Daniel Saldaña París (Planes Flying over a Monster; Ramifications) eerily constructs a deconstructing world in The Dance and the Fire, a deft novel told in three voices and translated from the Spanish by Christina MacSweeney.
Mexico is rife with wildfires, and the city of Cuernavaca is especially affected, with its citizens normalized to a state of perpetual drought, smoke, and ash. Within this smoldering environment are three childhood friends, now in their 30s and dealing with various relationship and body issues. Natalia is a choreographer enraptured with bromeliads (she dotes over 12 varieties) and the phenomenon of choreomania, also known as the dancing plague or hysteria. She lives with an aging painter and eventually crosses paths with Erre, her one-time boyfriend. Erre has returned to Cuernavaca after a divorce, and now obsesses over the pains afflicting his body. Conejo, an amiable conspiracy theorist, lives with his blind father and mostly does drugs and tries to stay inside. Conejo and Natalia have stayed in loose touch over the years, but with Erre back, the past comes to the forefront, revealing complex dynamics and calamitous consequences.
París is not a straightforward storyteller, which will thrill fans of books such as Samanta Schweblin's Fever Dream or Juan Rulfo's Pedro Páramo. Indeed, París plays with the ideas of malleable memory, gossip, rumor, myth, and more, even writing, "Where did that story originate? There's no way to weed out the legends, fantasies, and downright lies from history." The Dance and the Fire is a thrilling, macabre read. --Nina Semczuk, writer, editor, and illustrator