Mariana Enriquez points the way

Writer Mariana Enríquez in Venice, Italy, in April 2017. Getty Images

"In a different edition the books say something different."

The famous phrase by Juan Ramón Jiménez is usually read as a compliment to good typography, which he was so fond of, but it would also be valid to certify the effect that the fact that a book appears in a specific publisher has on reading.

, by the Argentine Mariana Enriquez, has just won the Critics' Prize - so bad with Latin American literature - and one cannot think of its 667 (or 666 + 1) absorbing pages without wondering how the sworn not to be part of the Anagrama catalog but of the Minotauro, Valdemar or Nocturna catalog.

Or those of Planeta or Plaza, with its very satin dust jacket and its golden letters in relief.

• Celsius 232 Festival, the only survivor

• Good times for the paranormal

• The solar system of the new science fiction

That books say different things in different editions is well known to the new readers of Ted Chiang, who has landed on the generalist Sexto Piso after publishing in the specialized Alamut

, which included the story that Denis Villeneuve transformed into

.

Enriquez herself knows it too.

Shortly after the critical award was announced, he responded to

about what readers find in

, previously awarded the Celsius Prize for the best fantasy, horror or science fiction novel: “What They tell me is that they were fascinated with the characters;

They also liked the question of it being a political book and at the same time a genre one.

It is not such a strange mix, but it is a mix that readers are not so used to reading outside of the genre.

As it is published in Anagrama, it captured readers who are not necessarily the ones it would have had in another context ”.

In a talk between Mariana Enriquez and Guadalupe Nettel held last year, the Mexican writer predicted that the end of “the wave” of autobiographical writing in favor of fantasy literature was near.

Well,

is already a milestone on that road, also traveled by authors such as the Peruvian Jennifer Thorndike, the Ecuadorian Mónica Ojeda or the Bolivian Liliana Colanzi.

Enriquez's bet is, however, total because she installs herself in the codes of the genre without resorting to the subterfuge of those self-conscious who claim to write, let's say, a crime novel to “transcend” the crime novel.

However, purists with a bad conscience will always be able to read

as an allegory of the Argentine dictatorship or of literally savage capitalism.

"How did your family get rich?" Asks the character of Rosario.

"The usual: looting, partnerships with powerful others, understanding which side to be on during civil wars, and allying with powerful politicians."

And later: "Dad always believed that the Order and rituals help maintain wealth, but you have to help it with inheritances and good business."

The Fallen Angel returns to heaven