This is a debut novel?! Córdova’s command of language elevates this already unique and gothic folktale monster story into a deeply touching examination of grief, longing, and desperation.

At times reminiscent of the otherworldly and ethereal magical realism in Toni Morrison’s “Beloved”, and paralleling the humanist monster’s plight in “Frankenstein”, Monstrilio lures the reader in with an opening so shocking and unyielding in its forcefulness that one can’t help but plunge into the humane horror of Magos’ choices.

At no point does Cordova allow the reader to catch up and take a breath or to retain a sense of moral superiority by the end of the story. There hasn’t been a recent book where I’ve felt so certain that I knew who or what I was rooting for, only to have my whole understanding flipped around multiple times. This novel, as dark and as visceral as it is, was one of the greatest exercises in elastic empathy. Once I had staked my ground, I found myself having to repeatedly pick up and reposition my sense of right and wrong.

By the end, I was certain that no character was wrong, and that the unhappy and unfortunate tides of life cannot always be accounted for or outmaneuvered, and that the beauty of these gothic horror tales is in the resilience and stubbornness of their protagonists.

At its foundational level, “Monstrilio” is a story about love. A story about the lengths we will go to hold on to the memories and essences of lost parts of ourselves, about the insanity of loving until the end of all things, about the insistence and capability humans have to endure all pains and tortures for love.