This book does not linger in subtlety. The budding, slow-burn romance between Tristán and Montserrat is telegraphed from the beginning. Inner thoughts are projected to the point where revelations feel toothless, and key plot details are delivered in stiff dialogue. Moreno-Garcia couches this world in endless references to actors, directors, horror films, occultists and Mexican companies. At its best, it is a robust and haunting picture of 1990s Mexico City, its film scene hollowed out by neoliberal reforms and bad taste. Other times, the details weigh down the narrative ... After this throat-clearing is over, the novel picks up, taking on an electrifying rhythm as Moreno-Garcia’s inventive and carefully arranged supernatural mystery unravels.
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