2011 Reading #58: The Dead Girls by Jorge Ibargüengoitia
Books 1-10.
Books 11-20.
Books 21-30.
Books 31-40.
Books 41-50.
51. What I Didn't See and Other Stories by Karen Joy Fowler.
52. Thunder and Roses: Volume IV: The Complete Stories of Theodore Sturgeon.
53. Parable of the Talents by Octavia Butler.
54. Travel Light by Naomi Mitchison.
55. Angela Davis: An Autobiography.
56. Always Coming Home by Ursula K. Le Guin.
57. Shadow Man by Melissa Scott.
58. The Dead Girls by Jorge Ibargüengoitia. The cover blurb describes this as "A novel based on the bizarre story of a notorious crime," and yet it appears that the true story is far more bizarre and gruesome; nearly unbelievable, in fact. That may be why Ibargüengoitia's narrative is relatively restrained in comparison (fiction is never as strange as reality), presented largely as statements made to investigators, interspersed with desert-dry humor. It's a quick read, but I confess I didn't take that much away from it other than my own sympathy for the innocent women involved and the author's sardonic contempt for/exasperation with the Mexican authorities and government. A book about the real-life "Las Poquianchis" might be more interesting, though it would probably also be depressing as all hell.
Books 11-20.
Books 21-30.
Books 31-40.
Books 41-50.
51. What I Didn't See and Other Stories by Karen Joy Fowler.
52. Thunder and Roses: Volume IV: The Complete Stories of Theodore Sturgeon.
53. Parable of the Talents by Octavia Butler.
54. Travel Light by Naomi Mitchison.
55. Angela Davis: An Autobiography.
56. Always Coming Home by Ursula K. Le Guin.
57. Shadow Man by Melissa Scott.
58. The Dead Girls by Jorge Ibargüengoitia. The cover blurb describes this as "A novel based on the bizarre story of a notorious crime," and yet it appears that the true story is far more bizarre and gruesome; nearly unbelievable, in fact. That may be why Ibargüengoitia's narrative is relatively restrained in comparison (fiction is never as strange as reality), presented largely as statements made to investigators, interspersed with desert-dry humor. It's a quick read, but I confess I didn't take that much away from it other than my own sympathy for the innocent women involved and the author's sardonic contempt for/exasperation with the Mexican authorities and government. A book about the real-life "Las Poquianchis" might be more interesting, though it would probably also be depressing as all hell.