Fruit of the Drunken Tree

(Note to self: avoid overuse of locomotive catastrophe similes. Go for something cheerier). There were bunny rabbits! We never got to see or hear about them, other than the fact that they existed, but they existed! Isn't that enough?

But let's be honest, this is not a book about bunny rabbits. This is a bleak, harsh, gripping story of life under barbaric conditions. My handful of childhood friends here on Goodreads may find it disturbingly reminiscent of PR's violence and corruption in the seventies/eighties, except this is markedly worse, but somehow the fact that it's so recognizable made it creepier for me. Me dieron escalofríos. I feel fortunate and humble. There but for etc etc.

Beautiful evocative prose. Stylistically, it's a gimmick that rarely works: writing an adult story from the perspective of a young child. Double, in this case: alternating first-person from a seven-year-old and a thirteen-year-old. You know the drill: narrator relates Meaningful Details clinically or curiously, innocently oblivious, but clearly details the author wants us to know so the reader tries to go with it for the sake of the story. And, oddly, I found myself going with it. I can't say that it truly worked, but it was effective: Rojas Contreras managed it better than almost all similar stories I've read. Her protagonists are believable. Both are children of narcissists; both come off as honest, genuine, letting us see how their best intentions – under impossible circumstances – lead to terrible mistakes which cascade.

Most interesting of all is the tone: Rojas Contreras balances hope, acceptance, and despair. Warmth, even. Humans go through bad shit; humans try to make the best of it; humans cope with what they have to; life goes on. I'm grateful for my privilege.

[UPDATE, few hours later: I wrote this paragraph, then cut it because I ran too long, and am now deciding to add it back. Slightly condensed.] I alternated reading this book with listening to the 2023-06-12 episode of Hidden Brain, Between Two Worlds, about the ethical dilemmas faced by those who emigrate away from hopeless environments. Obviously not the same – most people never get that choice – but there were surprising parallels: different weights given to factors that, as a youth, I weighted differently. I still do, but that podcast changed how I interpreted the last third of the book. It was a fortunate coincidence.