In the beginning, I wasn’t really feeling the stories. Since I didn’t know about Argentina’s historical context, I didn’t understand why Buenos Aires would be painted under such a dark light… but the more I kept reading, the more I understood.

Relying these stories is a red thread of many important subjects. For me, the most evident one was the violence and most specifically violence against women, though intergenerational trauma is not far behind. It is truly impressive how cohesive this collection of stories is, how everything makes sense and builds upon one another.

What I noticed is that the further we advance in the collection, the darker the stories get. They culminate in the title story, “Things We Lost In The Dark” which shows a radical movement of women’s reaction to violence perpetuated by men. Our protagonist, Silvana, is caught between this contradiction of understanding the movement and even helping, while at the same time struggling to wrap her mind around the radical nature of their actions.

Furthermore, the mental illness representation in this book was exquisite. It doesn’t romanticise anything and shows the reality of people living with depression and eating disorders. It’s crude and awful, but it is how these thought processes are. On top of that, they also show the stigma that comes with being mentally ill and the disbelief shown by the people around, even when being truthful.

Mariana Enriquez’s writing skills get under your skin. I found myself shivering and feeling anxious at some of these stories, which usually doesn’t happen for me. The way she blends reality with supernatural is seamless and it makes for a haunting read.

The had a good premise but I struggle to understand what the author is trying to say with this one. There’s a vague acknowledgement of how dating someone much older when you’re still a teenager (because 18 and 19 are still teenagers) is damaging to your development, yet there is nothing specific here. On the opposite, Mallory is aware of how the woman used her and how she felt seen but rejected at the same time, and she still sees it as her happiest time. Maybe I don’t understand because I haven’t been through this and I don’t wish to, but it’s much too idealistic for my taste. There’s an entire part here about Mallory’s past that doesn’t make much sense because it doesn’t add much to her character. Despite all of this, the writing is still really good and the characters feel real.

La diversité des poètes et poèmes choisis est incroyable : il y en a pour tous les goûts, et non seulement mais ils sont qualitatifs. L’identité palestinienne a été longtemps niée par les entités coloniales, mais ce recueil prouve (non pas qu’il y en ait besoin) qu’elle existe bel et bien. Ce que le peuple palestinien a subi et subit encore est une honte qui laisse des traces ineffaçables.

Olga was a really great protagonist, and the characters were well-fledged and felt real which is something I appreciate in books— however, the way it was told went between flashbacks and present moment and different narrators so much that it was complicated to grasp the chronology of the story. I would’ve preferred if we focused less on Olga’s childhood and saw more of her present self. The message is strong, and the nuance here comes with Olga’s mother herself: although what she is doing is noble in the grand scheme of things, at what point does it become too much? It showed that you can be for the revolution even if you aren’t perfect (such as Olga’s brother, Prieto) and you can be completely immersed in it and still be an awful person (Olga’s mother). I was glad they figured it out in the end that she was manipulative and abusive though it hurt my heart to see the two siblings realize just how much she didn’t care about them. This was an emotional and important read.