BROTHER BRONTË

A grim dystopia, Texas-style.

The town of Three Rivers, Texas, has seen better days. “The streets and walls of the derelict buildings seemed chewed by the rats of time and stank like their own brand of rotting cheese,” Flores writes, with characters stepping over “empty tin cans, squashed cigarette butts, used condoms, half-burned Bibles, and placentas of partly digested food.” The year is 2038, and Three Rivers is being run by a corrupt mayor, Pablo Henry Crick, who distributes book shredders to local youths to enforce the city’s book ban. One of Crick’s many haters is Neftalí, who is losing her family home; she spends time with her former bandmate, Proserpina, wandering around the ruins of the city and the grounds of the town’s main employer, the Big Tex Fish Cannery, where most mothers are required by law to work. Neftalí, Proserpina, and their friend Alexei are determined to change the town; as Alexei says, “We’re gonna take over one street, one neighborhood, one city at a time, until they’re forced to hand us our own part of the state, our own country.” Meanwhile, Neftalí holds tight to her copy of a book by her favorite author, Jazzmin Monelle Rivas, who, it is later revealed, has her own connection to Three Rivers. Flores takes the novel in unexpected directions, introducing a mysterious group of triplets and a Bengal tiger named Mama. His prose is evocative, electric, and wildly original; he describes one character as “a heavy-metal D’Artagnan or a central Texan Kaspar Hauser, surviving on energy drinks and power chords alone.” This is a wild ride of a novel, and a fascinating look at a future that, sadly, seems frighteningly plausible.

A stunning tale of survival and a biting critique of book bans and late capitalism.