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RESERVOIR BITCHES by Dahlia de la Cerda

RESERVOIR BITCHES

by Dahlia de la Cerda ; translated by Julia Sanches & Heather Cleary

Pub Date: Sept. 10th, 2024
ISBN: 9781558613119
Publisher: Feminist Press

Thirteen “reservoir bitches” tell readers: Sit, stay, escúchame.

Mexican author de la Cerda’s English-language debut, a story collection translated from Spanish by Sanches and Cleary, presents a group of Mexican women facing down danger and tragedy at every turn. The “bitches” are women from different economic backgrounds—drug empire heiress Yuliana struts the streets in Louboutins, and teen mom Stefi works 12-hour shifts at a shoe store—as well as racial backgrounds—blond-haired and blue-eyed Constanza masquerades as a mestiza to aid her husband’s political campaign, and an unnamed narrator seeks revenge on her murderers after being resurrected by a figure from Mexican legend. De la Cerda’s narrators have lived very different, equally important lives, but their voices tend to blend into one another. Most have a similar sense of humor and code of ethics, and many make use of an irreverent tone, colloquial language, and nicknames for the reader, such as “fam,” “queen,” and “amigui” (each of these words appears in its own story—perhaps this is an attempt to distinguish their narrators). These tactics succeed in creating the enchanting feeling that one is sitting across from each narrator, being told their stories as a close confidante. This feeling remains even when we know the narrator is dead—which does not happen just once, but four times. The most prominent theme is the epidemic of femicide, specifically in Mexico. In one of her most powerful moments, de la Cerda writes, “Mexico is a monster that devours women. Mexico is a desert of pulverized bone. Mexico is a graveyard full of pink crosses.” The author’s demand that we bear witness to the senseless murders, in all their gruesomeness, of these bright young women is sobering and commendable. However, the sheer magnitude of loss and injustice displayed here means that the vengeance secured against the perpetrators, which is posed as badass feminist action, feels limp.

De la Cerda sums it up best: “Being a woman means living in a state of emergency.”