Publisher's Weekly Review
Rivera Garza's extraordinary, incantatory novel (following The Iliac Crest) is short but stunning, following a semi-retired detective on the trail of her client's second ex-wife, who abandoned him for a younger man. Intermittent communications from the couple place them last at the Taiga, an immense, faraway, and largely inhospitable forest province that borders the tundra. People disappear from the Taiga at such a frequency that the phenomenon has a name-the Taiga Syndrome. The detective arrives at the Taiga village from where her client's ex-wife last sent a telegram, bringing along a translator for help. Though she privately suspects she's there on a wild goose chase, the detective nonetheless faithfully records all that she comes across, including unsettling interviews with little boys and stories of a wolf cub who seemed to take an interest in the ex-wife and her lover. "Hansel and Gretel" and "Little Red Riding Hood" are explicitly referenced throughout the book-the original, darker versions, of course. And there are some truly chilling aspects of the novel, including what the aforementioned little boy confesses he witnessed and a feral child the Taiga lumberjacks find in the forest. In the climax, the detective plunges deep into the Taiga in search of the ex-wife, and discovers where love must go before it can finally be considered over. As lyrical as a poem ("Look at this: your knees. They are used for kneeling upon reality, also for crawling, terrified. You use them to sit on a lotus flower and say goodbye to the immensity") and as fantastic as a fairy tale, Rivera Garza's gorgeous, propulsive novel will haunt readers long after it's finished. (Oct.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
Kirkus Review
A detective travels to the heart of a mysterious snow forest in this existential mystery about desire, hauntings, and the failure of language.When the unnamed narrator of Mexican author Rivera Garza's (The Iliac Crest, 2017, etc.) gothic noir accepts the case of a missing couple, she feels haunted by all the cases she has failed to solve. "The case of the woman who disappeared behind a whirlwind. The case of the castrated men. The case of the woman who gave her hand, literally," she thinks. Intrigued and alarmed by her client's tragic description of the Taiga Syndrome, in which "inhabitants of the Taiga begin to suffer terrible anxiety attacks and make suicidal attempts to escape," she sets off with a translator to follow in the missing couple's footsteps. When they arrive at the village where the couple was last seen, they're brought to "a hovel...a habitable structure made from wood, cardboard, and lots of dry branches." Here, the boundaries between prose and poetry, reality and mythboth already tenuousbegin to blur even further. A wolf spied waiting outside the couple's cabin door might have been a wild boy captured by passing lumberjacks. A miscarriage witnessed by a village child might be the origin story of "two miniature creatures" used in a bawdy bordello show. The miniature creatures might, after all, be real. If haunting is a kind of repetition, the narrator and her translator begin their own ghost story, following in the footsteps of the couple before them, falling in loveif only briefly. This novel, in a translation by Levine and Kana, is taut, lyrical, and strange, and it fits right in with Dorothy, A Publishing Project's commitment to work that challenges what genres and forms can do. Like the best speculative fiction, it follows the sinuous paths of its own logic but gives the reader plenty of room to play. Fans of fairy tales and detective stories, Kathryn Davis and Idra Novey, will all find something to love.An eerie, slippery gem of a book. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
