CONFESSION

An intimate, sidelong look at Argentina's bloodiest dictatorship.

In this fictionalized retelling of the regime that terrorized Argentina from 1976-'83, composed as a triptych, Kohan depicts its mental and emotional impacts on the everyday people of his home country. The opening section, "Mercedes," recounts the sexual awakening of 12-year-old Mirta López in 1941 and her repeated attempts to absolve her "wicked thoughts" within the dark confessional booth of uncomfortably curious Father Suñé (“And what exactly did you feel while you were doing it?”). The catalyst for Mirta's newfound urges is none other than future brutal dictator Jorge Rafaél Videla, referred to only as "the Videlas’ eldest son," who passes Mirta's house on a predictable route, affording her a view from a conveniently situated armchair. Eventually, Mirta ventures outside and attempts to cross paths—but never interact—with the boy, until one day at Mass he unexpectedly sits next to her and Mirta's lust reaches a surreptitious culmination right there in the pew. Hinting descriptions of Argentina's "old water cartography, canals and bends, unspoken tunnels" punctuate the first section and link it to the second, "Airport," which details an attempt by Marxist guerrillas to assassinate Videla nearly 40 years later as his airplane takes off. The pseudonymous operatives access the underground waterways of Buenos Aires to plant dynamite beneath a runway, but one crucial explosive fails to detonate. The final section, "Plaza Mayor," recounts a game of cards between the elderly Mirta López and her grandson as a foggy, circuitous conversation about the past unfolds. Propulsive and unsparing, Kohan's prose mimics the uncertainties of history and suggests that truth resides somewhere between official record and popular memory and that reality is thorny, ambiguous, and fully human in its messiness.

An expertly structured, morally complicated, and surprisingly timely blend of fact and fiction.