BLOOD RED

A woman adrift in her late 30s contends with a complex constellation of romantic relationships and their effects on her internal and bodily identity.

The unnamed narrator, a 38-year-old Ecuadorian woman, is at something of a crossroads: married to a man from whom she’s long been emotionally dissociated; technically childless (a qualifier that isn’t fully explained until later in the book); and stuck in a hazy reality divorced from meaning. For her, “anything that isn’t falling in love has never merited much attention,” and she spends her evenings in an adrenaline-fueled haze, drinking with friends at bars and warehouses. Soon, she meets an enigmatic filmmaker and enters into an all-consuming, meticulously described relationship. Though the contours of the man's psyche are never totally clear—he’s quiet, mysterious, and has a small daughter—the protagonist’s bond with him is profound, and for the duration of their relationship his house is a life-encapsulating cave, his bed “the bed of the world in its disorder and plenitude.” The relationship is simultaneously ecstatic and emotionally devastating, and when it falters, she has an emotional crisis, getting into accidents and meeting strange men while seemingly searching for a deeper source of meaning. As her sense of turmoil builds, she’s compelled to move to Spain to live with M, a poet with whom she’s carried on a lengthy correspondence. There, she must make a decision that encompasses the ownership of her body, her relationship to men, and her direction in life. In this English-language debut, as translated by Booker, Ponce’s prose is rich and atmospheric, and almost every scene operates on multiple emotional layers; this makes the narrator fully palpable despite the omission of certain biographical details. Ponce masterfully shows how despair and desire collide within one person, creating an entire universe of deeply felt emotional consequences. Though the plot is sometimes meandering—and a fair portion of the action is driven by the protagonist’s paramours, leading to an occasional sense of passivity—the novel’s searing exploration of unrequited love makes up for it.

Dark, beautiful, and a little disturbing.