Introducing the Bolivian writer Liliana Colanzi, You Glow in the Dark glimmers with an unearthly light and a nearly radioactive power The seven stories of You Glow in the Dark unfold in a Latin America wrecked and poisoned by human greed, and yet Colanzi’s writing―at once sleek and dense, otherworldly and intensely specific―casts an eerily bright spell over the wreckage. Some stories seem to be set in a near future; all are superbly executed and yet hard to pin down; they often leave the reader wondering: was that realistic or fantastic? Colanzi draws power from Andean cyberpunk just as much as from classic horror writers, and this daring is matched by her energizing simultaneous use of multiplicity and fragmentation―the book's stylistic trademarks. Freely mixing worlds, she uses the Bolivian altiplano as the backdrop for an urban dystopia and blends Aymara with Spanish. Colanzi never gets bogged down; she can be brutal and direct or light-handed and subtle. Her materials are dark, but always there’s the lift of her vivid sense of humor. You Glow in the Dark seizes the reader's attention (from the title on) and holds it: this is a book that announces the arrival of a major new talent.

Ciudad de México, 1951. Una lluvia torrencial sorprende a los citadinos. El caos cunde mientras una serie de sucesos trágicos —como el hallazgo de mujeres asesinadas flotando en los drenajes de la ciudad— ha puesto en evidencia la descomposición de la gran urbe. Los habitantes de una vecindad del centro histórico, náufragos entre las montañas nevadas del valle de México, padecen —como todos— el diluvio. Sus voces emergen con el lago que ha vuelto a desbordarse sobre las un niño con poliomielitis que sueña con volar, un panadero español, una maestra feminista, un artista homosexual, un judío refugiado; cada personaje guarda secretos, dolores existenciales y —a pesar de todo— una profunda esperanza.

Ciudad de México, 1951. Una lluvia torrencial sorprende a los citadinos. El caos cunde mientras una serie de sucesos trágicos —como el hallazgo de mujeres asesinadas flotando en los drenajes de la ciudad— ha puesto en evidencia la descomposición de la gran urbe. Los habitantes de una vecindad del centro histórico, náufragos entre las montañas nevadas del valle de México, padecen —como todos— el diluvio. Sus voces emergen con el lago que ha vuelto a desbordarse sobre las un niño con poliomielitis que sueña con volar, un panadero español, una maestra feminista, un artista homosexual, un judío refugiado; cada personaje guarda secretos, dolores existenciales y —a pesar de todo— una profunda esperanza.

A slender novel of epic power, Orbital  deftly snapshots one day in the lives of six women and men hurtling through space—not towards the moon or the vast unknown, but around our planet. Selected for one of the last space station missions of its kind before the program is dismantled, these astronauts and cosmonauts—from America, Russia, Italy, Britain, and Japan—have left their lives behind to travel at a speed of over seventeen thousand miles an hour as the earth reels below. We glimpse moments of their earthly lives through brief communications with family, their photos and talismans; we watch them whip up dehydrated meals, float in gravity-free sleep, and exercise in regimented routines to prevent atrophying muscles; we witness them form bonds that will stand between them and utter solitude. Most of all, we are with them as they behold and record their silent blue planet. Their experiences of sixteen sunrises and sunsets and the bright, blinking constellations of the galaxy are at once breathtakingly awesome and surprisingly intimate. So are the marks of civilization far below, encrusted on the planet on which we live.  Profound, contemplative and gorgeous, Orbital is an eloquent meditation on space and a moving elegy to our humanity, environment, and planet.