Things We Lost in the Fire

Did not finish because I really felt that this wasn't the book for me. Dipped my toes into a genre and realized I was not equipped for it. Still worth a read if you like horror, just not for me.

  ‘'The gaucho is good,'' he said. ‘'But the other one isn't.'' He said it in a quiet voice, looking at the candles. ‘'What other one?'', I asked. ‘'The skeleton'', he said. ‘'There are skeletons back there.''
Uncompromising women. People in the margins of their society. Citizens fighting against tyranny. Black magic. Folklore. Haunted buildings. Haunted souls. Threat and compassion. Fight and terror. Despair and persecution. Violence and disbelief. Toil and disillusionment. 
In Mariana Enriquez's world, you need to tread carefully. Once you enter her universe, there is no going back. The macabre, the raw, the real. Life is waiting for you...
The Dirty Kid: A poignant story about a dilapidated neighbourhood, children forsaken and lost, a brave woman and the futility of trying to help. A tale of Santa Muerte, Pomba Giro, and Gaucho Gil.
The Inn: A story about a mysterious provincial town, dark buildings and the relationship between two teenage girls. A solemn (and insolent) marriage of teenage sexuality and the terror of the State.
The Intoxicated Years: A company of teenage girls try to cope with broken families and all kinds of disappointment by consuming drugs, drugs and more drugs during the years of the daily power cuts and the deep poverty in Argentina.
‘'The house tells us the stories. You don't hear it?''‘'Poor thing,'' said Pablo. ‘'She doesn't gear the house's voice.''‘'It doesn't matter'', said Adela. ‘'We'll tell her.''And they told me.About the old woman, whose eyes had no pupils but who wasn't blind. About the old man, who burned medical books out by the empty chicken coop, in the backyard. About the backyard, just as dry and dead as the front, full of little holes like the dens of rats.About a faucet that never stopped dripping, because the thing that lived in the house needed water.''
Adela's House: A sad, haunting story about three brilliant children and a strange house. What starts as a typical ‘'haunted house'' tale becomes a sinister cautionary tale. I loved it!
An Invocation of the Big-Eared Runt: A guide specializing in True Crime tours in Buenos Aires is suddenly haunted by Argentina's worst serial killer, the murderer of children. The images of Orehudo's crimes and the difficulties at home create a haunting combination. The closure will stay with you...
‘'I don't like the word chicharra; I wish they were always called cicadas, which is only used when they're in the larval stage. If they were called cicadas, their summer noise would remind me of the violet flowers of the jacaranda trees along the Parana or the white stone mansions with their staircases and their willows. But as it is, as chicharras, they make me remember the heat, the rotting meat, the blackouts, the drunks who stare with bloodshot eyes from their benches in the park.''
Spiderweb: The trip to Paraguay takes a very strange turn for our sympathetic narrator, her spirited cousin and the worthless piece of mear that is actually her husband. Dictatorship, local legends, nightly dangers form an enticing mixture of the crazy and the solemn. Who weaves the web and or whom?
End of Term: A painful -literally - story of a girl who practically mutilates herself, haunted by a man and the girl who tries to help her. Dark, haunting and raw.
‘'Vera and I will be beautiful and light, nocturnal and earthly; beautiful, the crusts of earth enfolding us. Hollow, dancing skeletons. Vera and I - no flesh over our bones.''
No Flesh Over Our Bones: A young woman becomes obsessed with an abandoned human skull.
The Neighbour's Courtyard: A social worker whose unspeakable negligence led to disaster believes that a boy has been kidnapped and tortured by her neighbour. This story had potential but ended up being a rather dubious commentary on mental health. Not to mention that it was disgusting. There is a difference between the raw and the uncanny and the violent just for the sake of shock value. I was angry and disgusted.
‘'In his house, the dead man waits dreaming.''
Under the Black Water: A nightmarish story of a woman who tries to find the murderer of a teenage boy, a slum city full of violence and death, and the cult of the dead. In my opinion, this was the finest moment in the collection and a powerful commentary on the violence and discrimination against the ones who live in the margins of a troubled society full of corruption and crime.
Green, Red, Orange: A story about the terrible hikikomori phenomenon, the lethal dangers of the Internet and mental health. Very poignant and acute in its honesty.
Things We Lost In the Fire: I averted my eyes from the page quite a few times while I was reading this story. Not because of disgust but because of rage and a striking feeling of despair and helplessness. When men start committing unspeakable crimes against their wives, the women decide that it is time to pay them back. Them and the society that allows this to continue. Domestic violence is seen under a raw, poignant light in the story that concludes a demanding, ‘'difficult'' collection.
You can't sit and wait for others to defend you. They won't. You have to stand your ground and have the guts to attack (mercilessly and uncompromisingly) when your dignity is threatened. This has been my motto and my compass for 36 years and it sure as Hell won't change now!
Outstanding translation by Megan McDowell who also penned a superb Translator's Note.
‘'Do you know the kind of foulness that reaches us here? The shit from all the houses, all the filth from the sewers, everything! Layers and layers of filth to keep it dead or asleep. It's the same thing, I believe sleep and death are the same thing. And it worked, until people started to do the unthinkable: they swam under the black water. And they woke the thing up. Do you know what ‘Emanuel' means? It means ‘God is with us.' The problem is, what God are we talking about?''
My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/




 

2025 Reading Challenge ~ [2/12]

“Las cosas que perdimos en el fuego” de Mariana Enríquez es una antología de terror que destaca, paradójicamente, cuando se aleja de los elementos más explícitos del género.

La colección alcanza sus momentos más brillantes cuando prioriza la construcción meticulosa de atmósferas, la incorporación de elementos históricos y culturales argentinos, y la exploración profunda de las obsesiones de sus personajes. En contraste, pierde fuerza cuando recurre a recursos más convencionales del género como el body-horror o los sobresaltos gratuitos.

Entre las joyas de la colección destacan “La casa de Adela”, cuya efectividad radica precisamente en la ambigüedad de su misterio central; “Tela de araña” —quizás el mejor del conjunto—, que nos sumerge en una experiencia febril de tensión sostenida que nunca afloja; y “Nada de carne sobre nosotras”, que logra demostrar que lo perturbador puede transmitirse sin recurrir a lo explícitamente grotesco.

En el otro extremo encontramos relatos como “Fin de curso” o “El patio del vecino”: historias competentes pero más dependientes de elementos mórbidos para generar impacto. Resulta curioso que Enríquez, conocida por su estilo descarnado, logre sus puntos más altos cuando opta por la sutileza sobre el impacto frontal.

Como nota crítica, hacia el final de la colección se vuelve notoria cierta repetición en la caracterización de los personajes masculinos, presentados casi invariablemente como figuras negativas (agresivos, idiotas, insensibles o todas a la vez), mientras las protagonistas femeninas permanecen atrapadas en dinámicas tóxicas con ellos, sin hacer nada. Si bien este patrón podría responder a una intención feminista —especialmente evidente en el cuento que da nombre a la colección—, la reiteración sistemática termina diluyendo su potencial impacto.

A pesar de sus altibajos, la colección demuestra el talento de Enríquez para manipular las convenciones del género terror, alcanzando sus mayores logros cuando confía en la construcción atmosférica y la profundidad psicológica por encima del horror explícito y asqueroso.

Burnings are the work of men. They have always burned us. Now we are burning ourselves. But we're not going to die; we're going to flaunt our scars

This book is beautiful written, it tells complex stories that explore a range or difficult topics like poverty, domestic violence, isolation in way that only horror can do. However I wouldn't say this is a book for the faint of heart all of it feels very very real and can be very graphic so make sure you read the content warnings before you dive in. Some stories I contected to more than others and the last one that the book is named after “The Things We Lost In The Fire” was absolutely beautifully heart breaking and I very much contected to it.

3:

Okay. I got the crap spooked out of me. Well... kinda. Anthologies tend to be sort of like mixed bags of goodies, and this was no exception.

The first story, El Chico Sucio, I read at night, sitting by myself in the front porch of my hotel room in Panama. I finished it and hurried along inside, doing my damnednest not to look behind. Then it was the same with La Hostería, where I looked up every time someone walked by because I was so creeped out. But the hidden jewel in here is for damn sure La Casa de Adela and brother, I was planning on getting a drink of water after writing this, but it's now 4AM and I've changed my mind. I'm sure I can wait until it's light and sunny outside.

Bajo el Agua Negra was a nice blend of creepy and gross and infuriating, but for the rest of the stories I wasn't as affected as I'd expected. By far, my biggest letdown was El Patio del Vecino. It had so much potential, but in the end it seemed silly to me and kind of revolting. Also it made me think about my cats who I'd left at home and it got me worried about them. Maybe it was more effective than I'm giving it credit for.

I haven't read a lot of Latin American horror, but I'm seeing a pattern of it being used for social commentary, which isn't all that unusual, and I appreciate it because it's mainly issues that most of us Latinos have witnessed in each of our countries.

A stunning collection of short stories, most gritty and some supernatural but all painting a vivid picture of Buenos Aires: beauty and culture alongside poverty, violence, drugs and corruption.

The writing is poetic and eminently readable and every story holds its own in the collection. ⭐️5/5⭐️

“No lo veo, no deja que lo vea, que nadie lo vea” Una colección de 12 cuentos que van a resonar en mi cabeza durante muchísimo tiempo. Mariana tiene la capacidad de mostrar lo horrible, el terror, de una manera genial

4

Mis favoritos fueron:
• El chico sucio
• Pablito clavó un clavito: una evocación del Petiso Orejudo.

Estoy fascinada con la escritura de Mariana. No necesita recurrir a mucho -a veces ni profundizar tanto- para crear y que te sumerjas con ella en esa atmósfera terrorífica. La verdad sí me dió miedito y algo que siempre me pasa con las recopilaciones de cuentos es que necesito “descansos” entre cada uno para ‘empezar se cero' pero con estos solo quería seguir y seguir

these stories were compared to shirley jackson (aka my favorite horror author), but i honestly think these were far superior

don't get me wrong: i was TERRIFIED after every story. i made the mistake of reading this over my lunch break and losing my appetite on more than one occasion (i'm a weenie eek). some of these stories are properly scary and horrifying, and enriquez does an amazing job at unsettling you in that way.

but the rich and tumultuous history of argentina and enriquez' consequent criticisms being woven with the horror aspect made everything much more real, and thus much more terrifying. i don't want to spoil anything, but there were non-gory parts that made me squirm more than the gore.

bangs fists on table I WANT MORE (but also... not during lunchtime lmao)

Things We Lost in the Fire is a haunting literary short story collection by Mariana Enriquez and translated by Megan McDowell. These stories range from dark social critiques to others that feature overt horror elements. Each is populated by dynamic complex characters who are both totally believable and fascinating. Ranging from haunted houses to body horror to cosmic, this is diverse collection of tales set in the author's country of Argentina. Themes of poverty, mental health, queerness, and patriarchy were prevalent in this volume, making it highly relevant for readers of all backgrounds. I loved how these stories explored multiple sub-genres and also all seemed to have something to say. This is definitely a more complex and literary collection than what I typically read, and I'm not ashamed to say that there are several stories here that I think I need to reread before I'll have a chance of really understanding them. I did notice that some of the stories seemed to just end, or otherwise lack a conclusion or overall story arc that I found completely satisfying, but this may be an issue more with my understanding than with the writing. Although the audiobook narrator, Tanya Eby, did a great job...I think I might have gotten more out of this by reading visually. My favorite stories in this collection were The Inn, Adela's House, Under the Black Water, and Things We Lost in the Fire. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Light horror, female narrators in corrupt surroundings, social commentary.

Tough girls, filthy streets
unhealthy fascinations
burn it all away.

Lectura que logra sacarme de un bloqueo lector enorme, la escogí por que eran relatos y todo el mundo lo recomendaba y pensé que podría ayudarme.
No solo me ha ayudado, sino que ha sido una experiencia brutal, me lo he acabado en un fin de semana y conteniendo las ganas para no acabármelo de una sentada.
Los relatos son aterradores y sórdidos, casi todos protagonizados por mujeres y además logran ser originales cuando se supone que ya está todo inventado.

Además el no esconder que son relatos que pasan en Argentina, con acento y vocabulario del país y contados por una escritora argentina, nos sumerge de lleno en el contexto y su visión, la cual es muy esclarecedora y destaca la denuncia social y machista que hay.

Lo sobrenatural y terrorífico tampoco se queda atrás, dejando una gran malestar y mal cuerpo al final de la mayoría de cuentos y lo que me ha terminado de rematar ha sido el guiño a Lovecraft. Escrito genial y respetando su estilo y el del propio escritor de Providence.

Mariana Enriquez volverá muy pronto a mis lecturas. Gran descubrimiento de fin de año.

La falta de finales contundentes de los cuentos de este libro intenta ser paliada con la generación de un clima que, con su tendencia al detalle y a explicarlo todo, Enriquez rara vez logra crear.

Las contextos elegidos por Enriquez para sus historias resultan, para el lector nacional, trillados y plagados de lugares comunes.

Una serie de cuentos cortos que van desde lo entretenido a lo curioso y luego avanzando hasta lo temible o espeluznante.

La precisión de la cadencia de eventos y cambios en cada uno de los relatos es increíble, y demuestra la soberbia calidad como escritora que Mariana Enriquez posee. Sin dudas me he quedado con ganas de leer más de su obra.

Muy recomendable, incluso para los más impresionables.