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A review by mackenzi
Things We Lost in the Fire by Mariana Enríquez
challenging
dark
mysterious
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
Reading this book was like the author taking me into a little apartment and sitting me down on a couch or at an intimate little table. She brings in a box, an old shoebox or a little decorative wooden box, and opens it up and it's full of time-faded photographs and polaroids. She takes them out one by one, tells me the name of the person in it as she looks at the dates and little notes written on them in all sorts of different handwritings. 1979, 1991, 1983, 1999- I try to imagine what each year might mean but it's hard for me to imagine a place I don't know well during a time I didn't exist yet. It's a thrill to get to peek in at these lives I'd have never otherwise known, but none of the people in the photos seem happy, and I'm filled with apprehension.
She tells me a story about each photo, a story she heard from a friend or a grandparent. Some of the names are the same from photograph to photograph, and I wonder if they're ever the same people displaced a little by time, still finding their way into stranger's photos just to be lost again. The stories are all a little sad, melancholic for their world-weariness, and all are frightening. Some scare me because ghosts scare me like they scare a child, some are scary because the world is just that way and I feel helpless about it.
Each story ends, abruptly, her voice fading into silence as she sets the photo on the table, making a little pile that she's already gone through. I ask what happened to the person, what happened next, and she shrugs, she doesn't know. So each story lingers, because my mind craves completion, resolution- but if you've ever stumbled onto old photos in an antique store, you know there's no resolution. You can stare at the faces in the pictures all day and never know who they really were. And each story haunts because there seems like a world of things in that story, and I want to sift through each one to try and find the meaning, the lesson, the history, the knowledge of someone who might have lived it for real.
But they're still just photographs and eventually she runs out of them, and she's putting them back in the box and she's taking the box away again, and I'm left with a handful of memories that feel startlingly real.
She tells me a story about each photo, a story she heard from a friend or a grandparent. Some of the names are the same from photograph to photograph, and I wonder if they're ever the same people displaced a little by time, still finding their way into stranger's photos just to be lost again. The stories are all a little sad, melancholic for their world-weariness, and all are frightening. Some scare me because ghosts scare me like they scare a child, some are scary because the world is just that way and I feel helpless about it.
Each story ends, abruptly, her voice fading into silence as she sets the photo on the table, making a little pile that she's already gone through. I ask what happened to the person, what happened next, and she shrugs, she doesn't know. So each story lingers, because my mind craves completion, resolution- but if you've ever stumbled onto old photos in an antique store, you know there's no resolution. You can stare at the faces in the pictures all day and never know who they really were. And each story haunts because there seems like a world of things in that story, and I want to sift through each one to try and find the meaning, the lesson, the history, the knowledge of someone who might have lived it for real.
But they're still just photographs and eventually she runs out of them, and she's putting them back in the box and she's taking the box away again, and I'm left with a handful of memories that feel startlingly real.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Eating disorder, Misogyny, Mental illness, and Child death
Moderate: Death, Drug use, Drug abuse, Murder, Physical abuse, Child abuse, Suicidal thoughts, Violence, and Religious bigotry
Minor: Sexual assault, Police brutality, Hate crime, and Sexism
MOST of these are brief mentions or descriptions. However, if it is brought up in a short story, usually the short story will revolve around those themes even if it does not describe or portray the issues explicitly. Go into this collection aware that, however brief, the intention of the author is to bring to light many real-world things in a creepy, eerie, or supernatural way, but a way that resonates deeply. In my opinion, it is mindfully executed with a deft and subtle hand. The author writes from cultural experience.