“A Light, Swift, and Monstrous Sound” — this story made me think of the increased emphasis that is being placed on the mental health of men and all of the ways in which the blame for said struggles are often shifted onto women. The significance of the man’s dentures falling out prior to him committing suicide reads like one final cry for help, one which he couldn’t verbalize—and when our protagonist did not respond to that cry, her neighbor attempted to commit one final act of violence against her as he killed himself. The fact of him being naked when he kills himself also reminds me of incel culture—his nakedness is his determination to make his sexuality known, to force it upon his neighbor. Both of these things seem to point to his expectation that his neighbor (and more generally, women) should have been more aware of his emotional state and done something to help him despite his never asking for help. Our protagonist being a dentist (and being willing to help her neighbor out with his teeth, no less) also seems to point to the expectation that she be a facilitator of emotional healing for her mentally ill upstairs neighbor—that she could have given him the tools to communicate and that she was somehow negligent by not doing so. The expectation that this man was owed something by his female neighbor pervades the story.

“Dishwasher” — this one was a confusing one, but from what I can gather, my interpretation is that Jane is bored by the comfortable uselessness of her life. She lacks real change and agency and feels empty (thus the holes in her brain) and maybe the smoke drifting out of her and trying v into crystals show she—and, by extension, her entire world—snuffs out any perceived impurities and transforms into something beautifully useless and transformative. Jane’s existence is one long, boring performance wherein she struggles to be as mild as possible.

“Earth” — this story doesn’t need much analysis from me, so I’ll just say that it is masterful and impactful. Definitely one of my favorites from this collection. Bazterrica writes about the suffering and pain of our nameless little girl with incredible skill. My heart hurts so badly after this one.

“The Dead” — there isn’t much to say about “The Dead” aside from the fact that it is a stunning portrait of grief and loss packed into the body of a little girl and I loved it so much. The depiction of Papá’s alcoholism, Mamá’s cries from the moon, our protagonist’s misguided views on the nature of purity and goodness are all so innocent and perfect. This story really does read like the words of a little girl trying to make sense of the loss she feels inside.

“The Solitary Ones” — I’m not sure why, but this one freaked me out the most. It lacks the violence that a lot of Bazterrica’s stories feature and it’s quite vague, but there’s something about the looming, unknown threat in this piece that pulled me in and refused to let me go. Why were “they” waiting for her, and what was their end goal? We’re left to fill in the gaps ourselves, though Bazterrica’s quips about our protagonist being a woman alone and her fear of falling into the clichés associated with that do help me to fill those holes with all sorts of horrific scenarios. In any case, this was a strong story to end the anthology on and it helps to cement Bazterrica’s unbelievable command of language in the minds of her readers.

This anthology is a really great read overall. Bazterrica is an incredible storyteller who manages to infuse each story with her distinctive and impressive voice. Her exploration of topics like sexual assault, pedophilia, grief, death, and more are as intriguing as they are unsettling.