future will become for both couples an almost nightmarish scenario, especially when Roque discovers that Diego brings with him a secret that is a heavy burden not only for him. Shared Rooms is a fascinating novel that, entering into the intricate relationships both within and between couples, explores with rare authenticity the deepest of human emotions: love, fidelity, inner exile and the meaning of our lives, all expressed in very agile prose and with a sharp sense of humour.

The Last Breakfast (“El último desayuno”) is a detective story based on real facts: the murder of a student on a university campus serves as the thread of the plot. Roque, the protagonist, is a Mexican professor at a New Zealand university. He has the impression that the police and his colleagues think he is responsible for the crime. In this situation, it does not help that after separating from his wife he is going through a period of mental instability, nor that he cannot remember the details of his relationship with Sara, the murdered student. While Roque tries to hide his fear and discomfort, he concentrates on finding a solution to all his problems and circumstances: the relationship with his ex-wife and children, his lovers, his role as resident in a foreign country. The author weaves a story of intrigue extending far beyond the detective story, where the real conflict is human frailty itself.

Rogelio Guedea’s latest novel Secret Lives (“Vidas secretas”) tells the story of a perfidious scheme. The Mexican Roque de la Mora teaches Spanish at a university in New Zealand. Although very attracted to his student Natasha, he resists her obvious advances – until he gets a nasty surprise.

The Crime of Los Tepames (“El crimen de Los Tepames”) is the last part of the captivating Colima trilogy. Two brothers are brutally murdered in the usually quiet town of Los Tepames. Abel finds out that some mining companies were quite interested in their land. As he digs deeper, he finds himself in a swamp of murderous corruption from which there is no escape. Once again, Guedea fascinates the reader with his strong language and his outstanding style. The book was among the bestselling books in Mexico’s most important bookstore, Librería Gandhi.

Colima/Mexico: in the heat of an election campaign, the governor’s brother is found assassinated with a 41-calibre bullet. Has he fallen victim to a serial killer or is the opposition party behind it? Based on a true story, the novel 41 paints a merciless picture of present-day Mexico.

In The Brothers Corona (“Conducir un tráiler”), the young Abel Corona goes looking for his girlfriend, taking a lift from a truck driver who is involved in the drugs trade. When he steals money from him, Abel starts fearing for his life. Then his brother Ismael is found dead, and Abel is confronted with an old family feud: a fight over land ending in death. Is he being lured into a trap, to fall victim to revenge?

Reading is a highly enjoyable craft, as Guedea shows in his narrative essay Business: reading (“Oficio: leer”). In the form of short fictional pieces based around the works of well-known writers such as Cioran, Bolaño, Greene, Pessoa, Kafka and García Márquez, he awakens our desire for turning pages.

In his new book Gastronaut in Mexico. How resistance is fuelled (“Gastronauta en México. Cómo se alimenta la resistencia”), the award-winning journalist and author takes us on a culinary journey of discovery through several states of his adopted home, Mexico.

Through a traditional churipo recipe from Nahuatzen, Michoacán, we learn about the desperate efforts of the indigenous people to gain a degree of autonomy in their country, where organised crime does not even stop at the water-intensive cultivation and export of avocados. In Morelos, we sweat it out with the author in a temazcal before eating pork ribs, a traditional pre-Hispanic steam bath and shamanic ritual in a dome-shaped lodge, representing the womb of Mother Earth. In Comala, Colima, we visit a confectioner who still masters the art of Ante Colima, a baroque-style giant sweet that takes several days to prepare. The cultivation of amapola in Hueyáhuatl, Guerrero, is also a tradition, although the good times for farmers have long since given way to the production of fentanyl. Dessert is served by a lawyer who prefers to make and sell his own ice cream so that he has time for what he really loves in life.

The passionate chef and adventure traveller Mastrogiovanni makes full use of the power of travel and narrative journalism, experiencing cuisine as a lens through which to understand culture, socio-political reality, and life itself. A life in which nothing is as constant as perpetual change and in which tasting and partaking is as important as in the ancient gesture of sharing bread. Gastronaut is a plea to celebrate life with dedication and love and to enjoy it with all our senses.

 What can be done when everyone knows that a country’s institutions are made up of ruthless, corrupt, dishonest, and unscrupulous people?
What can be done when that same society is made up of citizens who not only allow but also carry out, participate in, support, keep silent, hide, and cover up one hundred twelve thousand disappearances?

With what strength do we keep moving forward? And also, how and why, despite everything, do we continue to fight?

This Is Where the Homeland Ends (“Aquí acaba la patria”) aims to capture the human experience of the border. The author delves deeply into the condition of the emigrant as an existential state, he talks about identity, he talks about who we are together with where we are and when we are. Mastrogiovanni manages to combine honesty and solidity with introspection, reflection and content, opening doors to the world, telling us stories of people and places, of other cultures and finally a lot about ourselves. Thus, we learn of the plague in Venice in 1348, of the legends of Tijuana, of Seneca‘s exile in Corsica, of the Comanche empire and of coffee cultivation, in a story that unfolds harmoniously with great irony. In this book, at the end of the last page, it becomes clear that the most important thing is the variety of characters who appear in it, and above all the reader himself. And it becomes clear that while the author did indeed tell a lot about himself, he has also taught the reader how to ride a bicycle, and it is up to the reader to decide whether he wants to ride on his own or not.

With The Assassin We Will Not Be. Melancholic Biography of a Gang Member (“El asesino que no seremos. Biografía melancólica de un pandillero“), the journalist Federico Mastrogiovanni has written a biographical chronicle of the life of Edwin, about his past in a gang, his experiences in numerous US correctional institutions, and his return to life outside. Edwin spent most of his life in the United States, where his single mother had found work. She could not dedicate much time to her children, and in their neighbourhood it was common for young people to form street gangs. The gang was like a family, the only thing that was safe. Violence and even murder was the order of the day. Then one day Edwin stabbed someone. During his years of imprisonment, Edwin, with an iron will, takes the time to educate himself and to train. Having served his sentence, and against all odds, he is able to build a second life from nothing, far away from his family: He works as an English teacher in a good neighbourhood in Mexico City, in a country that is new to him, and which he must get used to, now that he has been deported for life and has no possibility of returning to the United States.

The Assassin We Will Not Be reflects on the discrimination against Mexicans in the United States, addresses the inhumane violence of the prison system, especially solitary confinement and the deportation of undocumented Mexican offenders.

Neither Dead Nor Alive (“Ni vivos ni muertos“) is an important and extremely well-written book that examines through rigorous investigative journalism the tragic phenomenon of forced disappearance in Mexico, uncovering it as a rational and methodological construction designed to generate terror and annihilate dissident social movements and protests. Following the events of 26 September 2014 in Guerrero, where state forces were involved in the disappearance of 43 students of the Ayotzinapa Rural Teachers’ College, Mastrogiovanni’s work develops a new line of enquiry around this pressing issue.

Through interviews with families of victims, experts in violence and drug trafficking, historians, political scientists, activists, journalists, public servants and victims themselves, the author offers a series of explanations for this phenomenon, to which, with over 30,000 disappeared persons, a significant part of the population has been subjected. Mastrogiovanni’s research offers the tools to think further about the subject: are we facing a deceitful strategy based solely on economic goals? What can the forced displacement of entire populations actually entail?

What happens to the dreams we had as children? Where do the children we were end up? Where do all the pirates, the astronauts, the doctors, the footballers, the ballerinas that populated our childhood dreams go? Is there a place where dreams come to life? At night, while everyone sleeps, luminescence appears. Each of us has our own, and this creature of light does what we dreamed of being as children. They go out while we sleep and go to the office, they set sail in their galleons, they explore ancient tombs. Sometimes they do normal things, sometimes absurd. Yuri meets Catalina in the land of luminescence and the girl takes him on a journey that will lead him to discover an unknown and wonderful world, the world of the Luminescence (»Luminiscencias«).

Written in easily accessible language, La Rosa de la China (“The Rose of China”) is a captivating historical novel featuring vivid characters in an enthralling adventure story set in 17^th century Mexico. The beautiful Chinese woman Catarina San Juan is gifted with visions and special healing powers. When she meets the outlaw Rolando, a Chinese Samurai, they fall in love. Then Rolando’s sworn enemy tries to kidnap Catarina – will they escape his henchmen? Years later, Father Solís comes to La Puebla to impede Catarina’s canonisation. But in a hidden shrine, he finds Catarina’s diary, and the deeper he gets involved in her story, the more fascinated he becomes with the saint…

Two castaways meet one night in a bar. They know each other from the past, from when they were other people. One was a teacher and a football coach; the other, Darío, was his pupil. Now, to extinguish the memory, they drink with the same ferocious discipline, but Darío feeds on a pain that is still too vivid: of a night, nine years ago, in which two rival gangs of narco-traffickers finished off their town El Edén. That night, after curfew, Darío goes out with his girlfriend to look for his younger brother. In an explosion he loses Norma. Parra uses elegant narrative tricks that guide the reader with a beautiful and subtle rhythm through Darío‘s labyrinth of memories. Labyrinth (“Laberinto”) gives a voice to the victims, normal people who are simply “collateral damage” in a battle that is alien to them, giving space for human relationships and a love story that in all its intensity and passion illuminates the novel – love in times of war.

His stories are highly topical and he can be seen as a chronicler of the profound changes in his region, the North of Mexico. The deceptive proximity to the USA, beyond the Rio Bravo, decides upon the fate of the people who live there. The men leave, perhaps lucky enough to cross the river without being noticed, though often their first attempt fails and leads to death. The women stay behind in the inhospitable countryside, having to bring children into the world all on their own, waiting all their lives for their men to return. The stories in No Man’s Land (“Tierra de nadie”) and The Borders of the Night (“Los límites de la noche”) are exciting, sometimes erotic and mostly dramatic, even tragic. It is especially Parra’s language, simple but nevertheless precise, which touches the reader and gives his texts a timeless note.

In his first novel, Nostalgia for the Shadow (“Nostalgia de la sombra”), Parra delivers a study on the personality of a man, who initially kills in order to survive. This experience leads to the transformation from man to beast. Written from the perspective of the murderer, the novel forces its reader to identify with this role. Nostalgia de la sombra is a complex thriller, which increases the suspense by trapping its reader in a conflicting state of disgust and fascination.

It is 1873 in Santander, in the north of Spain. Magdalena and Juan are a married couple without many resources, whose desire to have children is not fulfilled. An miscarriage fractures their hopes and turns Magdalena into a sombre and uncomfortable figure. As the situation worsens, Juan decides to take his uncle at his word and they travel to the Jalisco Highlands in Mexico to change their future. This is the point of departure for a narrative that explores migration, revolutionary revolt, feminine subalternity and the resistance of the oppressed. From these threads, the perpetual wounds that will mark their descendants for generations to come, will take shape.
In the spirit of the new magical realism, with a sober and poetic language, surrounded by indigenous songs, prayers and incantations, In the Shade of a Dead Tree (“A la sombra de un árbol muerto”) tells of the life of those who face their destiny from the place they occupy long before they are born.

In August 1939, the Soviet Union and Nazi Germany signed the Ribbentrop-Molotov Pact in Moscow to divide Poland between them. In The Polish Girl (“La niña polaca”), Mónica Rojas tells the story of Ania’s family, deported from their native village of Komarno, in eastern Poland, to a Siberian gulag. Suddenly everything they had known, all the rituals of life, a happy and intimate environment, are lost and replaced by hunger, forced labour and death. Ania turns 15 on the train that takes them to Siberia, where they spend almost two years felling and stripping trees in winter, working in temperatures as low as minus forty degrees, sleeping in barracks where no one knows if the person sleeping next to them will survive the night, and always exposed to the violence and malice of the guards.

It was in this hell that Ania meets again the image of Cezlaw, her first love, dissipated between reality and imagination. And where she meets the serene Olga, an old woman enslaved in the gulag, who spends her days telling stories and reciting poems. Thanks to these two people, Ania is able to endure life until the liberation of the Poles following the amnesty signed at the leather and mahogany desks of the world’s leaders.

And now? And afterwards?
After crossing deserts and oceans, Ania and her family find a new homeland: Mexico. What does Poland have to do with Mexico? For them, everything and nothing. More than eight decades later, Ania and the Polish survivors of the gulag give voice to those who did not survive, to those who lost their homeland forever. And they convey a vital and hopeful message: a new homeland, a new future, can be found by preserving the memory of that loss.

What do a poor boy, a rape, a boxing promoter, and an abandoned family have in common? In Mónica Rojas’ novel these are the elements that make up the dramatic story of Lobo. Lobo is the nickname of Lupe Quezada, the novel’s protagonist, in the boxing world. Lupe lives in Tijuana with his sister Diana and his alcoholic mother, who has not got over being abandoned by her husband. Diana is repeatedly raped at work by José Luis, her boss, and Lupe is not prepared to tolerate it. In a one-on-one fight, the strong, burly rapist dies under his furious blows. What Lupe doesn’t know is that José Luis is part of the city’s organised crime scene. Soon he feels persecuted. But Aníbal, the boss who would normally do a simple settling of scores, is also a boxing fanatic with an old dream. Fascinated by young Lupe’s prowess, he offers him a professional career under his patronage. The scrawny Lupe accepts without a second thought because he knows he owes him his life and sees in the proposal the possibility of having some prospects in the world for him and his sister. After years of training, Lupe’s rise is dazzling and Aníbal is proud. Their relationship resembles more and more that of father and son. Lupe is willing to do anything to please his benefactor, including dirty jobs. He is totally focused on his career. The young Celeste, initially paid by Aníbal to have sex with Lupe, soon becomes his mistress and even the mother of his child, but Lupe has no feelings for her. Everything gets complicated when Lobo and Aníbal’s fiancée Ana meet and Lobo has to decide between a few moments of happiness and love, versus his loyalty to Aníbal.
Mónica Rojas masterfully immerses us in a story of passionate confrontation, where the human condition of the protagonists, linked to the desire to be and to exist, leads us to live and suffer first-hand the feelings of each of the actors in this novel.

There is a street in Mexico City formed like an ellipse. If you walk by it, you will find yourself passing by the same places again and again. This disturbing detail brings us into the world of Galo, a child who lives in this street and is trapped within his interpretation of a double family mandate: his father has told him “you’ll be a carpenter or you will not be anything,” whereas his mother has told him “my son will never leave this house.” Galo chooses to be nothing and not to leave his home. But the world and history end up coming to his home. After his father goes away with another woman, his mother rents out rooms which are occupied for a time by a Jewish family fleeing the Nazis, by a Spanish barber who escaped the civil war, and by some young Latin American revolutionaries. Galo observes and lives together with these people, trying to understand their ideals and their lives, which in turn will allow him to create his own view of the world and witness important events of the twentieth century.

The Guardian of Amsterdam Street (“El guardián de la calle Ámsterdam”) is a cool and bright book, relating both big and small dramas with humour. A deeply human book that tells a moving story and the possible ways of being in the world and transforming it through our actions. It raises many questions. Perhaps one of the most powerful is this: What can we contribute – from joy or from anger – to bring about what we think needs to happen?