VELORIO

Set in the aftermath of Hurricane María, Aquino’s debut blends magic with brutal reality.

It’s 2017, and the hurricane has struck. Throughout Puerto Rico, people are scrambling for food and water and—crucially—gasoline. There’s no aid in sight. Deep in the forest, Urayoán opens a little utopia he calls Memoria, where he offers gas and a place to stay. His henchmen—young boys in tracksuits—enforce loyalty and Urayoán’s arbitrary sense of order. Aquino’s novel revolves around Memoria and the desperate characters who gather there. These include Camila, whose sister died in a mudslide and whose body Camila lugs around until Urayoán interferes. There’s also Bayfish and Banto, Cheo and Damaris. These characters narrate the story in alternating chapters. Unfortunately, Aquino has done little to differentiate their voices: They all sound the same, which makes it hard to tell them apart. So much of the novel takes place on a feverish, elevated plane that—in a similar way—it’s not always easy to understand what’s actually happening. Aquino sacrifices literal meaning to a lyricism that quickly grows dizzying. Sometimes his lines seem to point vaguely toward a meaning that dissipates under closer scrutiny. “There are more lives on this island,” he writes, “divided by the millions left stranded overseas, shrieking back home to the sound of static.” Just a little more restraint in his prose stylings would have gone a long way. Aquino’s subject is rich enough; his prose threatens to overwhelm it.

An intriguing debut that flounders under the weight of its own lyricism.