The Abyss

In this intense and mordant autofiction from Vallejo (Our Lady of the Assassins), a middle-aged Colombian writer named Fernando returns from his home in Mexico City to Medellin to spend time with his brother Darío, who is dying from AIDS. The occasion also reunites Fernando with their domineering and needy mother, who he claims is “more malignant” than the virus. Rage sharpens the protagonist’s barbs, which extend to the Colombian government, whose corruption and indifference have spawned resentment, poverty, and hopelessness across the country. Among the cast of characters is Death, who’s first seen on a staircase looking like a “fuck-faced floozie” and who occasionally drops in to remind the brothers of her inevitability. There’s also a parade of friends and family, as well as ruminations on God and the afterlife. Fernando’s artful stream-of-consciousness narration flows into moments of surprising tenderness as he breaks from excoriating the forces that frustrate him to grapple with his grief and reflect on his childhood with Darío and their younger siblings. It’s a stinging portrait of a society in times of plague. (June)