As of late, I have been quenching my shopaholic tendencies by going to my local public library. This October they did something particularly fun. Many who participate in the online book space may know of the concept of blind date with a book. This is when bookstores or, in my case, libraries, wrap books in paper and provide a description to tempt book lovers into blindly selecting a new read. I had never taken the risk when it came to actually buying one of these, but when I saw my library had a shelf full of spooky themed blind dates for check out, I took my chances. My selected book had the description as read: “Genre: Queer Fantasy Horror.” The themes included, “monstrous humanity, the bizarre behaviors of mourning, the fear of conditional love.” No amount of intrigue could have prepared me for how much this story absorbed me. So, as a fair warning, this review will contain spoilers.
Monstrilio, published in 2023, is Gerardo Sámano Córdova’s debut novel. It’s cold opening is like nothing I’ve come across before. Right from the start we are pulled into a family tragedy. We are introduced to Magos and Joseph, parents to their newly deceased son, Santiago. Their contrasts in mourning are made astoundingly clear from the get go. Joseph wails himself to a point of exhaustion until Magos with an eerie calmness, tells him to go to bed. The shock comes in her grotesque act of love, when she carves open her Santiago’s abdomen and steals away a piece of his lung to keep for herself.
Magos returns home to Mexico to be with her mother. Between her quietness in grief and her distant craving for her former best friend, Lena, Magos finds herself furtively feeding the segment of Santiago’s lung. From there, the story entangles the perspectives of Magos, Joseph and Lena as they navigate raising, protecting and making a human out of the monster that grew from a piece of their child, Monstrilio.
A Good Book is Just a Good Book
Sámano Córdovas progression captured that mourning is nothing if not desperation to hold on to love. Perhaps the theme I appreciated most about this story was how it enveloped the queerness of its characters. It is common, I notice, in real life and in stories of Hispanic queerness for the narrative to circle around the oppressions of religious culture and homophobia. I was deeply moved by how Sámano Córdova allowed these characters to love without using their queerness as an allegory for inhumanity. Rather, it made space for the relationships of these complicated, but achingly, authentic characters. This story was not driven by bigotry nor the impulse to hate what is distinctive between men and monsters. Rather I found myself encompassed by this tales’ warm keys to Spanish language and the unwavering devotion that our culture shows to family.
All in all, Gerardo Sámano Córdovas, Monstrilio, is a novel that waves you in time. It is to me undoubtedly, the most illusory and faithful depiction of what it means to be human.
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