NO PLACE TO BURY THE DEAD

Three women negotiate death, birth, and loss in a violent landscape.

Sainz Borgo’s second novel is set in a country where (as the title suggests) a cemetery is contested land. The so-called Third Country is administered by a sharp-edged, dark-humored woman named Visitación Salazar, who handles the numerous deaths caused by a plague and a brutal cartel. Angustias, who is directed to Visitación when her twin infant sons die from the plague, is soon drawn into her long-running feud with Abundio, the regional cartel leader, who resents Visitación’s fiefdom and her knack for avoiding his thugs. Angustias, whose husband left her after the twins’ deaths and has few money-making options, finds a safe haven in the cemetery, where she cares for both the corpses and others seeking sanctuary, like Jairo, a musician who writes folk tunes about the region, and Consuelo, a barmaid who’s pregnant and escaping her abusive partner. Sainz Borgo (who was born in Venezuela and now lives in Spain) alternates between third-person narration and Angustias’ point of view, but in either case the mood is mordant and threatening (“Angustias” is Spanish for “anguish”), defined by clipped, terse sentences. That approach highlights the brutality of the environment, though it sacrifices precision—the roots of Visitación’s role as a cemetery caretaker aren’t clear, and the occasional magical-realist touches (Visitación has a constant “plague halo” of wasps above her head) are too passing to register deeply. Subplots involving Abundio’s power struggles with a local mayor and sicarios are similarly broad-brush. But it succeeds as a study of grief and the urge to create spaces fit to contemplate loss. “I was only interested in keeping alive my memories of the babies I loved,” Angustias thinks, and Sainz Borgo suggests that the rituals of burial are essential to valuing life.

Stark, intimate, and melancholy.