EVERY ARC BENDS ITS RADIAN

A genre-hopping sojourn in a Colombia both real and improbable.

A New Jersey native of Colombian descent, de la Pava opens with a touch of the roman à clef: “The airport in Cali. It’s been an era since I’ve been, so the sight of so many authorized machine guns unsettles at first.” The story quickly morphs as the protagonist, Riv del Río, is called on to exercise his skills as a private eye. He’s an existential one at that, de la Pava seasoning his now-noirish broth with dashes of Roberto Bolaño and Arturo Pérez-Reverte: As Riv puts it, searching for documentation on the missing young woman he’s been hired to find, “Mysteriously evanesce into invisibility one day and a single sheet of paper will replace you. And eventually no one will read it unless someone like me comes in and asks.” That young woman is beautiful and brilliant, so much so that she scorns her MIT teachers with a taunting note on her thesis proposal: “I don’t expect you to understand.” Riv traces Angelica’s disappearance to a preternaturally evil crime lord who, boasting of having killed God, is worshipped by minions and fed grapes by “barely clad women.” Exeter Mondragon may be Satan in a caftan, but he’s no match for Angelica, who turns up in a deus ex machina moment that recalls the bizarre science fiction conclusion of the film version of Peter Høeg’s novel Smilla’s Sense of Snow. Angelica, who’s cooked up a program she calls Supra Hominin Cognition—don’t ask—harbors plans that include the mass extermination of humankind, about which Riv muses, once the dust has settled, “Sure, she wanted to eradicate us all, but not like I’m perfect.”

Put on your seat belt for this weirdly imaginative yarn and its endless hairpin twists and turns.