This tender debut novel follows Gregorio Pasos, a 21-year-old Colombian American who’s prone to injury.
The novel opens just after his third hospitalizing soccer injury, which forces him to spend a month in recovery. During that time, he sleeps, dreams, and narrates a life of many different injuries as an immigrant. As the child of divorced parents and of both Colombia and the United States, Gregorio grew up with a constant feeling of being divided. Rather than situate Gregorio’s coming-of-age on either continent, the novel draws parallels between Colombia's violent history and the United States under Trump’s presidency. These parallels are written in impactful prose that feels weighted with grief. Early on, Gregorio laments “how easy it was to die in Colombia and how little one could do about it. On the other hand, how strange it was to live in a town where people’s biggest threats seemed to be themselves.” In spite of its constant sense of dread, of waiting for another bomb or gun to go off, the novel is surprisingly tender and warm. Through each of his injuries, Gregorio develops close relationships with his uncle Nico, who has cancer; Magdalena, his landlady, who dies shortly after the 2016 election, and others. Gregorio is haunted by the past, but the author shows that ghosts aren’t scary when a person is enmeshed in their community. Emboldened by the lessons of the past and present, Gregorio develops a more confident voice. Written in a series of short, vivid chapters, this is an accessible and smooth read; the first-person voice hardly changes tone and style, even in chapters narrated by characters other than Gregorio. Restrepo Montoya walks a fine line between scathing and maudlin and invites readers to listen in on the conversations that happen between families in times of conflict.
A captivating, complicated take on coming-of-age.