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Pretend You're Dead and I Carry You
From the award-winning author of Fiebre Tropical, an electric, highly anticipated novel set in Colombia’s underground queer scene.
Isolated in a dreary Bogotá apartment, Ignacio’s light has dimmed, leaving his teenage daughter Valentina to raise herself in the wake of her mother’s death. Valentina longs to discover the details of her mother’s drowning and for Ignacio to snap out of his depression—his listless afternoons spent smoking cigarettes in long blonde wigs, telenovelas humming in the background, haunted by memories of the young man he loved and betrayed.
From Ignacio’s dark past emerges the luminous Mamadora Eléctrica, the wise travesti who introduced Ignacio to the city’s queer scene years prior. Stepping into a maternal role for Valentina, Mamadora fears the that Ignacio’s self-loathing may have unleashed a curse on them all. A profound and irreverent story about coming undone, Pretend You’re Dead and I Carry You affirms Julián Delgado Lopera as a brilliant and singular voice—“a writer who is grinding their own colors” (Dwight Garner, The New York Times).
Isolated in a dreary Bogotá apartment, Ignacio’s light has dimmed, leaving his teenage daughter Valentina to raise herself in the wake of her mother’s death. Valentina longs to discover the details of her mother’s drowning and for Ignacio to snap out of his depression—his listless afternoons spent smoking cigarettes in long blonde wigs, telenovelas humming in the background, haunted by memories of the young man he loved and betrayed.
From Ignacio’s dark past emerges the luminous Mamadora Eléctrica, the wise travesti who introduced Ignacio to the city’s queer scene years prior. Stepping into a maternal role for Valentina, Mamadora fears the that Ignacio’s self-loathing may have unleashed a curse on them all. A profound and irreverent story about coming undone, Pretend You’re Dead and I Carry You affirms Julián Delgado Lopera as a brilliant and singular voice—“a writer who is grinding their own colors” (Dwight Garner, The New York Times).
336 pages, Hardcover
First published May 26, 2026
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 103 reviews
Review of advance copy received from NetGalley
the type of thing kids say while playing and you have to act like it's not terrifying.
to be fair, that title means more than it seems — this is a book about people who are pretending to be someone they're not, people who are haunted by the specter of death whether through grief or through misery.
i am no fan of multiple perspectives or multiple timelines — i feel it sets the reader up to prefer one over the other — and i was not immune to that when split between ignacio's adolescence and his daughter's.
i loved the vibrancy of this book — the scenes by the river, or in bogota's queer scene — but the darkness felt a bit less immersive. this is not a particularly light or funny read but the times when it was felt the most natural and the most compelling.
bottom line: uneven, but more good than bad.
(thanks to the publisher for the e-arc)
to be fair, that title means more than it seems — this is a book about people who are pretending to be someone they're not, people who are haunted by the specter of death whether through grief or through misery.
i am no fan of multiple perspectives or multiple timelines — i feel it sets the reader up to prefer one over the other — and i was not immune to that when split between ignacio's adolescence and his daughter's.
i loved the vibrancy of this book — the scenes by the river, or in bogota's queer scene — but the darkness felt a bit less immersive. this is not a particularly light or funny read but the times when it was felt the most natural and the most compelling.
bottom line: uneven, but more good than bad.
(thanks to the publisher for the e-arc)
October 16, 2026
Unique, wild & devastating.
March 5, 2026
"Set in Colombia's underground queer scene, this novel follows Valentina as she copes with her depressed father following her mother's unexpected and tragic death."
Delgado uses beautiful and hilarious prose to slowly piece together the Rodriguez family's complicated bonds and story, alternating between chapters in Valentina's present and Ignacio's past. As Ignacio's story unfolds, we get a glimpse into Latin America's expectations of masculinity and machismo, the underground drag queen scene back in the day, and the country's still deeply misogynistic mentality.
When I first started reading this book, I was unsure if I would enjoy the Spanglish writing. As the book progressed and the characters grew, I began to enjoy and love the writing. The writing makes it feel so personal, almost as if the book and I shared a secret language. Some people may find it difficult to read due to the transition from Spanish to English, but I was delighted. It felt like a friend was sending me letters, and I was immersed in their thoughts.
I believe this story has it all: there is grief, comedy, drama, and a lot of heart.
Ignacio was an unlikable character in the beginning, but the way he was portrayed and dissected made me relate to him a lot. There are many things written in the novel that I could easily say could have happened to me or someone I know, demonstrating how relatable the book is to the Latino experience. Tia Mama (not including her full government name) is one of the best characters ever written, demonstrating how Delgado took the time to give each character a point of view and voice. I adored her, and I believe she will be the character I will miss the most. I don't think this book will leave my mind for several days.
Thank you, Liveright, for the ARC. Life-changing book!!
All opinions are my own, and this is my honest review of the novel.
Delgado uses beautiful and hilarious prose to slowly piece together the Rodriguez family's complicated bonds and story, alternating between chapters in Valentina's present and Ignacio's past. As Ignacio's story unfolds, we get a glimpse into Latin America's expectations of masculinity and machismo, the underground drag queen scene back in the day, and the country's still deeply misogynistic mentality.
When I first started reading this book, I was unsure if I would enjoy the Spanglish writing. As the book progressed and the characters grew, I began to enjoy and love the writing. The writing makes it feel so personal, almost as if the book and I shared a secret language. Some people may find it difficult to read due to the transition from Spanish to English, but I was delighted. It felt like a friend was sending me letters, and I was immersed in their thoughts.
I believe this story has it all: there is grief, comedy, drama, and a lot of heart.
Ignacio was an unlikable character in the beginning, but the way he was portrayed and dissected made me relate to him a lot. There are many things written in the novel that I could easily say could have happened to me or someone I know, demonstrating how relatable the book is to the Latino experience. Tia Mama (not including her full government name) is one of the best characters ever written, demonstrating how Delgado took the time to give each character a point of view and voice. I adored her, and I believe she will be the character I will miss the most. I don't think this book will leave my mind for several days.
Thank you, Liveright, for the ARC. Life-changing book!!
All opinions are my own, and this is my honest review of the novel.
Did Not Finish
May 21, 2026dnfing at 32% because the audiobook is not working for me. I find it a bit too overstimulating I'm afraid. I do like the story so far though so there's a strong chance I'll pick up the digital copy when it's out officially.
Thank you Netgalley and Dreamscape Media for the alc in exchange for an honest review, I'm sorry I couldn't get to the end of it🙂
Thank you Netgalley and Dreamscape Media for the alc in exchange for an honest review, I'm sorry I couldn't get to the end of it🙂
October 29, 2026
Explosive, pulsing and electric, a river that feels alive, haunted by those it has taken, but inspired by those who find solace in its current, wigs that embody love, a country ruled by machismo, an adolescent boy fighting to belong, but trying to understand why he wants to unzip the neighbors long luscious hair from her head and wear it himself, a then and now story taking place in a rural Colombian village and then in 90's modern Bogota, dual narratives and alternating timelines, underground queer club scene and travesti lore of Colombia complete with sparkling tube tops and fabulous nails and wigs galore, Spanglish embedded throughout ( if you know zero Spanish have a translator on hand while reading) a teenage girl raising herself with a depressed Father while desperately trying to understand the death of her Mother, thank God for Tia Mama a pillar of the Queer community and transfeminine queen looking out for our young girl, two coming of age stories, a Daughter suffering because of her Father's withdrawal, denial, repression and secrets, non linear and beautifully glorious run on sentences, I adore this book.
The title and cover art of this book called to me upon first glance. This book brings you deep into Colombia, deep into a male dominated history of violence and repression, deep into a family and deep into their shattering. I loved Julian Delgado Lopera's use of Spanglish and his frenetic writing style, the book felt alive, magical, and at the same time dark and tragic. I'm so glad I read this book!
The title and cover art of this book called to me upon first glance. This book brings you deep into Colombia, deep into a male dominated history of violence and repression, deep into a family and deep into their shattering. I loved Julian Delgado Lopera's use of Spanglish and his frenetic writing style, the book felt alive, magical, and at the same time dark and tragic. I'm so glad I read this book!
September 24, 2026
if i had a nickle for every time i read a book about minorities and their community, drowning mothers and complicated relationships between fathers and daughters this year i would have two nickles and idk what does it say about me
June 19, 2026
It took me a long time to get into this book. I started really enjoying it at about 40%, it tought about DNF, but I'm glad I didn't because by the end, I did not want it to be done. The atmosphere and ambiance are so well described that it feels like this book really brings you somewhere else in the world. It was particularly interesting as a part of the Canadian queer community to read a story that felt so close but also so different. I'll probably buy a physical copy of this one.
One thing to note: if you speak 0 spanish, this book isn't for you. It is written in a mix of Spanish and English, and I feel it should be mentioned somewhere on the book. Of course, when reading a book set in Bogota, you expect some words or expressions, but it's a lot more than that. More like a 25/75 if not more. As someone who has an academic Spanish, it was so fun to discover adult slang, insults and queer words ( I did my own research for those, as it's assumed you understand them).
I listened to the audiobook and the narrators did an amazing job bringing this story to life!
Thank you, Netgalley and Dreamscape Media for providing me with an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
One thing to note: if you speak 0 spanish, this book isn't for you. It is written in a mix of Spanish and English, and I feel it should be mentioned somewhere on the book. Of course, when reading a book set in Bogota, you expect some words or expressions, but it's a lot more than that. More like a 25/75 if not more. As someone who has an academic Spanish, it was so fun to discover adult slang, insults and queer words ( I did my own research for those, as it's assumed you understand them).
I listened to the audiobook and the narrators did an amazing job bringing this story to life!
Thank you, Netgalley and Dreamscape Media for providing me with an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
Did Not Finish
May 25, 2026Received an advanced audiobook from netgalley
I listened to about 20% of this book before deciding that it wasn’t really for me. I think it has an interesting concept but it just wasn’t gripping me. This could easily be because of the narrators and not the book itself. I sadly don’t have access to the physical copy to try and finish so this book will the remain as a DNF for now.
If this book’s summery intrigues you, I’d say give it a shot.
I listened to about 20% of this book before deciding that it wasn’t really for me. I think it has an interesting concept but it just wasn’t gripping me. This could easily be because of the narrators and not the book itself. I sadly don’t have access to the physical copy to try and finish so this book will the remain as a DNF for now.
If this book’s summery intrigues you, I’d say give it a shot.
May 28, 2026
Thank you to NetGalley for the copy of this audiobook.
Story follows a daughter and her father in present time and flashbacks where father was around her age as they navigate their family and sexuality.
This was beautifully written albeit a bit hard to follow at least in the beginning, but that might have been just a me problem.
This has honestly exceeded my expectations
Audiobook: distinctions between two POVs/timelines is made clear and the narrators do a brilliant job making you care for the characters
Story follows a daughter and her father in present time and flashbacks where father was around her age as they navigate their family and sexuality.
This was beautifully written albeit a bit hard to follow at least in the beginning, but that might have been just a me problem.
This has honestly exceeded my expectations
Audiobook: distinctions between two POVs/timelines is made clear and the narrators do a brilliant job making you care for the characters
June 3, 2026
Devastating. Thrilling.
4.5 stars.
4.5 stars.
Want to Read
May 22, 2026Thank you to Liveright for the ARC! Heard nothing but good things about this one
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Substack | Bookstagram | BookTok | BookTube | Bookshop.org Store | Libro.fm Bonus Offer
Review of advance copy received from NetGalley
I enjoyed inhabiting Pretend You're Dead and I Carry You by Julián Delgado Lopera, set somewhere between Bogotá 1990 and wherever grief goes when it has nowhere left to travel.
Narrators Lee Osorio and Maria McCann embodied it with gusto and great vocal energy. They master the characters in their complexity, colouring each one with real detail and distinction.
We follow father and daughter Ignacio and Valentina as they navigate loss, depression, and the weight of a queerness neither of them fully understands as inheritance. The book opens in the present, where Valentina is largely fending for herself, dealing with grief and depression. Her mother has drowned in circumstances that don't quite add up, and her father Ignacio has all but disappeared into himself, surrounded by rotting houseplants, lost in what Lopera calls the olvido, oblivion. The television flickers constantly, a strange and hypnotic presence in the household. It's through telenovelas, specifically the melodramatic Rios de Vida Rios de Muerte, that Valentina begins to piece together what actually happened to her mother. Happiness is a choice, the TV instructs cheerfully. Choose to be happy, set your mind free. The gap between that and Valentina's actual life is where much of the novel's dark humour lives.
The mix of English and Spanish is so refreshing and both narrators handle it with total confidence. I could close my eyes and I was there in Bogotá 1990, eating arroz con pollo, drinking aguardiente, watching telenovelas with Valentina and Jesse. It was never a distraction. It actually augmented the experience.
Ignacio's chapters move between his present stupor and his past at Club Aquario, Bogotá's underground gathering place for queer and trans people to live out their truths. He lives in stories the way some people live in drink, seeking escape and salvation in equal measure. One story in particular keeps returning: a man who dressed as a woman, was beaten by men for it, refused to die, and came back as a bird. It sounds like myth, and it is, but it also functions as prophecy. Ignacio would never let anyone see his tears. But the cows the prose offers at one point, and somehow that incomplete, elliptical tenderness tells you everything about him. His self-loathing runs deep, rooted in the boy he loved and abandoned at Club Aquario, and the novel suggests that this rejection of his own queer self has consequences that don't end with him.
When Valentina is drunk on aguardiente with her friend Jesse, she says: Papi would chain me to this bed and have us watch telenovelas for the rest of our lives. It's funny and devastating simultaneously. Jesse knows when Valentina isn't fully present; on those days she announces herself with a phrase that functions almost as weather: hoy soy puro Rio Magdalena, today I am pure Magdalena river. The twilight hour, the in-between time for the living and the dead, hangs over everything.
Anchoring it all is Tía Mama, a travesti matriarch (travesti being a Latin American term that imperfectly translates to "transfeminine people") who steps in to care for Valentina when Ignacio cannot. She is based on Lopera's own trans mother, Adela Vasquez, a Cuban immigrant who died two years ago and who was in his life for almost fifteen years. Her presence in the novel is enormous: practical, warm, and fiercely protective. The Rodriguez family's complicated bonds are held together as much by her as by blood.
“Mi Cielo, we all carry the weight of our doings and the weight of our doings is nothing but layered pain. But can you blame anyone for trying to run away from pain. Can you blame anyone for wanting to be loved? "
What Lopera does brilliantly is refuse to frame queerness as tragedy or deviation. Instead it's lineage, intergenerational destiny rather than family curse. The novel reaches back 500 years to the first trans people recorded in the Americas, thrown into the Magdalena River by Spanish colonisers, and insists those people are ancestors. That the current living and the historical dead are connected by something more than metaphor. "How do we call that an ancestral lineage?" Lopera has asked in interviews, speaking about transness and bloodlines. His answer is that we have one. A very strong connection to it. The book is built around that conviction.
It's also, and this matters, very funny. "Life is not a Kiki" is the kind of line (and chapter title) that lodges in your brain and stays there. "Category is: testosterone gone bad" is another. Indicating the drag queen language influence in Lopera's prose, which is both striking and indelible, full of turns of phrase that arrive like small shocks.
Now, back to the Spanglish, because it deserves its own moment. Some readers may find the transition between English and Spanish disorienting, but I was completely elated by it. The Spanish words are peppered throughout, never explained, never used as a device to signal difference. Lopera treats Spanglish the way you would treat French or Italian, as simply the language these characters speak, carrying its own textures and registers. It is amazingly lyrical. The Spanish words created atmosphere and made me feel immersed in a way that straight English prose simply couldn't have achieved.
It's not a happy book, and it doesn't pretend to be. The grief is genuine, the cultural homophobia is violent, the self-loathing that passes from generation to generation is heavy and specific. But it arrives somewhere. Not resolution exactly, more like the particular peace of understanding where the weight came from.
Highly recommended, especially on audio, If you dare.
Huge thanks to Dreamscape media for the alc
#pudseyrecommends
Narrators Lee Osorio and Maria McCann embodied it with gusto and great vocal energy. They master the characters in their complexity, colouring each one with real detail and distinction.
We follow father and daughter Ignacio and Valentina as they navigate loss, depression, and the weight of a queerness neither of them fully understands as inheritance. The book opens in the present, where Valentina is largely fending for herself, dealing with grief and depression. Her mother has drowned in circumstances that don't quite add up, and her father Ignacio has all but disappeared into himself, surrounded by rotting houseplants, lost in what Lopera calls the olvido, oblivion. The television flickers constantly, a strange and hypnotic presence in the household. It's through telenovelas, specifically the melodramatic Rios de Vida Rios de Muerte, that Valentina begins to piece together what actually happened to her mother. Happiness is a choice, the TV instructs cheerfully. Choose to be happy, set your mind free. The gap between that and Valentina's actual life is where much of the novel's dark humour lives.
The mix of English and Spanish is so refreshing and both narrators handle it with total confidence. I could close my eyes and I was there in Bogotá 1990, eating arroz con pollo, drinking aguardiente, watching telenovelas with Valentina and Jesse. It was never a distraction. It actually augmented the experience.
Ignacio's chapters move between his present stupor and his past at Club Aquario, Bogotá's underground gathering place for queer and trans people to live out their truths. He lives in stories the way some people live in drink, seeking escape and salvation in equal measure. One story in particular keeps returning: a man who dressed as a woman, was beaten by men for it, refused to die, and came back as a bird. It sounds like myth, and it is, but it also functions as prophecy. Ignacio would never let anyone see his tears. But the cows the prose offers at one point, and somehow that incomplete, elliptical tenderness tells you everything about him. His self-loathing runs deep, rooted in the boy he loved and abandoned at Club Aquario, and the novel suggests that this rejection of his own queer self has consequences that don't end with him.
When Valentina is drunk on aguardiente with her friend Jesse, she says: Papi would chain me to this bed and have us watch telenovelas for the rest of our lives. It's funny and devastating simultaneously. Jesse knows when Valentina isn't fully present; on those days she announces herself with a phrase that functions almost as weather: hoy soy puro Rio Magdalena, today I am pure Magdalena river. The twilight hour, the in-between time for the living and the dead, hangs over everything.
Anchoring it all is Tía Mama, a travesti matriarch (travesti being a Latin American term that imperfectly translates to "transfeminine people") who steps in to care for Valentina when Ignacio cannot. She is based on Lopera's own trans mother, Adela Vasquez, a Cuban immigrant who died two years ago and who was in his life for almost fifteen years. Her presence in the novel is enormous: practical, warm, and fiercely protective. The Rodriguez family's complicated bonds are held together as much by her as by blood.
“Mi Cielo, we all carry the weight of our doings and the weight of our doings is nothing but layered pain. But can you blame anyone for trying to run away from pain. Can you blame anyone for wanting to be loved? "
What Lopera does brilliantly is refuse to frame queerness as tragedy or deviation. Instead it's lineage, intergenerational destiny rather than family curse. The novel reaches back 500 years to the first trans people recorded in the Americas, thrown into the Magdalena River by Spanish colonisers, and insists those people are ancestors. That the current living and the historical dead are connected by something more than metaphor. "How do we call that an ancestral lineage?" Lopera has asked in interviews, speaking about transness and bloodlines. His answer is that we have one. A very strong connection to it. The book is built around that conviction.
It's also, and this matters, very funny. "Life is not a Kiki" is the kind of line (and chapter title) that lodges in your brain and stays there. "Category is: testosterone gone bad" is another. Indicating the drag queen language influence in Lopera's prose, which is both striking and indelible, full of turns of phrase that arrive like small shocks.
Now, back to the Spanglish, because it deserves its own moment. Some readers may find the transition between English and Spanish disorienting, but I was completely elated by it. The Spanish words are peppered throughout, never explained, never used as a device to signal difference. Lopera treats Spanglish the way you would treat French or Italian, as simply the language these characters speak, carrying its own textures and registers. It is amazingly lyrical. The Spanish words created atmosphere and made me feel immersed in a way that straight English prose simply couldn't have achieved.
It's not a happy book, and it doesn't pretend to be. The grief is genuine, the cultural homophobia is violent, the self-loathing that passes from generation to generation is heavy and specific. But it arrives somewhere. Not resolution exactly, more like the particular peace of understanding where the weight came from.
Highly recommended, especially on audio, If you dare.
Huge thanks to Dreamscape media for the alc
#pudseyrecommends
October 28, 2026
Dynamically written and electric. Despite that, I struggled to really get into in a way that wouldn't allow me to put it down. However, getting closer to the end when that magical realism hits - incredible.
Did Not Finish
August 2, 2026Dnf at around 80%
April 9, 2026
Valentina feels like she is drowning in the dingy Bogota apartment she shares with her father, who has drifted deeper and deeper into depression since the passing of his wife and Valentina’s mother. Her father is cloaked in a sadness she cannot understand, one that only he himself and the group of travestis who have known him for years know. With the days slipping into an alcoholic haze of television and piling bills, Valentina feels her devastation grow as her father sinks deeper into memory.
This novel really stunned me. The writing is beautiful and fluid, deftly walking the line between the poetic and the casual. I loved the descriptions in this book: the way the apartment was portrayed as drowsy yet suffocating, the sense of liberation at the river, the dull monotony of Ignacio’s home town. I also adored the characters in this story, the way they all have their nuances and complexities that make you care about them even when they’re not entirely likable. I loved the alternating POV’s and the richness they gave to the story.
The whole novel is suffused with such a deep sense of pain, of self-loathing, loneliness and regret. It is both suffocating and captivating at the same time. This was honestly a phenomenal read, and one of my favorites of the year — I highly recommend it!
Thank you to W. W. Norton & Company and NetGalley for providing me with an ARC in exchange for my fair and honest review!
This novel really stunned me. The writing is beautiful and fluid, deftly walking the line between the poetic and the casual. I loved the descriptions in this book: the way the apartment was portrayed as drowsy yet suffocating, the sense of liberation at the river, the dull monotony of Ignacio’s home town. I also adored the characters in this story, the way they all have their nuances and complexities that make you care about them even when they’re not entirely likable. I loved the alternating POV’s and the richness they gave to the story.
The whole novel is suffused with such a deep sense of pain, of self-loathing, loneliness and regret. It is both suffocating and captivating at the same time. This was honestly a phenomenal read, and one of my favorites of the year — I highly recommend it!
Thank you to W. W. Norton & Company and NetGalley for providing me with an ARC in exchange for my fair and honest review!
May 31, 2026
This story was both heartbreaking and beautiful. This story was filled with beautiful prose, out loud laughs, and devastating moments. At times it felt like a warm hug and being embraced by others and then there were moments where you just want to cry.
This is a must read and experience type of novel. The audio was done so beautifully and there was something so comforting about the seamless switching between Spanish and English. I loved that this book showed up authentically as what it was, with no translations needed. It conveyed depth and felt alive in a way I can't describe. I highly recommend the audio as the voice acting was superb and just added so much texture and depth. With the voices shinning through. It felt like I was sitting around the fire listening to someone share history.
If you love diving into deep family lore and trying to understand how people's lives are impacted this is a story to do that with. I don't want to give anything away, its worth the experience, the depth, and the nod to culture and what has been lost and what can be found. Thank you to the publisher for providing an ALC via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
This is a must read and experience type of novel. The audio was done so beautifully and there was something so comforting about the seamless switching between Spanish and English. I loved that this book showed up authentically as what it was, with no translations needed. It conveyed depth and felt alive in a way I can't describe. I highly recommend the audio as the voice acting was superb and just added so much texture and depth. With the voices shinning through. It felt like I was sitting around the fire listening to someone share history.
If you love diving into deep family lore and trying to understand how people's lives are impacted this is a story to do that with. I don't want to give anything away, its worth the experience, the depth, and the nod to culture and what has been lost and what can be found. Thank you to the publisher for providing an ALC via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
September 7, 2026
Cliched, disorganized, trite, amateurish, and boring. The author was so busy patting themself on the back for coming up with this tired-ass "sassy queen" narrative voice they forgot to pay attention to the rudiments of how to write a novel. Easily the worst book I have read in the last decade.
September 24, 2026
I can’t remember the last time a book made me feel this proud of where I come from. Pretend You’re Dead and I Carry You gave me something I didn’t realize I had been missing: the feeling of seeing Colombian culture and queer Latino life reflected on the page with so much specificity, tenderness, and honesty. As a gay Colombian man, that feeling was incredibly special.
There is something so powerful about seeing pieces of your own culture, language, family, history, and queerness reflected on the page. I kept thinking about how much a book like this could mean to little Latino boys growing up and wondering if there is a place in the world for someone like them. There is so much strength in telling these stories and giving them the space they deserve.
The Colombian sayings, expressions, humor, and idioms throughout the book felt especially familiar. There were moments when I could practically hear the voices of people I grew up around. That kind of recognition is such a beautiful feeling, especially when you don’t often get to experience it in literature.
The writing is also deeply rooted in Spanglish, weaving Spanish and English together in a way that feels completely natural to the characters and their world. I do think being bilingual, or at least having some familiarity with Spanish, will allow you to fully appreciate the layers of the language, humor, and cultural references. For me, that was one of the most immersive parts of the reading experience. It never felt like Spanish was being translated or explained for an outside audience. It simply was. And that meant so much to me.
And how incredible that this book has been nominated for the National Book Award. I couldn’t be happier to see a story like this receiving that kind of recognition. Queer Latino stories, particularly ones rooted so specifically in our cultures and communities, deserve to take up space in the literary world.
More than anything, this book reminded me why stories like these matter. Not because every story needs to look like ours, but because sometimes you need to open a book and find something familiar staring back at you.
For every little Latino boy who has ever felt different. For every queer kid who wondered whether his story was worth telling. For every Colombian who has heard these sayings, understood these jokes, and recognized these complicated pieces of home I hope you find something here that feels like yours.
I’m so glad this book exists, and I’m so proud to see it being recognized.
There is something so powerful about seeing pieces of your own culture, language, family, history, and queerness reflected on the page. I kept thinking about how much a book like this could mean to little Latino boys growing up and wondering if there is a place in the world for someone like them. There is so much strength in telling these stories and giving them the space they deserve.
The Colombian sayings, expressions, humor, and idioms throughout the book felt especially familiar. There were moments when I could practically hear the voices of people I grew up around. That kind of recognition is such a beautiful feeling, especially when you don’t often get to experience it in literature.
The writing is also deeply rooted in Spanglish, weaving Spanish and English together in a way that feels completely natural to the characters and their world. I do think being bilingual, or at least having some familiarity with Spanish, will allow you to fully appreciate the layers of the language, humor, and cultural references. For me, that was one of the most immersive parts of the reading experience. It never felt like Spanish was being translated or explained for an outside audience. It simply was. And that meant so much to me.
And how incredible that this book has been nominated for the National Book Award. I couldn’t be happier to see a story like this receiving that kind of recognition. Queer Latino stories, particularly ones rooted so specifically in our cultures and communities, deserve to take up space in the literary world.
More than anything, this book reminded me why stories like these matter. Not because every story needs to look like ours, but because sometimes you need to open a book and find something familiar staring back at you.
For every little Latino boy who has ever felt different. For every queer kid who wondered whether his story was worth telling. For every Colombian who has heard these sayings, understood these jokes, and recognized these complicated pieces of home I hope you find something here that feels like yours.
I’m so glad this book exists, and I’m so proud to see it being recognized.
June 3, 2026
Whoa this was a wild ride! The story followed a young girl and her dad after her mom died. The dad is depresso but also gay& flamboyant. He has a whole gay family complete with drag queens that help him raise his daughter. It was crazy to think how many men have a whole secret (or not so secret) life while having a whole ass family. The book was part of a reading challenge which is how i came across it. I wouldnt have picked it on my own but it wasn’t a bad read! I loved the culture and the characters were fabulous and fun 🤩
November 3, 2026
WOW!!!!! probably my favorite book i've read all year. gutting and gorgeous and compassionate and incisive and funny. I don't know if the ending fully landed for me (it felt like the bit with the tincture and magdalena came out of nowhere) but I see why it was included -- Valentina isn't the only sad young gxrl being raised by magical and magnanimous travestis. it was such a ballsy move to include all of that Spanish but it really paid off -- i felt so immersed in this world. i want to live in the scenes by the river!!!!! they made me feel so warm and tender toward my own rivers too. I will be recommending this to all of my friends!
September 27, 2026
Books like this are exactly why I read prize lists; without the National Book Award for Fiction, I don’t know if I ever would have heard of this one, much less picked it up! But I’m so glad I did, because I loved it, and I couldn’t be happier to see that it is not just a longlister but a finalist (maybe the winner?? I wouldn’t be mad!).
Pretend You’re Dead and I Carry You is a dual-timeline, dual- narration novel set in Bogotá, Colombia. It follows a girl named Valentina in the present as she faces the trials of early teenagerdom (including feelings for her best friend, Jesse), while her father spirals after the death of her mother. And it follows her father, Ignacio, in the past as he grew up in rural, hyper-machismo Colombia while developing feelings about himself and another (rather feminine) boy. There are also some incredible chapters told by Ignacio’s travesti (transfemme) mother, Mamadora Eléctrica.
This was such a pleasant surprise of a novel! It’s deeply felt, hilarious, and devastating, told in a voice that crackles with life. Mamadora Eléctrica is so vibrant and electric she could walk off the page; Ignacio has a visceral, heartbreaking story that won’t let you go; and Valentina’s sections are written with an aching clarity that will cut you to the quick. And there’s just a touch of magical realism toward the end that brings it all together like icing on a cake. (Travesti lore <333)
Lopera has given us just a glimpse of the way Latin America’s expectations of masculinity led queer boys to whiplash between grief and self-loathing vs joy and love — plus Bogotá’s underground drag queen scene in the 90s, plus the way queerness need not be an island when it can be a lineage — but it is more than enough to sink its claws into you.
Finally, I beg you to read this one via audiobook. The voice actors’ performances really brought these characters to life, and their treatment of the novel’s frequent use of spanglish felt nothing short of natural (plus, their inflection really helped me get the most out of it given that I don’t speak Spanish).
Please read this book!
Pretend You’re Dead and I Carry You is a dual-timeline, dual- narration novel set in Bogotá, Colombia. It follows a girl named Valentina in the present as she faces the trials of early teenagerdom (including feelings for her best friend, Jesse), while her father spirals after the death of her mother. And it follows her father, Ignacio, in the past as he grew up in rural, hyper-machismo Colombia while developing feelings about himself and another (rather feminine) boy. There are also some incredible chapters told by Ignacio’s travesti (transfemme) mother, Mamadora Eléctrica.
This was such a pleasant surprise of a novel! It’s deeply felt, hilarious, and devastating, told in a voice that crackles with life. Mamadora Eléctrica is so vibrant and electric she could walk off the page; Ignacio has a visceral, heartbreaking story that won’t let you go; and Valentina’s sections are written with an aching clarity that will cut you to the quick. And there’s just a touch of magical realism toward the end that brings it all together like icing on a cake. (Travesti lore <333)
Lopera has given us just a glimpse of the way Latin America’s expectations of masculinity led queer boys to whiplash between grief and self-loathing vs joy and love — plus Bogotá’s underground drag queen scene in the 90s, plus the way queerness need not be an island when it can be a lineage — but it is more than enough to sink its claws into you.
Finally, I beg you to read this one via audiobook. The voice actors’ performances really brought these characters to life, and their treatment of the novel’s frequent use of spanglish felt nothing short of natural (plus, their inflection really helped me get the most out of it given that I don’t speak Spanish).
Please read this book!
October 10, 2026
An absolute masterpiece. I’d leave 5.25 if I could. I’d leave 10 if I could.
Not enjoying this of DNF it is a pure skill issue
Every twist and turn, every story line, every very Colombian and queer moment. A lifechanging book I’ll never forget it.
¿CÓMO TE ROMPO EL CORAZÓN, PAPI?
Not enjoying this of DNF it is a pure skill issue
Every twist and turn, every story line, every very Colombian and queer moment. A lifechanging book I’ll never forget it.
¿CÓMO TE ROMPO EL CORAZÓN, PAPI?
Did Not Finish
October 13, 2026It's not you, it's me, I'm the problem.
In all seriousness, this was a well written and interesting book, however it was deeply depressing and I need something lighter. Maybe I will return to this in the future.
In all seriousness, this was a well written and interesting book, however it was deeply depressing and I need something lighter. Maybe I will return to this in the future.
June 27, 2026
I was looking for a good book and I found a GREAT ONE! loved the LGBTQ+ in this book, I resonated with characters and saw my family in other characters.
June 27, 2026
I genuinely, warmly loved this book. It's so layered and I deeply enjoyed the characters, especially Valentina.
Did Not Finish
September 27, 2026sorry to bookclub i could not
September 30, 2026
Grief, laughter, love, identity, community, family, and enough Spanish that I imagine Spanish speakers get even more out of it than I did. This is a special book. I hope more people find it.
May 26, 2026
The book was beautifully written and very descriptive. I was lost at points throughout, however. The plot and narration between characters didn’t seem to connect and left me confused.
July 9, 2026
It is such a privilege to be gay and supported and to have a community that loves you.
June 8, 2026
This beguiling book blew me away. We (the readers) are transported back and forth between two main characters (Ignacio the father and Valentina the daughter) and their place in time, past or present. The book is set in Colombia. Ignacio loves to cross dress. This is suspect in machismo culture. It broke my heart that he was hiding out and only being his real self with certain people. Felipe was his friend and lover when he was a young teen. What happened to Felipe (and Ignacio’s role in it) was an absolute heartbreaker. Valentina is growing into her sexuality and falls hard for Jesi. Jesi rejects her and that is also an absolute heartbreaker. The end of the book is freeing and made me cry. I cried a few times while reading this novel. It was cathartic!
I just think of how many people, in all cultures, don’t feel able to be their true selves and I find that very, very, very sad.
There is Spanish in this book. I found it easy to catch on to the meanings and occasionally would grab the dictionary. The style of writing was very inventive. At times, there were run-on sentences without punctuation in both English and Spanish. I found this word play poetic.
There is sexual experimentation in this book. And it was not gratuitous. I felt that it really emphasized the ongoing confusion of both characters—wondering who they were, wondering who they could emulate around them. There is a fantastic subplot whereby both Ignacio and Valentina both adore a gorgeous model and TV broadcaster named Natalia. They find her to be very strong. When she reveals her humanity (under duress) it is a shock but also a lesson.
I love magical realism in a story. In this case, Ignacio starts to grow feathers and begins transformation into a bird.
The title refers to when Ignacio was teaching Valentina how to float in water. But the title works on many more levels throughout the book.
There is a QR code for a Spotify playlist at the end of the book. I listened to the songs, and they were terrific (some in Spanish and some in English).
p.232/33 (About Tia Mama, my favorite character) Smoker of Marlboro Reds, cook of the best arroz con pollo, lover of old Hollywood movies, and hoarder of love. Octopus mother that won’t let go. With each tentacle Tia Mama wraps herself around each of her children, including her only grandchild, Valentina. With each tentacle she forces her love, including this slap on the face. See Tia Mama here: picking up Valentina from school when Papi had gone missing. Watching telenovas for months nestled with Valentina right after Alma died and Valentina was too afraid to sleep. Tia Mama on New Year’s Eve at her farm in Girardot twirling to the beats of Radio Candela in a floral dress, index fingers reaching toward the sky like two exclamation points. Tia Mama amid the chaos of a busy street blocking a truck after the driver yelled some nasty shit to her, fearless Tia Mama facing down the truck, her small Renault a fortress of determination. Wielding a club, Tia Mama defending herself in five-inch pumps and two-inch nails. In Valentina’s heart, Tia Mama is fearlessness, she is deep asphyxiating amor.
p.319 (Love this because Valentina is understanding how she is like her father.)
A sleep with no dreams no calls a sleep that’s more of a death. Giving up everything to meet God, the God of the river, the boy-looking girl with a piece of the river in her. Surrendering to the current of the Magalena. Valentina wonders if this surrendering is what Papi does each day, submitting to this other side, a dream place where life is rearranged, where the past hurts differently.
I just think of how many people, in all cultures, don’t feel able to be their true selves and I find that very, very, very sad.
There is Spanish in this book. I found it easy to catch on to the meanings and occasionally would grab the dictionary. The style of writing was very inventive. At times, there were run-on sentences without punctuation in both English and Spanish. I found this word play poetic.
There is sexual experimentation in this book. And it was not gratuitous. I felt that it really emphasized the ongoing confusion of both characters—wondering who they were, wondering who they could emulate around them. There is a fantastic subplot whereby both Ignacio and Valentina both adore a gorgeous model and TV broadcaster named Natalia. They find her to be very strong. When she reveals her humanity (under duress) it is a shock but also a lesson.
I love magical realism in a story. In this case, Ignacio starts to grow feathers and begins transformation into a bird.
The title refers to when Ignacio was teaching Valentina how to float in water. But the title works on many more levels throughout the book.
There is a QR code for a Spotify playlist at the end of the book. I listened to the songs, and they were terrific (some in Spanish and some in English).
p.232/33 (About Tia Mama, my favorite character) Smoker of Marlboro Reds, cook of the best arroz con pollo, lover of old Hollywood movies, and hoarder of love. Octopus mother that won’t let go. With each tentacle Tia Mama wraps herself around each of her children, including her only grandchild, Valentina. With each tentacle she forces her love, including this slap on the face. See Tia Mama here: picking up Valentina from school when Papi had gone missing. Watching telenovas for months nestled with Valentina right after Alma died and Valentina was too afraid to sleep. Tia Mama on New Year’s Eve at her farm in Girardot twirling to the beats of Radio Candela in a floral dress, index fingers reaching toward the sky like two exclamation points. Tia Mama amid the chaos of a busy street blocking a truck after the driver yelled some nasty shit to her, fearless Tia Mama facing down the truck, her small Renault a fortress of determination. Wielding a club, Tia Mama defending herself in five-inch pumps and two-inch nails. In Valentina’s heart, Tia Mama is fearlessness, she is deep asphyxiating amor.
p.319 (Love this because Valentina is understanding how she is like her father.)
A sleep with no dreams no calls a sleep that’s more of a death. Giving up everything to meet God, the God of the river, the boy-looking girl with a piece of the river in her. Surrendering to the current of the Magalena. Valentina wonders if this surrendering is what Papi does each day, submitting to this other side, a dream place where life is rearranged, where the past hurts differently.
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