If he looks farther on, to where the road slopes down, he can just about see the river. A glint that makes his eyes water. And again: it’s not a river, it’s this river. He’s spent more time with it than with anyone…
p. 47
Finally! Finally I come to a piece of work which is fraught with tension and power. A story, if you will, within a story. We go back and forth in time, learning of Enero and El Negro who still mourn the loss of their friend, Eusebio. The three bonded at the age of 11, and nothing could separate them but Eusebio’s drowning after a terrible fight. They cling to his son, as if they still have his father with them.
We learn of Lucy and Mariela, sisters who are lovely in form and innocence. They leave home to go to a party after their mother, Siomara, yells at them in anger. She does not know she will never see her daughters alive again.
So much anger, from the islanders, who learn that Enero and El Negro have returned to the river the massive stingray they caught. Anger, perhaps, that comes from more than the return of the sea creature. Anger, which quite possibly stems from poverty and helplessness, from the intrusion of strangers who have more than the islanders ever could.
This is a tragic story, more powerfully told in its 87 pages than any of the others longlisted this year that I have read.
(Thank you to Graywolf Press, who sent me a copy of Not A River to read and review. What a gift you have given me!)