youreawizardjerry's reviews
110 reviews

It’s rare to find a writer that can capture and break down complex emotion as imaginatively as CRG can. Cristina Rivera Garza's grief is palpable through her unique language on every page. Her writing is transcendent, leaving us with descriptions of life that all can feel but few could voice. Suffice to say… I am a big fan.
I loved that this book became a collection of communal grief, was never one of entertainment (although I was engrossed from start to finish). This is not "true crime" as a genre, this is reality. It came across as reading about someone closer than similar stories tend to feel, if that makes sense. The book brought me to take pauses wherein I had these repeating realizations that Liliana is gone and that is a constant for the Garzas and all who knew her. That this will continue to be their lives after we all close the book. Then I’d sob into the pages. As Cristina writes, the only difference between us and victims of femicide, is people we have & have not come across. 
I do wish there was a final connection between the introduction and ends of the story though, because we do not see the narrator's journey that is set up in the beginning culminate to anything within the book. I understand that the idea of what justice means shifted as Cristina sat with her sister's memory, but I wish she had expressed that conclusion in the text to bring it all together. Overall, this is a beautiful contemplation on remembering someone whose been taken from you, and an incredible feat of the heart. It was an honor to witness this intimacy and I’m certain it will stay with me forever. 

john green sr

Wow 5/5 incredible control throughout the entire collection, every single poem made me feel

This was SICK. Textbook and colloquial definition aha🤙 anyways
The almost stream-of-consiousness style of storytelling was difficult to get used to initially, but I gave it another chapter as a last shot at making it work and am glad that I did. In structure alone, Hurricane Season intimately captures the experience of sharing horror stories with friends. Additionally, the atmosphere and dialogue, down to the smallest quips, are crafted with a profound honesty. I've never read anything formally like this before but being Mexican it felt refreshingly familiar (not the subject matter [tho part of it] but the treatment of it) The larger thematics of the book are universal, but it hit strikingly close to home for me in a way I didn’t anticipate. I'm grateful for the opportunity to explore those emotions.

I read a review beforehand that noted this book had some of the most vile descriptions OP had ever read, and I... agree (I read brando's chapter while on the train and had to laugh at the absurdity of the pages contrasted with the morning peace of the commute LOL) But it is infinitely darker than traditional guts and gore of cuentos in this genre and I strongly advise checking the CWs to know exactly what you are signing up for when you open this up expecting just another haunted small town story. There is great sadness and evil in these pages above anything else, depicted in the rawest unrelenting fashion. It is absolutely NOT for a lot of people. 5/5 for the complexity captured and the prose, truly a great feat, especially when considering how easily it could’ve turned into profanity drivel in different hands. In an interview Fernanda said that she’d need therapy after writing this and I have a lot of respect for the authenticity that she reached for even though it strained her to that point. I will definitely read this again, but not for a very long time.

In all La Matosas of the world, there is so much violence where there need not be. If only a handful of things were different. It isn't fair but one day it can be because thankfully, witches never die. 

Really good. Such powerful parallels... didn't expect them at all. Hit me like a truck. 

Rooted in cliches and caricatures of rural people that make it a both predictable and very flat story. The spirit of what makes horror about rural America truly frightening is not at all found in the one-dimensionality of Brother. Underwhelming, not interested in continuing.

god!

I have been reflecting for days over why I can’t seem to fully embrace this for the masterpiece that it is. I enjoyed the visceral writing, I appreciate the melancholy of the story, I have virtually nothing negative to say about it, so why can I not seem to hold the story closer than an arms length away? I figured it out.

It…scares me. It took me so long to pinpoint this because as a frequent consumer of horror, very little media truly frightens me to my core like this has. Harpman resurrected a primordial fear that I've long since locked away. It’s watching Squidward trapped in the white room as a terrified child. It’s the Langoliers when the gang is in the empty airport. It is twilight zone broken glasses. It’s the dead world outside the car in the mist. It is my truest nightmare of old. I can’t even get past this fear long enough to contemplate the beauty of the possible interpretations—because there is a lot of beauty—endless allegories and interpretations could be pulled from this. It’s why it’s powerful. What world do we leave our “child”, which inherent humanities can you never take away from us…etc…there is a lot to get out of it…but I can’t ruminate for too long because I just don’t want to be near this, at least not right now. 

Maybe I’ll return to it willingly (because it certainly haunts me outside of my own accord) some future day. I am not here to dissuade tho, I still did “enjoy” it and devour it in one sitting. Just know before going in that this book is mislabeled and should definitely be in the genre "spookiest tomes of the millennia."

This book fell into my hands at the perfect time. I have desperately been wanting more stories about pockets of queer solace in poverty. About the grime in queerness and the pain that surrounds it in spaces that are inundated with suffering.  It sounds like a hyper-specific want, well yes but mostly no. Poor gays and what we do to live and love.

Douglas Stuart's stories never tip me over the edge with emotion. I always feel like a 7/8ths full glass of (sugary) milk in a cold apartment building, and because of that this rides the 4.5 to 5 line. But it truly is excellent all around. The comedy is brilliant, the construction is one of a kind, and the love is so honest. I most appreciated how Douglas painted ignorance within suffering. There is a complicated leniency we lead with as marginalized people in these marginalized spaces and this book captured that realistically (even up until the end when there exists a shift in what we accept). In places of suffering and struggle of course we hurt, and we'll hurt, but we are not alone—  and in that, there can/will be beauty. A vitally important piece of work.

But it isn't an answer. It's a question.
And I really loved the question. 
where there is asking there is hope yet. because where there is empathy there is hope yet.
ever powerful. RIP to the GOAT. le guin u ate this up