Si Viviéramos en un Lugar Normal

by Juan Pablo Villalobos

En los años ochenta en Lagos de Moreno, un pueblo donde hay más vacas que personas y más curas que vacas, una familia más bien pobre intenta sobreponerse a los estrambóticos peligros de vivir en México. El padre, un profesor de civismo filohelénico, se obstina en practicar el arte del insulto, mientras la madre prepara cientos de quesadillas para atender a los manoteos de su numerosa prole: Aristóteles, Orestes, Arquíloco, Calímaco, Electra y Cástor y Pólux, los gemelos de mentira.

Confinados en una precaria casa, situada en lo alto del cerro de la Chingada, presencian la revuelta de los cristeros contra el PRI y su enésimo fraude electoral. Éste es el punto de partida de las aventuras de Orestes, protagonista y narrador de esta historia, su descubrimiento de la lucha de clases y su hilarante cruzada contra el aburrimiento pueblerino y la tiranía de su hermano mayor. Todo cabe y todo vale en honor del disparate: vacas inseminadas, toros coleados, inmigrantes polacos, peregrinos sanjuaneros, naves espaciales, botoncitos milagrosos, sandías psicodélicas y muchas, muchas mentadas de madre.

Si viviéramos en un lugar normal es la segunda entrega del Tríptico de los dos dedos -llamado así en homenaje a Jorge lbargüengoitia-, compuesto por tres novelas independientes, que se inició con Fiesta en la madriguera, en el que el autor se propone deconstruir la idea de que México es un lugar mágico, maravilloso o surrealista, para decir que sencillamente México está jodido.

Genres: Fiction, Humor, Contemporary, Spanish Literature, Satire, Literary Fiction, Novels

Paperback

First published September 1, 2012

About the author

Juan Pablo Villalobos nació en Guadalajara, México, en 1973. Estudió Marketing y Literatura Hispánica. Ha realizado cientos de estudios de mercado y ha publicado crónicas de viaje, crítica literaria y crítica de cine. Se ha ocupado de investigar temas tan dispares como la ergonomía de los retretes, la influencia de las vanguardias en la obra de César Aira, la flexibilidad de los poliductos para instalaciones eléctricas, los efectos secundarios de los fármacos contra la disfunción erectil o la excentricidad en la literatura latinoamericana en la primera mitad del siglo XX. Ha sido becario del programa Alban, becas de alto nivel de la Unión Europea para América Latina, y del Instituto de Investigaciones Lingüístico-Literarias de la Universidad Veracruzana. Estudia un doctorado en Teoría de la Literatura y Literatura Comparada en la Universidad Autónoma de Barcelona. Actualmente vive en Barcelona, donde combina la escritura con su trabajo en una empresa de comercio electrónico.

Reviews

[Melki · Rating 4 out of 5]

God tightens the noose but doesn't strangle you.

After reading and loving I'll Sell You a Dog last year, I ordered all of Villalobos' novels; luckily there are only three, so it wasn't a terribly expensive proposition. This puppy was just waiting on my shelf, its neon green spine standing out in the crowd, begging to be taken down and loved.

And, what a weird little adventure it was: filled with satire, quesadillas, and bull semen. The plot ran all over the place, in and out of reality, at times almost venturing into Bizarro territory. I didn't like it nearly as much as his "dog" book, but I got quite a few chuckles out of it, so four big, greasy stars . . . refried beans not included.

[Richard Derus · Rating 4 out of 5]

Real Rating: 4.5* of five, rounded down to reflect its divisive language

I RECEIVED AN ARC FROM THE PUBLISHER. THANK YOU.

My Review: I do not think there is another author alive who can make such a painfully, angrily critical book about inequality so damned funny. Foul-mouthed Oreste blasts your wimpy Norteño eyes with some deeply "offensive" cursing, swearing, and blasphemy.

I, of course, loved it.

You need to be warned, though, lest you fall into one of those performative swoons that are so absurd and typical of the US readers. Lots and lots and lots of pearl-clutching fun to be had, of course, howling about your delicate sensibilities! But you can't claim to be blindsided. I'm telling you clearly, now, before you pick it up, that this teenager's mouth is not going to sound good to you.

To me, it was a welcome return to honest, gut-deep youthful outrage at the hideous, genuinely offensive to proper sensibility calibration, social crimes and thefts. Nothing in this flensingly honest shout of outrage should shock you more than the cruelty, the sheer shocking indifference, of the economic elites.

I encourage the easily-offended pearl-clutching fools to read it because it will offend them. They need offending.

[Roxane · Rating 4 out of 5]

Excellent satire, absolutely hilarious and smart. I would have liked the book to be longer and I wanted more of a narrative arc, or a sense of purpose. Nonetheless, this takes on class in Mexico or anywhere for that matter in a really useful way.

[John · Rating 4 out of 5]

A lot of times swearwords are difficult to translate in all their colorful glory. The English version of the book tries hard to replicate the technicolor use of chingar in all its varied forms, but falls short. Surprisingly, this is an important factor in this book. As far the pacing goes, something seems a little off as well. In Spanish Villalobos really puts things like devaluation of the peso and alien abduction in the same category of absurdity, which is the book's strong point in its native language, so when the crazy ending comes to pass it seems fairly natural. Less so in English. And one more thing, Orestes is a little more likable in English, while its abundantly clear he's a little asshole in Spanish, but an incredibly amusing one. With those caveats its a fun read in English, but I think it will be lost on people why it was chosen for translation.

If you have some Spanish skills I would opt for the original for its complete lack of incredulity about the ridiculous story being told.

[Mehran · Rating 3 out of 5]

به زور و بدبختی خوندم، کتاب هیچ مشکلی نداشت
اتفاقا جالب، طناز و غمگین بود
مشکل خودمم که نمی‌تونم دو هفته ست کتاب بخونم یا هر‌کار دیگه ای رو انجام بدم

[Anni · Rating 3 out of 5]

An entertaining satire on political corruption in 1980’s Mexico, where rampant inflation has stricken even middle-class families with extreme poverty. Narrated from the offbeat perspective of the adolescent Orestes, one of seven siblings fighting for his share of the meagre food rations, this picaresque coming-of-age story goes from the absurdist to the totally surreal, engaging the reader without sentimentality.
Be prepared for strong language!

Reviewed for Whichbook.net

[Wiebke (1book1review) · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a very fast paced read that looks at class struggles in 1980s Mexico. The narrator is 13/14 year old Oresto and we see everything through his eyes tainted with childish naiveté and adolescent anger and frustration.
The story follows him and his family and how life looks and feels for him, being very poor and powerless.

[David · Rating 4 out of 5]

The cover of this book caught me. An extraterrestrial spaceship pulling a cow up with a light beam from a shoebox house on top of a hill. It’s all true! But it was the book title, “If we will live in a normal place” that seemed more appropriate.

We were catching the last flight out by the airline out of a Mexican beach holiday before my country was closing its border due to the pandemic. They announced this closure just days after we arrived and I will never forget that day at the airport. The plane itself was delayed six hours, the airport went from packed to deserted. We didn’t have much to do as we waited when I went to buy a snack for the ride home and saw this book.

Set in the mid 1980s the story is surreal. A poor family with seven kids. The father teaches civics in a small town in Jalisco state, Mexico. The mother makes endless quesadillas to feed the mass of kids. The kids all have Greek names: Aristóteles, Orestes, Archíloco, Calímaco, Electra, Cástor and Pólux, known as the lying twins! The references to Greek mythology throughout is priceless.

The father’s claim to fame, apart from his rants against the government and distrust of just about everything, is his “potty mouth.” The book opens with some very choice, descriptive language and continues on. Be prepared!

All of this told from 13-year old Orestes. And that is what make the story work so well. Orestes has ulterior motives. He wants a new house, he is tired of being poor, and wants to be calling the shots over his older brother.

Then a couple of events happen. His twin brothers disappear while shopping and a new kid moves next door, the son of a Polish bovine inseminator. That’s right, a cow specialist (a lot of laughs here). The series of events that unravel are very humorous and a page turner.

The ending was odd and amusing. Almost hard to believe. But this is a comedy so why not stretch the truth. We all could use a good laugh.

[Leftbanker · Rating 3 out of 5]

If you don’t find this book to be absolutely hilarious, you’re simply missing the entire point. I love this sort of humor that borders on mental illness—as does all really good humor. I’m sure that says a lot more about me than it does about those folks who don’t find this shit funny.

This book is also an total mess as a narrative and never seems to be able to stay on track, whatever that track was. The prime purpose of the novel seems to be this statement:
Haciendo gala de nuestra condición de clasemedieros mentales

It's equal parts class envy and reverse snobbery. It reminds me so much of the film "Parasites" which I also think failed in the end because it lost its way.

I love how he mocks his own socio-economic class and the tyranny or thrift among the poor, as this bit when their rich neighbor offers to give them a big load of water for their cistern:
algunas frases odiosas desaparecieran de nuestra vida para siempre: no tires el agua, cierra la llave, no lo laves, no está sucio, acabas de tomar agua, y un largo etcétera, tan largo y ancho como el río Amazonas.

Or this bit about his new friend telling him about the nearby city of Leon that he’s never visited (I have, it’s a total dump):
—¿Tú conoces León
—¡Claro!, vamos muy seguido para ir al cine y al centro comercial. —Más características diferenciales de la riqueza: el acceso a la cultura.

Había una cosa peor que el orgullo de pobre: el orgullo del pobre que se había vuelto rico.

There is something worse than the pride of the poor, the pride of the poor who have become rich. Ain't that they truth.

[Rocio · Rating 4 out of 5]

Te amo Juan Pablo Villalobos, te amo porque me hacés cagar de risa, enternecer y pensar. Gracias por eso.

[Pink · Rating 2 out of 5]

I didn't find this all that enjoyable, an okay read, but it felt too short and kind of pointless. Although looking back there were several moments in the story that made me laugh or hooked my interest. Only for them to lead nowhere. I think I'd have liked a longer and more developed story. Perhaps an author to try again in the future.

[Alessandra Jarreta · Rating 3 out of 5]

Meldels, que livro engraçado! Seria cômico se não fosse trágico

[Pustulio · Rating 4 out of 5]

Que libro más divertido.

Definitivamente me saco varias carcajadas.

Apruebo.

[britt_brooke · Rating 5 out of 5]

Madcap absurdity with a splash of magical realism. Villalobos cleverly addresses classism in this sociopolitical satire centered in middle of nowhere Mexico. There is so much to this slim volume, I could never adequately summarize. Just read it! So funny, yet poignant. Reminiscent of Vonnegut, who y’all know is my favorite, so don’t take that praise lightly. Diving into his backlist ASAP.

[Javier]

Tío me encanta Villalobos, es el narrador al que más ganas tengo de leer últimamente con diferencia. Ojalá hablase menos de quesadillas porque ahora tengo la necesidad

[El Avestruz Liado · Rating 4 out of 5]

Comedy is one of the sharpest knives for cutting through reality and few authors exploit it with more power or grace than Villalobos. In this book the struggle of social classes in a rather remote town in a society dominated by a party dictatorship is portrayed. A society with no idea of what democracy -or life without monetary inflation- is about relieves its existential issues by shielding themselves behind religion or any other wild idea... like aliens.

The trademark of this book is its humor which is magnificent and somehow reminds me of Ibargüengoitia -from Guanajuato, not far away from Lagos- and it is used to great effect in this tragicomedy. It all starts with the gazillionth electoral fraud committed by the PRI in the eighties which causes a curfew in Lagos de Moreno, a small town in northern Jalisco. As soon as the curfew ends Oreo's family is in desperate need to get some groceries and then tragedy strikes and since, as we all know, there is no bottom for the pit of sorrows; nothing will be able to stop the fall into an abyss that is in good measure self-made.

All of this make this book sounds like a greek tragedy, and the names of brothers in this family might actually reinforce this idea as all of them are named after greek philosophers by an hellenophile high school professor. Nonetheless, the book never feels heavy as the use of comedy to great effect manages to relieve even some of the most dramatic passages in which poor people are grossly abused by the powerful. And trust me, that comedy is very welcome or otherwise this book would read like a passage from Apocalypse, region 4.

You might still be wondering what kind of book is this one. If that is your case, just look at the cover, a cow is abducted by an ufo that resembles a tuna can from a meager home (a shoebox, as described in the book) on top of some hill (el cerro de la Chingada). It captures perfectly the essence of the book, a portrait of place that might seem magic and/or surreal but at the end of the day is just screwed, deeply screwed. A brisk and fun read that will leave the reader with many questions and is pertinent to current Mexico, where society apparently has decided that democracy ain't that great and "old times were better". Those are the times depicted in this book.

[AAVV · Rating 3 out of 5]

Juan Pablo Villalobos ha escrito hasta ahora dos novelas muy mexicanas, dándole la vuelta a los clichés o burlándose de ellos (especialmente en ésta); cercanas a la realidad nacional, pero desde una postura crítica. Si en en Fiesta en la madriguera se aborda el tema del narcotráfico (reinventando o esquivando la narconovela) en el microcosmos de una familia (en realidad padre, hijo y algunos allegados), desde la perspectiva de un niño excéntrico para quien los lujos desaforados (recibir un hipopótamo enano de Liberia como regalo de cumpleaños, por ejemplo) y las ejecuciones son elementos cotidianos; en Si viviéramos en un lugar normal es un adolescente de familia numerosa (donde todos tienen nombres provenientes de la mitología griega, lo que funciona como un recurso para recontextualizar las tragedias clásicas en una versión posmo, tercermundista y esperpéntica --por cierto, en su primera novela todos los personajes tienen nombres nahuas--) quien narra, en retrospectiva (es decir, el narrador no es un adolescente sólo recuerda sus estrambóticos años de juventud), sus desventuras ochenteras de pobre, comedor de quesadillas, en Lagos de Moreno (específicamente en el cerro de la Chingada) con un humor ácido y desternillante. (Debo decir, entre paréntesis, que no debería abusar de los paréntesis. Y otra cosa: a pesar de que Juan Pablo Villalobos lleva ya varios años viviendo fuera del país no ha olvidado ni un ápice de mexicano, como se puede saborear desde la primera línea de la novela: "Vas y chingas a tu reputísima madre, cabrón, ¡vete a la chingada!" Escrita con una prosa agilísima y cargada de mentadas de madre, como si la página fuera un campo minado. En realidad todos los mexicanos somos, en mayor o menor medida, profesionales del insulto.) En un sentido este libro es el negativo del retrato de México, donde se arroja luz sobre las partes que generalmente son oscurecidas. Un país donde no nos morimos todos de hambre simplemente porque es muy tardado. Y un país, también, donde todo puede pasar. "¿Acaso no vivíamos en el país en que vivíamos? ¿No se suponía que nos pasaban cosas fantásticas y maravillosas todo el tiempo? ¿No hablábamos con los muertos? ¿No decía todo el mundo que éramos un país surrealista?". Pues sí.

[Susana · Rating 4 out of 5]

Un retratado descarnado de la pobreza, que se compensa con un sentido del humor negro con desparpajo:

"Lo peor no era ser pobre: lo peor era no tener idea de las cosas que se pueden hacer con el dinero."

Una crítica profunda y sentida,

"... una indiferencia a la que se le había extraviado la indolencia, era una indiferencia de lo más interesada."

con un final extraño y un tanto decepcionante.

Un escritor en el que vale la pena profundizar.

[Takoneando entre libros · Rating 4 out of 5]

Buscando un libro concreto en las estanterías, a veces se topa una con algo que la sorprende...un título curioso, una portada rara y una sinopsis que promete. Y eso es lo que me pasó con este libro y autor del que desconocía todo.
Me ha encantado. Que grandisimo sentido del humor para narrar la dureza de una vida marcada ya por el contexto social donde a los protagonistas les ha tocado vivir.
Una magnífica narrativa que me ha arrancado carcajadas en algunos momentos, y todo eso a pesar de estar relatando algo bastante duro.
El autor hace una crítica feroz al gobierno mexicano, a las autoridades, a la religión, las tradiciones... En fin, que no deja títere con cabeza, pero lo hace con una maestría digna de mención.
Eso sí, se le "fue la pinza ya con lo surrealista en el final" jja. Aún así, muy recomendable

[Carlos Beltrán · Rating 4 out of 5]

Segundo libro de Juan Pablo Villalobos y la verdad es que lo disfruté mucho.

Lo agrego a mi lista de autores que me gusta lo que escriben y como lo escriben.

[Alex Castillo Barona · Rating 4 out of 5]

Desmadrosa, hilarante a veces y en momentos terriblemente seria aunque siempre antisolemne. Supongo que esta novela de Villalobos me llega de manera especial por ser un hijo de los setentas que vivió las crisis sexenales y entiende el valor de la cantidad de queso en una quesadilla. Me encantó el final con su locura que cabalga sobre un caballo de cordura... o quizás sería mejor decir que sobre una vaca.

[annie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Sin saber lei este libro en el que la historia se desarrolla en una ciudad que esta a una hora de mi ciudad natal, y no solo eso, sino que también hace mención a mi ciudad. Entonces encaja perfecto con el reto de #fiestaspatrias: Lee a un/a escritor/a de tu comunidad (ya sea delegación, municipio o estado).

Este libro es divertido, inteligente y lleno de sátira, ya que critica la estructura de la clase política, económica y social de México a través de los ojos de una gran familia que vive en una colina. Todos los niños llevan el nombre de los filósofos griegos, añadiendo matices de comentarios filosóficos en todo el libro. Después de que dos de los hijos de la familia desaparecieran y una familia polaca se mudara al lado, el protagonista comparte su experiencia y frustraciones por la actual corrupción política y económica de México y cómo ha impactado su vida y la de su familia.

El protagonista de la novela, Orestes (Oreo para los compas), comparte a regañadientes una casa derruida y, a menudo, escasas quesadillas, con su gran familia. Su padre jura en la televisión sobre los políticos corruptos de México mientras su hermano Aristóteles intenta monopolizar las quesadillas de su madre. Después de un episodio de violencia política característico de la década de 1980 en México, dos de los hermanos de Oreo, los "gemelos falsos" Castor y Pollux, desaparecen.

"Aristóteles, Arquiloco, Calímaco, Electra ... éramos más como el índice de una enciclopedia que una familia."

En este punto, la historia se desvía a ridiculez a gran escala. Una familia polaca se muda a la casa de al lado, y Oreo aprende de su hijo el idioma de la jerarquía de clases. Aristóteles sugiere a Oreo que los gemelos falsos fueron capturados por extraterrestres, y los hermanos van en busca de sus secuestradores solo para tener un enfrentamiento, dejando a Oreo deambular por el campo con un dispositivo milagroso que puede reparar cualquier máquina con el empuje de un botón. Después de su regreso a casa, se ve obligado a ayudar a su vecino con el delicado trabajo de la inseminación artificial bovina. El caos llega a su clímax con la destrucción del hogar de Oreo y el alocado esfuerzo de su padre para construir uno nuevo, momento en el cual los elementos previos de la novela emergen en masa y arrastran la historia a su conclusión satisfactoriamente extraña.

Quesadillas es rápido, perturbador y divertido a la vez. El balance de la historia de lo perturbador y lo divertido resulta en partes iguales de sus comentarios sociales sardónicos y de su joven narrador, Orestes. Oreo es cínico, viendo la familia y el afecto en términos de quesadillas. Él también es atractivo, constantemente esperando la normalidad en un lugar que es intrínsecamente anormal. Quesadillas es una novela inusual e importante que merece ser leída.

"Todos sabíamos de la montaña rusa que era la economía nacional debido al espesor fluctuante de las quesadillas que mi madre servía en casa. Incluso habíamos inventado categorías: quesadillas inflacionarias, quesadillas normales, quesadillas de devaluación ... En el fondo de la pila vienen las temidas quesadillas del pobre, en las que la presencia de queso era literaria: abrías una y en lugar de agregar queso derretido, mi madre había escrito la palabra "queso" en la superficie de la tortilla."

La comedia doméstica es agradable por sí misma. Villalobos establece la acción a principios de la década de 1980, un período de inflación desenfrenada y devaluación del peso, y termina en 1988, cuando el notoriamente corrupto Carlos Salinas se convirtió en presidente en medio de sospechas de fraude electoral. Al contar la historia en retrospectiva, Villalobos le otorga a Orestes una combinación creíble de perspicacia e ignorancia. Admite que tendría una comprensión más segura del malestar del país "si no fuera por el hecho de que estaba viviendo ese período de supremo egoísmo conocido como la adolescencia". Al mismo tiempo, es capaz de reflexiones astutas y adultas como la noción de que los problemas de México se derivan de la década de 1920, "cuando el gobierno decidió que las cosas en el cielo pertenecían al cielo y las cosas en la tierra pertenecían al gobierno".

El autor se burla de los clichés mexicanos, pero de una manera critica y además me encanto el lenguaje muy mexicano. Y ya con tanta quesadilla por aquí y por allá ya me dio hambre.

[Sarah · Rating 4 out of 5]

I wasn't sure what to think when I grabbed this book off the shelf at the library, but it sure wasn't this. This book is hilariously smart & sardonic as it criticizes Mexico's political, economic, and social class structure through the eyes of a large family living on a hill. All of the children are named after Greek philosophers, adding philosophical commentary undertones to the whole book. After two of the family's children go missing & a Polish family moves next door, the protagonist shares his experience and frustrations of Mexico's current political & economic corruption and how it has impacted his & his family's lives.

Such an intelligent, useful book. Laugh out loud funny & absurdist humor at parts makes it a really enjoyable, fast & educational read.

[Bianca Santos · Rating 5 out of 5]

Comovente. De linguagem simples, o livro de Juan Pablo Villalobos entrelaça sentimentos complexos impossível ficar imune ao humor cortante que a obra traz. Oreo, personagem principal/narrador, é tão humano, tão presente que fica a dúvida entre amá-lo e desprezá-lo. As vezes é difícil continuar a leitura sabendo que esse mundo irreal/surreal está a dois passos de nós, me pergunto como foi possível para o autor penetrar tão fundo nesses sentimentos... E se o final não lhe agradar, fique com a resposta latente de Oreo que permeia o livro inteiro: "(...)por acaso não morávamos no país que morávamos? Não era pra acontecerem coisas fantásticas e maravilhosas o tempo todo?(...)".

[Ellie O'Sullivan · Rating 3 out of 5]

Welcome to Mexico in the 1980s, Where mental health doesn’t matter. Do you know how hard it is to be a therapist in this town when literally nobody can afford you? Lagos De Moreno is so poor that people can’t focus on their debilitating mental health, because everyone in this town only know quesadillas and church. Quesadillas by Juan Pablo Villalobos, wow, what an original name. Recently, I’ve been reached out to by the eldest son of the family in this book. I wasn’t surprised. Aristotle sounds like an ass, he just returned to his home after running away for a few months, but maybe he really needs some emotional help. I’m not supposed to go into an appointment with an opinion already formed about a patient anyways so for all I know, he’s a good guy.

Your younger brother often said that you were a “tyrant” care to elaborate why he would say such a thing?

Orestes was always so quiet and has this “holier than thou” attitude about him, sometimes he just needs to be put in his place. He thinks he’s so much better than all of us because he writes poems. Why does that matter though? He can’t just assume I’ll do his chores because he’s doing this “beautiful practice of literature”. Ugh, he purposely ignores our financial situation and it’s SO immature.

Your two younger twin siblings, Castor and Pollux, went missing about a year ago, how did it feel? What did it do to the family?

Well it was obviously Orestes’ fault, he was the only other sibling with mom when they went missing at the grocery store, mom couldn’t have kept an eye on those two she was busy trying to get the groceries for 9 people! So why couldn’t he have just kept track of them? I was heartbroken when I lost my poor, twin siblings but my mother took it the worst. We’ve now made our peace with it, and it’s almost like they were never here. Obviously we all miss them, but the quesadillas got just the tiniest bit bigger.

The property your house has been on for the past 20 years has been retrieved by the town and has been bulldozed and is being planned to be built over, why did your father refuse to leave?

Our new neighbors asked to buy our land before the town would take it. But my father and I knew they were up to no good. My father declined their offer and we continued to live in our small house. At least until yesterday when the town actually bulldozed the lot, we’re planning on moving in with my grandfather on his farm and hopefully eventually we’ll inherit it. So it won’t be all bad.

According to your younger brother, while you had gone missing you walked with religious pilgrims to find aliens?

That’s blasphemy. Maybe I said that I wanted to find aliens, but only because it felt like the only option, My parents just plain gave up but I felt like I could really get to the bottom of it and become a hero. The religious pilgrims were just so nobody would really notice me, I wanted to find the twin without being disturbed!

Before you set out on your “journey” with Orestes, you broke into your neighbor’s house and stole food provisions from them, is that true?

Well… I’m not gonna lie to you. Yeah. BUT DON’T TELL ANYONE OR I WILL SET FIRE TO THIS MEASLY LITTLE BUSINESS. Look, my neighbors are super rich, and I felt like they could handle getting a little kick in the butt - you know, anything could happen to them. Orestes had been hanging out with the neighbor kid and told me all of the ways to get into the house, so I’m not the only one guilty in this crime.

You are the oldest of 7 children, how do you think it affects your behavior?

Really, I don’t think it has. I mean, when we play war I’m always the head of my army. And we ALWAYS win. When we fight against Orestes’ team he always wants to focus too much on “preserving the literature of his nation”, like, why does that even matter? We’re playing war! Whenever he brings that up I just push him over and he doesn’t really bother me again.

Did you really talk to the “aliens” that you believed took your younger twins?

Well, um, no? I couldn’t say that to Orestes, because he can’t have anything over my head. I really just wanted to give mom and dad hope that their children are out there, even if they’re not on this planet. I also may have been just a teensy bit curious about what the world looks like outside of this town.

How would you describe yourself? The only things I’ve ever heard about you was from your younger brother, and his opinion might be skewed.

I’d say that I’m the bravest of all my siblings. I was the only one who ever volunteered to go and find our lost siblings, not even the police were brave enough to try to find Castor and Pollux. I also basically hold this family together, without me, nobody would do their chores or really anything.

Who do you think is your greatest enemy?

Definitely the neighbors, after we stole from them, they were never as warm to me. Not like they were in the first place, but they got really mad at us. I was able to get them to blame it all on Orestes eventually, but relations are still kind of awkward.

What’s your biggest regret about leaving Lagos De Moreno?

Definitely leaving in the first place, I felt like I had disappointed my parents when I got back. Especially because I came home empty-handed, but the entire experience made me miss home, it’s really convinced me that there’s nothing interesting outside of this town and leaving is just dumb.

[Gloria · Rating 4 out of 5]

Hilarious. Such a great book on the trials and tribulations of being poor - even when you don't understand they are trials and tribulations! My only complaint is that I should have read this book in Spanish. Some of the punch lines lose some of their "punch" in translation.

[Pedro Gamboa · Rating 5 out of 5]

Una deliciosa sátira divertidísima de leer. Viva México, caray.

Algunas citas notables:

“Lo mismo decía mi papá cuando, para corroborar las mentiras de mi madre, yo le preguntaba si éramos pobres o de clase media. Me decía que el dinero no importaba, que lo importante era la dignidad. Confirmado: éramos pobres.”

“A mi hermano no le gustaba ser pobre, pero la pobreza de los peregrinos circundantes no modificaba la nuestra, si acaso nos dejaba clasificados como los menos pobres de ese grupo de pobres, lo cual lo único que demostraba era que siempre se podía ser más y más pobre: ser pobre era un pozo sin fondo.”

“—Pero lo que no entiendo es por qué comes si no tienes hambre. —Para que no se desperdicie.”

“Eran peregrinos que estaban acumulando méritos para cuando la vida les hiciera una de sus clásicas mamadas.”

“Al menos mi padre había logrado usar nuestro desamparo para imponerle el hecho de que viviríamos en la huerta por mientras. ¿Por mientras qué?, era la pregunta, ¿por mientras nos pasaban más desgracias?, nadie sabía.”

“El problema era que mis tíos no se habían quedado en la calle, por lo que con toda su pobreza aún les sobraba el orgullo y el respeto por lo macabro.”

“—Pues entonces vete al Pueblo de Moya, ahí hay mucho terreno —le recomendaban mis tíos, que estaban al día de las tendencias de invasión.”

[Rafael Capetillo · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5 estrellas. Un libro con muy buenos momentos pero que nunca me enganchó, no tuve esa necesidad de seguir leyendo.
Una vez más el humor es el elemento clave en la prosa de Villalobos, sin embargo en esta ocasión me parece que no es tan contundente como en “No voy a pedirle a nadie que me crea”. Claro, estamos hablando de humor, algo totalmente subjetivo.
Me encantó la manera en la que reflejó la idiosincracia y unas arraigadas costumbres, que si bien ocurren en los años ochenta, bien podrían ocurrir en pleno 2024. Esa aparente lucha de clases y poderes (aparente porque en realidad no podría llamársele “lucha”), y todo lo que somos capaces de inventarnos para legitimarla, es de lo mejor en el libro. Sin embargo la parte fantástica y surrealista hizo que perdiera interés en el relato, la sentí principalmente como una distracción.

[Noemi · Rating 4 out of 5]

Super divertido!

Es un relato de una familia luchando con la situación económica de México a finales de los 80's en San Juan de los Lagos. El uso del lenguaje mexicanismo y analogías llenas de humor lo hacen una lectura super entretenida.

No le puse 5 estrellitas porque siento que la última parte no estuvo tan a la altura de la primera, a pesar de eso no dudaría en recomendarlo ampliamente como un buen snack literario.

[Oscreads · Rating 3 out of 5]

I’ll say that this was a good satire. Weird. Yes. But it was good. I had many laugh out loud moments. My issue with it was the narrative. I don’t know if it went anywhere. I got bored. Unfortunately, this didn’t do it for me.