Book Review: 'Sleeping with the Frenemy' by Natalie Caña

What they don’t tell you about reading romance novels is that some steamy scenes might catch you when you are in public—or at least that was my experience with Natalie Caña’s Sleeping with the Frenemy. Every time I rode the train, I would take out the book and read more about Leo and Sofi’s story. Inevitably, when things got hotter between them, my cheeks would blush as the other train passengers ignored the love my eyes were witnessing. It was my little secret: peeking into the two lovers’ journey to overcome what kept them apart.

Although the boiling, undeniable love between the two characters is the heart of this novel, Sleeping with the Frenemy goes beyond the sexual chemistry between Leo and Sofi. The story is also about forgiveness and rediscovering one’s purpose. Each character has healing ahead to do, especially when it comes to their families. Leo’s struggle growing up with a family who didn’t understand him and Sofi’s absent yet controlling father define their personalities and decision-making. Would they be capable of forgiving those who hurt them, including each other? With this, Caña does an excellent job in her narrative to show how important it is to prioritize one’s healing while reminding us that we are worthy of love despite how broken we are. In many ways, the couple mirrors each other: Sofi is stuck in a job she hates while Leo is stuck in his failed attempts to recover the job he loves. She wants out and he wants back in. Both are floating—or rather sinking—without course, yet they find an anchor in each other.

“The story is also about forgiveness and rediscovering one’s purpose.”

Furthermore, the exploration of gender-based stereotypes, the representation of queerness, and the conversation around body positivity are all present in Caña’s work. In many ways, the book shows stereotypical “macho-man” behavior in many male characters, but it doesn’t go unchallenged. The author contrasts it with the inversion of gender roles between the main couple, the representation of strong female characters and feminist men, and Leo’s ever-present vulnerability. Despite being a heterosexual love story, Caña effortlessly includes queer couples in the narrative, which provides a diversity of love to the story—a highly appreciated detail. Similarly, despite Leo and Sofi being described as good-looking, the latter suffers from insecurities around her slim figure yet finds beauty in the plus-size figure of another female character. With this, the author challenges stereotypical beliefs around body image and highlights how any woman could suffer from body dysmorphia no matter their size.

Still, let’s not forget that Leo and Sofi’s love is what makes this story shine. Leo’s complete devotion to the woman he believes is destined for him and Sofi’s refusal to admit her feelings is a dance I could watch all day. Packed with humor, romanticism, erotism, family dynamics, and trauma healing, Sleeping with the Frenemy is a joyful read that will warm your heart—and your cheeks. Read in public at your own risk!

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Roxanna Cardenas Colmenares is a Venezuelan writer living in New York City who loves to consume, study, and create art. She explores multiple genres in her writing, with a special interest in horror and sci-fi, while working on her B.A. in English with a Creative Writing concentration. 

Her work has made her a two-time recipient of the James Tolan Student Writing Award for her critical essays analyzing movies. She has also won The Henry Roth Award in Fiction, The Esther Unger Poetry Prize, and The Allan Danzig Memorial Award in Victorian Literature.

In her free time, she likes to watch movies, dance, and draw doodles that she hopes to be brave enough to share one day.

Book Review: 'The Curse of the Flores Women' by Angélica Lopes

In the pages of The Curse of The Flores Women by Angelica Lopes, the reader becomes drawn into a tale as old as time. A tale of women fighting to break the limitations of society. Steeped in tradition of their homeland and the pressure of being a woman in a man’s world, we are captivated by the beauty of the story of the Flores women. As the story opens we meet Alicia, who may seem to most as an angst-filled young woman. It is soon revealed that there is something she must fight to overcome. Tradition, self sacrifice, classism, and even the binds of her own female family members’ subordination to men. All of this binds her to a life she does not wish to live. All of the restrictions seem an insurmountable task for Alicia to undertake. Her story would be interesting all on its own, however Lopes crafts it into one that seems to transcend time and space to give us the story of generations of Flores women. One woman starts the story off and it falls into the hands of our current character Alicia, who unbeknownst to her, she now holds in her hands what may seem like an ordinary veil, it is in fact so much more than that. In her hands she now holds the key to what her ancestry withstood so she could become who she is meant to be. 

What starts as the tale of one young woman’s fight to be a nonconformist to society and its patriarchal stances, every facet of this young woman’s life turns into one of discovery, of what the women of her ancestral lineage have coursing through their veins. Courage, strength, and perseverance, which are only some of the wondrous qualities of these women, and that help to fuel their lives. Starting as a way to secretly share her story with others through the folds of some unassuming hand-sewn lace, a generational tale unravels before our eyes. The reader can empathize with these characters as it seems as if many females of today's society are still fighting for basic human rights. Today we are fighting for bodily autonomy and the right to privacy between ourselves and our doctors without fear of breaking a law or facing criminal offense charges. Gone are many traditions of old, and rightfully so because they would not be acceptable in today's society, yet some still rear their ugly and old-fashioned tentacles, making it seem as if we have made little to no progress for the feminist cause.

The Curse of the Flores Women takes the reader through some heart-wrenching moments, but there are still some other joyous times to share as well. The novel will allow you to see some of the trials and tribulations that have plagued women since the beginning of time. This book, even though it is a work of fiction, seems very much able to capture what life as a woman is like, from the past to the present day. The challenges from one era to another may be different, however the struggle is very much the same. Like learning the act of lace-making, its fragile threading, to its intricate and detailed designs, so are the lives of these characters. Women, not just Flores women, faced and continue to face societal pressures, as well as familial boundaries that try to limit the growth of womankind. It is with a whole heart and resounding “yes” that I recommend this book. I feel that as you read the last sentence of the last chapter you will be glad to have read this wonderful work of words. Regardless of your gender, you will walk a way with a better understanding of just what has plagued women and how to be an ally to women. Happy reading.

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Angela “Angie” Ybarra- Soria is a book reviewer, activist, mixed media artist, writer and entrepreneur. An obstacle that may have stood in her way happened in 2013, she suffered 4 brain bleeds and emergency brain surgery, Angela however likes to think of herself as a TBI THRIVER. Angie is a recent graduate of Northeastern Illinois University where she studied Latinx American Studies and Urban Development. Angela has been an advocate for stopping gentrification within brown and Black communities of Chicago. Angela enjoys spending her down time with her grandchildren and introducing them to the sights of the city where she was born and raised. Being of Mexican descent has prompted her to research much about the rich culture of her ancestral heritage. Angela plans to continue her education by pursuing her Masters Degree in Urban Studies to further allow her to better assist communities that have for generations been, or worse, still marginalized.

Book Review: ‘Castle of the Cursed’ by Romina Garber

Castle of the Cursed by Romina Garber is a young adult contemporary fantasy that surprised me on many levels. The story follows Estela, an 18-year-old girl who’s left in a state of depression and survivor’s guilt after the death of her parents in a New York subway incident. No one believes her when she argues that she saw a strange smoke right after everyone fell dead—everyone but her. When Estela receives a letter from who might be her latest relative alive, an aunt from the fictional town of Oscuro, Spain, she knows this is her chance to uncover the truth behind her parents’ death and unveil the secrets from their past.

Garber took great care of the mental health aspect this story. Throughout the book, Estela is haunted by the death of her parents, the only loved ones she ever knew. The incident broke her until she stopped speaking, and when she arrives at the mysterious La Sombra castle, she starts questioning her sanity when supernatural events chase her every night. In that respect, this is a book of grief and mental health, but ultimately, it’s also a journey of hope and love. 

The fantasy lore is where the book shines the most, and the more I read, the more intrigued I was. This title is dark and gothic and extremely atmospheric, which is sometimes hard to translate into a contemporary setting. However, the deeper you dive into the lore, the more you realize that this book is more than a castle and a sad vampire (which all the girls love, of course). Where most fantasy books dump a lot of information on the reader from the beginning, Castle of the Cursed drops breadcrumbs of lore that you will eagerly devour because like the castle, you’re always hungry for more. Weaved in with the murder mystery and the strange town of Oscuro, everything is executed cleanly. Although I had my theories, that were more or less accurate, Garber kept me guessing until the very end and the whole truth behind the castle was beyond my expectations.

“Romantic, unexpected, and deliciously unsettling, ‘Castle of the Curse’ is a page turner from start to finish. ”

One part that I found particularly interesting was the way Garber incorporated Spanish into the book. Estela was never taught Spanish by her parents, and when she arrives to Spain, she must affront that communication barrier. What’s interesting is that Garber did not translate the Spanish dialogue, and I love that. It puts the non-Spanish speaker reader in Estela’s shoes. Throughout the book, though, Estela starts learning Spanish, which is subtly paired with La Sombra’s past, and the reader embarks in a journey that starts with simple translations from Estela’s part and grows until she has a good grasp of the language.

The romance between Estela and Sebastián is another major plot in this book. At first dark and unnerving, their relationship grows sweet and caring. Theirs is the love story of two broken souls who find comfort in each other. Not a romance in the traditional sense, where you giggle and kick your legs when they kiss, but yes, also that. Despite their circumstances, Estela and Sebastián create a connection that goes beyond attraction. Readers of enemies-to-lovers might enjoy their dynamic, although it doesn’t completely adjust to the trope, instead evolving into a pleasant new direction. 

Romantic, unexpected, and deliciously unsettling, Castle of the Curse is a page turner from start to finish. The delicate mental health representation, the dark, eerie secrets behind La Sombra, the soft romance amidst all things vicious—it all blends into the perfect book for those looking for a stimulating read.

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Dianna Vega is a Dominican assistant editor, fiction writer, and poet based in Florida. She holds a bachelor’s degree in creative writing from the University of Central Florida. She is a 2024 Periplus Fellow. Her poetry has appeared in Outrageous Fortune and South Dakota Review.

Book Review: 'Libertad' by Bessie Flores Zaldívar

The first time I heard about Honduras was in elementary school. Our class had to talk about different Latin American countries, and I was assigned Honduras. I recall making the white and dark blue flag and its stars with glossy paper, yet what I remember the most is the one fact I read in an article during my research: “Honduras is one of the most dangerous countries in Central America.” For years, the memory lingered in my easily impressionable brain, creating a separation between my country, Venezuela, and la república bananera. I grew up believing the two had nothing in common, like two planets in different galaxies. However, the space between them shortened after I read Libertad, by Bessie Flores Zaldívar, where I was introduced to a fictional family of hondureños trying to survive their country’s government in 2017, the same year my family and I left Venezuela, escaping ours. 

Readers see the novel’s world through the observant eyes of Libertad Morazán. She is a 17-year-old girl who lives with her mom, grandmother, and two brothers during the civil manifestations in her country. Libertad is about to graduate from high school and deals with the stress that represents, but that is not the only milestone our character must face. She struggles with her sexuality, her role in her family dynamics, and her art, which takes the form of poetry. Libi—as those close to her call her—finds an outlet for her frustration with the political situation in Honduras by writing and anonymously posting poems about it, taking a clear political stance that rejects the current government. Although a work of fiction, the book portrays the reality of this country seven years ago, when the pueblo wanted the opposition to win their country back. Still, the authoritarian government wouldn’t give up power—a tale that certainly felt familiar to this reader. 

Flores Zaldívar’s richly descriptive craft oozes through Libertad’s narration of events, sensations, and settings. While reading their words, it was impossible not to feel the heat inside buses and cars that lack air conditioning—like in most cases back home—or perfectly picture the intricate scenarios Libertad, her family, and friends dealt with during the tense election year.  Similarly, the feelings of guilt so familiar to closeted queers were almost palpable, and I would cry next to Libi when she realized her mom wouldn’t accept her sexuality. But I would cry just as hard whenever her big brother, Maynor, showed unconditional support regardless of whom she loved. The author’s ability to place readers within the story—as if we are standing next to the characters when the events unfold—makes it easy to relate to them; thus, laughing with them, crying with them, cheering with them, and mourning with them is an inevitable reaction. 

That said, this novel is not as plot-driven as it is character-driven. Although one could think that the story unfolds around the infamous elections, the true driving force in Libertad is Libertad herself. Like many teenagers transitioning into adulthood, her life is unexpected, exploratory, and seemingly lacking a clear path. Flores Zaldívar’s narrative develops simultaneously with the main character, meaning that the point isn’t to reach a determined event but to witness Libi’s both painful and joyful growth. The author, however, doesn’t leave the secondary characters aside; they become just as important to the reader as they are to Libertad. As an older sister, I found myself wishing for an older brother such as Maynor who would buy me plantain chips—a testimony of Flores Zaldívar’s ability to entrap us with their carefully crafted characters that make the novel feel undeniably human. 

“The author’s ability to place readers within the story—as if we are standing next to the characters when the events unfold—makes it easy to relate to them; thus, laughing with them, crying with them, cheering with them, and mourning with them is an inevitable reaction. ”

It is because of how human Libertad is that I could not help but relate to Libi. The homophobia, violence, loss, disappointment, family love, friendships, and creative outlet she experiences in the novel are almost the same as what I experienced growing up. Suddenly, after finishing this book, Honduras and Venezuela felt like sisters separated at birth, and I was reminded of the common history that unites Latinx people. Flores Zaldívar’s emotionally charged storytelling leaves a long-lasting impact on whoever reads their work, on whoever grew up or knows someone who grew up in Latin America's unforgiving summers, too-often blackouts, warm family dinners, colorful sceneries, and corrupt governments. Libertad is the coming-of-age story of a queer artist, yet it is also a reminder of what unites our community. I still picture the phrase on Maynor’s t-shirt: Solo el pueblo salva al pueblo—and I know I will for a long time.  

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Roxanna Cardenas Colmenares is a Venezuelan writer living in New York City who loves to consume, study, and create art. She explores multiple genres in her writing, with a special interest in horror and sci-fi, while working on her B.A. in English with a Creative Writing concentration. 

Her work has made her a two-time recipient of the James Tolan Student Writing Award for her critical essays analyzing movies. She has also won The Henry Roth Award in Fiction, The Esther Unger Poetry Prize, and The Allan Danzig Memorial Award in Victorian Literature.

In her free time, she likes to watch movies, dance, and draw doodles that she hopes to be brave enough to share one day.

Book Review: 'Oye' by Melissa Mogollon

When your older sister moves away for college, you can sometimes find yourself being the only voice of reason in your loud and dramatic family. For her debut novel, Melissa Mogollon turns the spotlight on all the first-generation younger siblings raised in Latinx households; specifically, the little sisters who typically sit in the corner and get ignored. 

Narrated through a one-sided phone call between Luciana and her older sister Mari, Oye uncovers layers of family history through a beautifully crafted relationship between Luciana and her abuela. Mogollon expertly weaves in the realities of growing up in a Colombian household within the United States — complete with the cultural taboos, accurately depicted family dynamics, generational cycles, double identities, and much more — into this chaotically heartwarming coming-of-age story. The unique form of storytelling allows for a raw and unfiltered look into our protagonist, simultaneously offering a platform to the often-disregarded younger sibling and often-overlooked queer Latina. Readers see Luciana’s world through her hilarious, compelling, and expertly written voice as she struggles to meet girls, manage drama within her family, and work toward self-discovery in the face of an uncertain future. 

The novel opens with Hurricane Irma heading straight for Miami. Everyone is concerned about the destruction it might bring, except Luciana’s eccentric abuela who refuses to evacuate. Dragged along on an impromptu road trip further inland with her mother, Luciana begins to bear the responsibility of comforting Mari and taming her mother’s pull to turn the evacuation into a cross-country vacation. However, something more fateful occurs during the storm. Her abuela receives a serious medical diagnosis, and Luciana is thrust into the role of translator, peacekeeper, caretaker, and archeologist of family secrets. As the world shifts underneath her, she attempts to hold on to the one person who understands her the most. 

“Readers see Luciana’s world through her hilarious, compelling, and expertly written voice as she struggles to meet girls, manage drama within her family, and work toward self-discovery in the face of an uncertain future. ”

Oye blends a subtle critique of culture and familial love with impressive mastery. Mogollon seems to touch on almost every aspect of Latinx culture and diasporic experience you can think of. She portrays the ingrained sexism, homophobia, classism, and body shaming found within our culture, and depicts the stubborn, manipulative, and controlling tendencies of the older generations. There are broken familial ties between sisters, obsessions with appearances, judgemental abuelas, family drama, and gossiping mothers who tell everybody your business. 

Luciana’s story is incredibly multifaceted. It’s about breaking generational cycles that have dug their claws deep into the lives of the women before her; stepping up as the younger sibling and taking on the responsibility that comes with being the remaining child; being the connection to the United States in an immigrant family; working through first-generation pressures, developing a voice, and uncovering past traumas. Mogollon carefully braids various strands of narrative into this riveting debut. The book asks, how do we break generational cycles of trauma and toxicity? How can we write our own stories and choose to embrace change?

Born in Colombia and raised in southern Florida, the Iowa Writers' Workshop alumna seemingly wrote this story with a deep reverence and love for the women who have raised her. At a meet-the-author event held by Amigas Latinas, Mogollon expressed that she never expected this project to turn into a published novel. Like most authors, she wrote believing no one would ever read her work but is now grateful that it could be in the hands of people who can relate to it. Despite some anxiety about the community’s reception to Oye, she acknowledged the importance of it being out in the world, especially in terms of placing queer Latinas front and center. Drawing inspiration from her own grandmother and authors like Elizabeth Acevedo, Jennine Capó Crucet, and Julián Delgado Lopera, among others, Mogollon reveals her exceptional talent for making readers laugh out loud on one page and shed tears on another. 

As a little sister and first-generation daughter born into a Colombian family myself, I deeply resonated with Mogollon’s novel. It was moving to see my culture and experiences written down with such detail and accuracy — even niche aspects I thought only happened in my family. It’s almost as if Mogollon peeked into my personal life, pulling out all the lectures from my parents about having children too young, moments of my mother being an embarrassing boomer, the difficulties in communication between family members, and the constant occurrence of never being asked for input as a younger sibling. She has written into words the slightly complicated relationships between sisters, passive-aggressive mother-daughter conversations, and lovingly stubborn grandmas. The relatability of its characters, the frustrating, tear-jerking, and complex relationships, and the commitment to healing found in Oye will keep me coming back and recommending the novel to anyone who will listen.

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Lorraine Olaya is a Colombian-American writer, editor, and poet born and raised in Queens, New York. She is a recent graduate from New York University with a B.A. in English and minors in Creative Writing and French. Often drawing inspiration from Latina writers such as Gloria Muñoz, Rio Cortez, Sandra Cisneros, and more, Lorraine’s work explores the experiences of the Latine diaspora, focusing on dual identity, culture, community, first-generation struggle, immigration, and familial love. Her poetry has been previously published in The Roadrunner Review, Laurel Moon Magazine, Drunken Boat Magazine, The Acentos Review, Esferas Undergraduate Journal, and elsewhere.

Book Review: 'Love Unwritten' by Lauren Asher

C/W: mentions self-harm, abuse, eating disorder.

When people first ask me why I read romance novels, I tend to answer with Why not? For so long, romance novels have been given the reputation of not being “real books.” But even as a young queer teen, I always asked Why not? It has everything a “real book” has - words, pages, a cover. So why is a romance novel not a “real book?” It wasn’t until I became an adult that I realized that the general public tends to see romance as a genre that only women read. And we all know how the general public tends to treat things that women only allegedly enjoy. 

With the rise of TikTok though since the pandemic, the number of romance readers has increased, along with the number of men who enjoy them. Having been an open romance reader since the Fifty Shades craze, romance is the section that I always walk first to whenever I visit Barnes & Noble. And one of the authors who has become someone who I can trust to give me a good love story is Lauren Asher. Asher, famous for her Dreamland Billionaires series, has given us one of the best beach reads of the Summer in Love Unwritten, a romance with a few of my favorite tropes. Forced proximity, grumpy male main character, just to name a few, and plus a beach trip to Hawaii; perfect for the Summer. 

Ellie Sinclair is a hopeless romantic songwriter who wrote the Album of the Year, according to the Grammys. If only the public knew that. Now coming back to her hometown of Lake Wisteria after her best friend’s betrayal, she becomes the nanny and music teacher to the son of the man who she thought she would be over – Rafael Lopez. But things have changed since high school. Rafael is now a billionaire with a company to run, an ex-wife to deal with, and his son Nico who he wants to make memories with. He has to, before Nico goes blind. A romance with Ellie is not what he needs. But a lot can change in fourteen days, and sometimes a vacation romance doesn’t stay in vacation. 

The thing that I love about Asher’s books is that before I even know it, a few hours have passed and I’m 150 pages in. That is how good she is at capturing a reader’s attention and keeping it. Although part of a series, it’s an interconnected standalone. Readers of Asher will love seeing character cameos from her other books, but new readers don’t need to read her previous books to enjoy them. Finally, what Asher does so well is being able to capture these two characters and make you sympathize with their struggles. The struggles of depression and self-harm are ones that I can personally relate to, and it helps break the stigma of these topics, especially in a romance novel. It shows that people who don’t see themselves as “perfect” can accept the help of others, people who they didn’t expect it from, and find the acceptance within themselves and that love for each other. 

In Love Unwritten, Lauren Asher goes back to Lake Wisteria to tell the story of these two characters who saw themselves as broken. In a story of healing from physical and mental scars, they found the acceptance they didn’t know they wanted and were able to find the love they didn’t think they would get to have. If you want that summer read that’ll take you on vacation without having the funds, read Love Unwritten and get ready to be hooked to Lauren Asher. 

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Joseph De La Cruz (He/Him) is an Oakland native and graduate of San Francisco State University with a major in Creative Writing. A lover of Pop music (Britney over Christina, anyday), Disney, pepperoni pizza, and iced coffee, you can find him at the romance section of any bookstore, waiting for his very own meetcute to happen. You can find him on Instagram @princetonboy915 (Yes, it is a reference to that movie!) 

Book Review: 'There Is a Rio Grande in Heaven’ by Ruben Reyes Jr.

People who often speak against sci-fi, magical realism, or any fiction pieces argue that they prefer more realistic content. Although many works of this genre fail to make a connection between fantasy and reality, quality fiction shows through its fantastic scenarios aspects about humanity that are often too dark to face as pure realism. Fiction readers like me know this and never fail to find the realistic commentary hidden in spaceships, aliens, or robots. As a fan of the genre, reading Ruben Reyes Jr.'s debut, There Is a Rio Grande in Heaven, was exhilarating. Reyes creates a collection of stories where the rules of each world differ; however, they connect in their devastating outcomes. More importantly, the author draws the challengingly blurry line between fantasy and reality with effortless caution, making readers question the difference between the two—if any. 

Reyes showcases his peculiar storytelling abilities in twelve stories (some short fiction and some flash fiction). He creates a narrative from perspectives rarely seen in science fiction. Queerness, Latinx culture, and Central American history are displayed in his stories, and readers don’t need to belong to said communities to understand them. They must, however, be aware of them—and have respect for them. He expects us to be clever enough to grasp what’s being told behind the imaginative aspect of his work, limiting his exposition and committing to the weirdness of his stories. The flash fiction pieces set the tone, where readers get settled in alternate realities from a well-known history. Then, in the longer stories, the speculative details are so carefully curated that one could easily forget they are not real. The imagination is engrained in the issues Reyes so well displays in his work, leaving us with a bitter taste in our mouths after each chapter—and if you are anything like me, with a few tears in your eyes.

“[Reyes Jr.] creates a narrative from perspectives rarely seen in science fiction. Queerness, Latinx culture, and Central American history are displayed in his stories, and readers don’t need to belong to said communities to understand them. They must, however, be aware of them—and have respect for them.”

One story is about grieving someone even before their death, where a son deals with the loss of his homophobic father and tries to form a new one who could love him for who he is. Another one builds a world where US Citizens are treated similarly to the immigrants trying to reach the border, but this time Americans try to reach Mars, facing violent repercussions if discovered. In both pieces, the author uses sci-fi elements to speak about truths about humanity and the ways we treat each other. Furthermore, Reyes does what at least I have never witnessed in Latinx literature: point at the ways the community hurts itself. Whether it is inside our home countries or as immigrants, we natives of the other two Americas tend to take advantage of our neighbors. Some stories in Reyes's work emphasize this issue. From a Latinx-owned company based in the US that underpays its employees to an exploited magical mango tree, Reyes tells disturbing facets of our community that are often ignored. 

I found myself unable to put the book down. I remember telling my husband after each chapter, “That was devastating. I need to keep reading.” And I often came back to sections that I particularly loved. Especially its last chapter, where Reyes gives readers the chance to create their own immigration story, which I found insanely creative and fun—and frustrating whenever I took the wrong turn. With all that said, I am certain this book is not only meant for speculative fiction readers. It is for anyone ready to face wounding immigrant realities through richly imaginative worlds. And for anyone ready to question how similar real life is to our deepest nightmares. 

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Roxanna Cardenas Colmenares is a Venezuelan writer living in New York City who loves to consume, study, and create art. She explores multiple genres in her writing, with a special interest in horror and sci-fi, while working on her B.A. in English with a Creative Writing concentration. 

Her work has made her a two-time recipient of the James Tolan Student Writing Award for her critical essays analyzing movies. She has also won The Henry Roth Award in Fiction, The Esther Unger Poetry Prize, and The Allan Danzig Memorial Award in Victorian Literature.

In her free time, she likes to watch movies, dance, and draw doodles that she hopes to be brave enough to share one day.

Book Review: ‘City Girls’ by Loretta Lopez

CW: Sexual assault (implied), physical abuse 

We all remember our formative years, our youth, with varying attitudes. For some, this manifests as fondness, maybe, a longing for nostalgia and simpler times. Others might be more relieved than not that that period of their lives is over. Whatever your initial reaction may be, it’s important to remember that everyone’s childhood experiences are uniquely their own and what we see on the surface does not always tell a person’s whole story. In Loretta Lopez’s inspiring debut novel, City Girls, readers are offered insight into the stories of three middle-school-aged girls, their struggles and hardships, and more importantly, their triumphs. 

“City Girls” is a work of fiction, though Lopez credits the novel as being inspired by the lives of girls she has personally worked with at The Brave House, a nonprofit located in NYC that provides holistic services to young, immigrant girls. Utilizing those experiences, Lopez masterfully creates a three-part story showcasing the lives of three girls living in New York. We are given the opportunity to know them more intimately through their personal chapters written in first person, as well as seeing them through the eyes of the other two. This provides us with crucial insight into how the girls deal with their own issues while also allowing us to perceive how they come across without all the context we as readers get to know. It’s a refreshing style that manages to naturally connect all three plots and all three girls despite their differing situations. 

The novel follows a linear approach, starting off with Elisa, an eleven year old girl from El Salvador who’s recently moved to New York to live with her mom and stepdad. Along with Ellisa, we experience her settling into a new city, a new school, where she must try to find her place despite the trauma she carries and the looming pressure as her mother works to ensure she is granted asylum and will be allowed to stay in the country. Elisa’s chapters do an excellent job at handling difficult topics, such as sexual assault, physical abuse, and generational trauma, in a respectful, but undeniably authentic way that brings Elisa right off the page and into our hearts. 

“‘City Girls’ is such an important novel, especially to children, because of its boundless ability to connect with and teach to a wide variety of audiences. ”

Part two centers around Lucia, Elisa’s first friend, a shy, introverted girl who is the only other Spanish speaking student in their class. Her portion is conveyed through letters she writes to her deceased Tita over a period of time. Despite a seemingly perfect life, her world comes crumbling down when she discovers a distressing secret as she’s still very much entrenched in the loss of her Tita. As she grapples with this secret, readers will follow along on her journey of spiritual discovery. How she connects to her Tita even though she’s no longer physically with her and how this gives her the strength to finally confront this secret despite what it might mean for the future of her family.

In the final part of the novel we get to know Alice, a rambunctious, loud, confident girl who isn’t afraid to be herself no matter what anyone else thinks or says. We learn that Alice is extremely close with her mother, so much so that she considers her her best friend. So when there arises a possibility of her mother no longer being able to be with her, Alice deals with it in the only way she knows how—by cranking herself up to 11 despite the consequences this may bring. Lopez does an impressive job with Alice of demonstrating self-destructive coping techniques that emerge when a child’s support system is taken away. It provides readers with the understanding of where this might come from and hopefully lets us walk away with newfound patience and acceptance. 

City Girls is such an important novel, especially to children, because of its boundless ability to connect with and teach to a wide variety of audiences. Speaking from personal experience, children are so deeply informed and shaped by the books they read growing up, I wholeheartedly believe that even if they can’t personally relate to the communities represented in this novel, it would be a very good idea to give them opportunities to learn as much as they can about those different from themselves. 

And for those audiences who see themselves in these characters, it’s so vital that they have access to these stories. It really means more than a lot of people can conceptualize to see yourself represented in media, to know that you are not alone and that there is so much in your life to celebrate.

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Gabrielle Rodriguez is a volunteer reviewer with Latinx in Publishing. She is a recent graduate of California State University Chico, who hopes to learn more and eventually delve into the world of publishing herself. She was born and raised in San Francisco and grew up with a fostered love of reading and writing that she wishes to share with other, young, Latinx girls. With grandparents hailing from Puerto Rico and Mexico, boosting the voices of writers with similar roots is deeply important to her.

Book Review: 'Flores and Miss Paula’ by Melissa Rivero

Mother-daughter relationships can be complicated and exacerbating, yet mothers are almost always on our side. Can we, daughters, be on their side, too? Are Latina daughters the friendly ears their mothers need? Flores and Miss Paula, by Melissa Rivero, takes you to the complex relationship between first-generation immigrant parents and their American-born children. The novel is about how Flores and her mother, Paula, find a way to keep living their separate yet connected lives in the absence of Martin, Paula’s first love and husband, and Flores’ beloved father. In a narrative filled with suspense, touching moments, and well-placed lines of Spanish/English code-switching that echo the Latino universe, Flores and Miss Paula are pushed to find common ground in their different ways of loving, trusting, and being for each other.

Flores and Miss Paula is set in New York from a New Yorker Latinx perspective. It effectively captures the multicultural air from Brooklyn to Queens, including a Peruvian Independence Day celebration in Flushing Meadows Park, with its characteristic colors, aromas, flavors, and music. We walk with Paula to neighborhoods and memories, where neighbors know each other and the Latino community gathers in the park to play soccer or just chismosear. We go with Flores from the solitary fire escape stairs in Brooklyn to her work in a startup company in Manhattan, where, despite enmeshed office politics, we chat with our favorite coworker and befriend the new Latino employee. 

The novel starts with Flores finding an apology note under her father’s urn, the sacred place where superstitious Paula places her written wishes. As an only daughter now in her thirties, she trusts her economic present and future in her work in Finance, something that Paula clearly notices not working out for her daughter. But Flores doesn’t want to hear about it, much less from her mother, whom she loves but with whom she hasn’t built an intimate, trusting relationship as she had with Martin. Paula has found solace in her work at a convenience store and is trying to figure out who is she, if not a wife and a needed mother. Both mother and daughter use work as an anchor and to distract themselves from Martin's absence in their Brooklyn apartment. It’s been three years since Martin’s death, and now they are being asked to move out. Without Martin’s mediation to smooth Paula and Flores's crashing personalities, how can they find a way to keep this family of two together? 

“Melissa Rivero has written a novel in which daughter-versus-mother conflicts take an intimate, genuine, and entertaining turn. As each situation propels a memory, and as each chapter keeps you going, you see the questions the novel brings you: Can daughters listen? Can mothers understand? ”

The story is narrated from two alternating perspectives: Flores and Paula. In Flores’s chapters, the point of view is from Flores’s first person, where she describes relatable, ridiculous, and men-centered workplace uncomfortable situations and keeps us holding our breath with what’s going to happen next with the startup company and how that will affect her. Flores transmits the pressure children face to validate their parents' decision to immigrate through their achievements in life. 

Another engaging aspect is Flores's feelings of not being Peruvian enough because she wasn't born there, and her Peruvian identity is questioned because she doesn’t speak Spanish fluently: “Max was all about us meeting because Vicky was Peruana Peruana according to him—born there, like su madre, su padre, sus abuelas, sus bisabuelas, sus tatarabuelas, and so on and so forth back to the Incas or something. …. Does she speak Quechua? I remember asking, as if I did.”

Paula's chapters, on the other hand, are told in the second person, as if she’s talking in her head to Flores—maybe telling her what she can’t say face to face. But for readers, it feels like we are Flores, and we can hear our mother's inner thoughts about us, their children, but also how they feel about love and life as women. Paula does sound like a mother but surprisingly more like a woman who is able to finally ask herself what she wants to do with her life. 

Melissa Rivero has written a novel in which daughter-versus-mother conflicts take an intimate, genuine, and entertaining turn. As each situation propels a memory, and as each chapter keeps you going, you see the questions the novel brings you: Can daughters listen? Can mothers understand? Can Paula and Flores find a way to meet without a bridge to connect them among cultural and generational gaps? Since Flores and Paula are facing moving out after over thirty years from their Brooklyn apartment, filled with Martin’s memories and Flores’ only home, readers want to know what’s next now that the past is gone and the future awaits. A novel definitely in tune with life after death and immigration in ever-changing New York. 

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Natalia Chamorro, a Peruvian-born writer based in New York, brings a unique perspective to her writing as a poet, immigrant, and academic passionate about the intersection of art and activism. Her work has been featured in publications such as Latino Book Review, Contrapuntos, and Nueva York Poetry Review, among others. She holds a Ph.D. in Hispanic Languages and Literature from Stony Brook University and has been supported by the Herstory Writers Network for her nonfiction literary writing. Her poem “Aria” was chosen for the New York City International Book Fair Anthology, followed by the publication of her debut book of poems, Reflejo escaparate, with Sudaquia Editores in 2023.

Book Review: ‘The Blue Mimes’ by Sara Daniele Rivera

Our memories are often stories we’ve been told or we tell ourselves. They are translations that can become mistranslated, skewed perspectives that warp as time passes. Upon losing a loved one, these unreliable recollections can transform into dark, murky waves of grief painful to wade through. In her debut collection, Sara Daniele Rivera plunges into the depths of sorrowful absence, exploring the salience of mortality, malleable memories, survival, and uncertainty that emerge in the face of earth-shattering losses. Out of the rubble rises a marvelous mosaic of bilingual, elegiac poems grounded in the physical landscapes of mountains, oceans, and deserts that The Blue Mimes illustrates. 

Beginning with poems of memory and political instability, Rivera seems to focus on the world’s fraying connections — specifically in the time between the 2016 presidential election and the COVID-19 pandemic — alongside the meditation of personal rifts created by catastrophic grief. She vividly exhibits moments of hopelessness and the ways in which a bereaved person approximates their former selves at an attempt at survival. The poems often feel like puzzle pieces of fragmented memories that interlock to paint a larger story of losing family members, survival, and acceptance of the often frightening idea of death. The Blue Mimes expertly weaves a plethora of ruminations — seemingly about community during grief, cultural influence and un-belonging, the boundaries of language, migration, assimilation, separation, absence, and more — together to allow the possibility of healing. 

Rivera pens this collection with a talent for evocative imagery, surprising cleverness, and acute self-awareness. As an artist and a fiction writer, she skillfully paints beautiful scenes of natural elements and landscapes, transporting readers to the boulders, beaches, bodies of water, and various places in Albuquerque, Lima, and Havana, all equally light and dark. In an interview with reviewer Paul Semel, Rivera discusses how she kept coming across various types of absences, even those losses found in assimilation, in not remembering words and in the words that were never taught to you. “I was interested in the things we say and can’t say and choose never to say, and how we attempt to make sense of those silences,” the author wrote in the email interview. A winner of the Academy of American Poets First Book Award, The Blue Mimes is a poignant collection written through the waves of grief and during a tumultuous period in Rivera’s personal life. These are poems ultimately written in the search for resolve. 

“The Blue Mimes examines how we move on and come to terms with mortality and irrevocable change, and how to find stability, love, acceptance, and ourselves when the earth cracks open beneath us. ”

Within the caverns of these poems, Rivera seems to circle the inability to accurately describe the profundity of absence and loss despite knowing two languages. She progresses through memory and feelings of instability to arrive at an understanding of the human condition. The complexity found at the intersection of grief and Latinx identities may be the most interesting about this collection. There appears to be an overwhelming attempt to grapple with losing lineage, family history, and sense of identity upon the loss of an immigrant parent. Rivera’s poems beautifully memorialize loved ones while acknowledging the survival, self-growth, change, and continuation of life during mourning.

The Blue Mimes examines how we move on and come to terms with mortality and irrevocable change, and how to find stability, love, acceptance, and ourselves when the earth cracks open beneath us. Rivera seems to focus on accepting that we are born from struggle, loss, and hardship, carrying the archeology of our loved ones with us as the earth heals the spaces and cracks they left behind.

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Lorraine Olaya is a Colombian-American writer, editor, and poet born and raised in Queens, New York. She is a recent graduate from New York University with a B.A. in English and minors in Creative Writing and French. Often drawing inspiration from Latina writers such as Gloria Muñoz, Rio Cortez, Sandra Cisneros, and more, Lorraine’s work explores the experiences of the Latine diaspora, focusing on dual identity, culture, community, first-generation struggle, immigration, and familial love. Her poetry has been previously published in The Roadrunner Review, Laurel Moon Magazine, Drunken Boat Magazine, The Acentos Review, Esferas Undergraduate Journal, and elsewhere.