Hey everyone, now that the last discussion post for Things We Lost in the Fire by Mariana Enríquez has gone up, let's discuss the book as a whole.

Things We Lost in the Fire’ by Mariana Enriquez (Review) ‘Things We Lost in the Fire’ by Mariana Enriquez (Review)

The “propulsive and mesmerizing” ( The New York Times Book Review) story collection by the International Booker-shortlisted author of The Dangers of Smoking in Bed While the actual events of the dictatorship are usually implicit rather than explicit, one story that does refer to these years is ‘The Inn’. This one sees two teenage girls playing a midnight prank in a hotel that used to be a police academy. Talk about the ghosts of the past is usually metaphorical, but when you start to hear banging on doors and the deafening sound of marching feet, it’s another matter entirely. There’s a nice link here between the dark nature of the stories and the country’s turbulent past, and in her short translator’s note, McDowell confirms the connection: He leído mal a Mariana Enríquez. Tenía que haber empezado con este libro de relatos y haber ido avanzando hacia adelante en su bibliografía. Así habría ido observando cómo su técnica narrativa, su voz, sus imágenes… se iban puliendo y afilando hasta, finalmente, alumbrar esa oscura obra maestra que es «Nuestra parte de noche». Pero lo he hecho en el sentido contrario (y erróneo). Empecé por su gran novela, esa que me dejó sin aire en los pulmones, y después fui avanzando hacia atrás con sus libros más importantes.

Things We Lost in the Fire is a searing, striking portrait of the social fabric of Argentina and the collective consciousness of a generation affected by a particular stew of history, religion and imagination. Mariana Enriquez has a truly unique voice and these original, provocative stories will leave a lasting imprint.” — The Rumpus Young women in Enriquez’s stories have a distinctly irreverent shade to their characters, often rebelling against societal expectations, explicit instructions, and parental guidance. In Adela’s House, a young girl enters an abandoned house against the advice of her parents and her own instincts, and never resurfaces, ‘not alive or dead’. Once again, her disappearance is never solved, and the people who loved her are destroyed by the loss. In The Inn, two girls experience a ghostly encounter while trying to set up a prank in empty guest rooms. When about to lie down together, a symbol for the sexual relationship that the main character, Florencia, would like to pursue with her friend, Rocío, they are interrupted by the cacophony of men shouting, car motors, boots stomping – the ghostly sound of state terror and horrific political crimes. There is a sense that the blossoming of these girls’ sexuality and self-knowledge is interrupted by Argentina’s tumultuous recent history, a sense of the impact of intergenerational trauma. Sometimes I think the crazies aren’t people, they’re not real. They’re like incarnations of the city’s madness [...] if they weren’t there we’d all kill each other” I think the other issue is that the stories were not concluded. They all ended on some odd cliffhanger, which was quite frustrating when I was expecting a couple of notable climaxes, you know, in an attempt to save this collection.

THINGS WE LOST IN THE FIRE | Kirkus Reviews THINGS WE LOST IN THE FIRE | Kirkus Reviews

The angel baby doesn’t look like a ghost. She doesn’t float and she isn’t pale and she doesn’t wear a white dress. She’s half rotted away, and she doesn’t talk. The first time she appeared, I thought it was a nightmare and I tried to wake up. When I couldn’t do it and I started to realize she was real, I screamed and cried and pulled the sheets over my head, my eyes squeezed tight and my hands over my ears so I couldn’t hear her—at that point I didn’t know she was mute. But when I came out from under there some hours later, the angel baby was still there, the remnants of an old blanket draped over her shoulders like a poncho. She was pointing her finger toward the outside, toward the window and the street, and that’s how I realized it was daytime. It’s weird to see a dead person during the day. I asked her what she wanted, but all she did was keep on pointing, like we were in a horror movie. A un cuento no debe faltarle ni sobrarle nada, debe ser redondo, como un globo perfecto. Mi impresión es que Enriquez infla el globo con un gas potente que inmediatamente inicia un prometedor ascenso que augura un vuelo audaz y vistoso (El carrito, Rambla triste, El mirador, Chicos que vuelven) que al final no se produce: el globo sufre un pinchazo abrupto y cae hecho un guiñapo. Jerry is still struggling with his addiction but seems to be well on his way to recovery. He leaves red flowers on Audrey's doorstep with a note that reads "Accept the good," a phrase which Jerry himself had told Brian, and that Brian had subsequently said to Audrey many times. Lo que más me gusta de los cuentos de Mariana es el contexto urbano en el que se desarrolla mucho de su terror. Siendo alguien que vive en la Ciudad de México, me resulta curioso cómo veo reflejados muchos miedos que me genera esta ciudad, con lo que la autora imagina en escenarios argentinos. Exploring in monstrous form the true crime genre and violence against women, Enriquez’s short story collection remains relevant in 2021.The other stories used gore and disgust to obtain the horror element, so basically that meant a whole lot of mentions of vomit and faeces, which in overuse, actually doesn't add a single thing to one's stories.