What do you think?
Rate this book


226 pages, Paperback
First published August 1, 2013
Thematically, there’s not much more I can add that I haven’t already written in my responses to These I Know by Heart and El Dia de Los Muertos. However, it bears mentioning that Phoenix a) anthologizes the latter limited edition novella, and b) omits the author’s appendices to that novella, which included historical notes and acknowledgements. Contained within the latter is this gem of authorial advice: “It’s only by painting a believable picture through authentic details that a reader will go along with that one little sliver of fictional bullshit on which your story hinges.” It is this sentiment that is brutally realized in this collection.
Here, there is a geographic and situational verisimilitude that envelopes you like a blanket, not just comforting you with a sense of simple familiarity, but creating an immobilizing weight that fixes you to that point, compelling you to witness the narrative that unfolds as inescapably true. Frankly, this recreated reality is occasionally so mercilessly sharp that it borders on—even crosses over into—unbearably piercing, almost too painful to read.
Fiction is its most effective when the worlds it invents inspire empathy—the notion that fictions are possible. The difference here is that Hopkins convinces you not that these places and people could be, but rather that they are. Hopkins's commitment to technical realism facilitates the reader’s transformation from spectator to participant. And by extension, it allows Hopkins to capture—to cruelly exploit—the paradox of moments that contain both heartbreak and hope.