Cars on Fire

by Mónica Ramón Ríos, Robin Myers (Translator)

Cars on Fire, Mónica Ramón Ríos’s electric, uncompromising English-language debut, unfolds through a series of female characters―the writer, the patient, the immigrant, the professor, the student―whose identities are messy and ever-shifting. A speechwriter is employed writing for would-be dictators, but plays in a rock band as a means of protest. A failed Marxist cuts off her own head as a final poetic act. With incredible formal range, from the linear to the more free-wheeling, the real to the fantastical to the dystopic, Rios offers striking, jarring glimpses into life as a woman and an immigrant. Set in New York City, New Jersey, and Chile’s La Zona Central, the stories in Cars on Fire offer powerful remembrances to those lost to violence, and ultimately make the case for the power of art, love, and feminine desire to subvert the oppressive forces―xenophobia, neoliberalism, social hierarchies within the academic world―that shape life in Chile and the United States.

Genres: Fiction, Short Stories, Literary Fiction, Feminism

175 pages, Paperback

First published April 14, 2020

Reviews

[s.penkevich [hiatus-will return-miss you all] · Rating 3 out of 5]

‘ I want to use my words as bullets,’ a narrator writes in Chilean author Mónica Ramón Ríos’ short story collection Cars on Fire, a declarative that could address the aims of these stories itself. ‘My pen is also a gun that wants to blow up the monovocal, monotonous realities imposed on us by capitalism,’ says the author in an interview with Robin Myers (who expertly translated this collection), ‘This voice wants to express them all. I like to call it kaleidoscopic.’ And indeed, these stories are a kaleidoscopic riot of voices in commentary on their unsteady landscapes of identity, remarking on issues from love, feminism, violence and more in these Pan-American stories. Split into three sections, these stories move across National boundaries as well as formalistic boundaries in a raucous rebellion while their ‘centripetal force of fantasy’ spirals in search of identity.

The opening section, Obituary, tends to move towards impressions of death before moving into the more digressive stories in Invocation and exploding into abstraction in the third and final section, Scenes from the Spectral Zone. Right from the opening introductory story and The Writer, Ríos casts a spell over the reader to examine ideas of shifting or uncertain identity, displacing any concrete notion of who the writer is and showing how one’s own work can become the work of another’s, even against their own final wishes. There is an existential edge to the searches for identity in this collection, with feelings of alienation permeating many stories. These are displaced characters, lonely characters, characters struggling with the aftershocks of military rule in Chile, and characters trying to construct a sense of self in the maelstrom of violence, xenophobia and social ills around them. As Rios says, she wrote these stories as ‘a protest against identity itself,’ and the disquieting ambiguity of Self within them are the key to transformation.

Her use of names, or lack thereof, helps buttress the effect. Many characters are nameless and often synecdochical as the stories are populated by ‘The student’, the ‘coffee-cup neighbor’, ‘The Extermination’, ‘the books-in-the-backpack neighbor’, and so forth. What is an identifying feature one day may be replaced by another later. This is best exemplified in The Object, where the object in question is constantly changing and the lack of identification feels indicative of a lack of a singular truth or self. This story also features Gordon Lish in an unflattering depiction as he speaks in the bookstore visited by the narrator:

‘All of us are outside the bookstore. Inside is a city that no longer exists. Outside, we can breathe. Inside is anxiety, the fear of a tyrannical white man who watches with horror and rage as the world transforms around him, as if it were the code to some indecipherable science. Outside, space has twisted into folds, a spiral where our very breathing grants it those multiple universes. The city fades away with every block: the city of shortage, poverty, excess, the centripetal force of fantasy, the void where bombs and fish rain down’

The shifting identity is also addressed through examinations of sexual identity, such as in Animal Mosaic where a boy joins a cult that merges humans and animals just to be closer to the preacher’s son, or in Invocation where a split-page form allows two characters to interact in a conversation of prose that addresses shifting sexual identities. Rios also show how a shift in identity can take place through time, such as in Ghosts where the ghost of the story might be the memory of a former lover, or it might be the narrator’s memory of her own self when she suddenly realizes ‘I didn’t recognize myself.’

Another primary theme of this collection is violence. ‘Freedom was defined by whoever pulled a weapon first,’ a student says as the military put down student protestors outside. There is the failed Marxist who cuts off her own head as a poetic act, gun violence in a classroom, and the violence done against women which figures prominently in many stories. The opener, Imprecation, lists the names of murdered women and Dead Men Don’t Rape addresses the femicides in South America. The latter is a particularly powerful story, featuring a punk rock band member who, shockingly, makes her living writing speech writers for politicians. Most of the speeches are calls for violence against immigrants or other particularly horrendous positions, with a former US president being listed as one of the people who delivers a speech written by her, described as ‘the man with hands like squirrels.’ This is a bitter indictment against capitalism, with laboring to survive literally depicted as something that is against not only your own self-interest but possibly survival.

This is an impressive collection, though a bit obfuscating at times. For many of the stories, Rios takes a step back almost as if to slice away any emotional attachment which can make the stories arrive a bit cold on the plate. Though the intellectual deep dives are quite excellent, and done in quick sufficient manner with most of the stories being quite brief. Existential and provocative, these stories have the heart of resistance and the strength for a harrowing fight.

3.5/5

[Brendan Monroe · Rating 1 out of 5]

Sometimes one just has to be honest — it's not me, it's you. Or, in this case, it's Ríos.

I really wanted to like this short story collection out of Chile. I had high hopes. But these stories read as a collection of empty words stripped of all passion and meaning. There's just nothing here worth recounting, or even remembering.

I had no sooner finished a story than I'd forgotten about it. Never have I felt so unmoved by a piece of writing. The manuals one gets from IKEA on how to put a bookcase together have more feeling in them.

Is this down to the translation or to the writer? I can't say. Because when I read the summary of the book — which I did in order to try and figure out what these stories were actually trying to say — the "feminine desire to subvert the oppressive forces―xenophobia, neoliberalism, social hierarchies within the academic world―that shape life in Chile and the United States," then I'm all on board. But then you read and find that any desire, any force, any attempt to subvert oppression, is woefully lacking here.

The first few stories failed to leave any impression whatsoever, but nevertheless, I pressed on until getting to the title story. That one was just as devoid of passion, of feeling, as the rest. If the title story doesn't do it, why keep going?

So I stopped. No point wasting any more of either of our time. Like a bad date, I'll just chalk this one up to a lack of chemistry, and while I could go on, there's just nothing more worth saying.

Swipe left on this one.

[jeremy · Rating 4 out of 5]

mónica ramón ríos's cars on fire is an eclectic, macabre, frequently sensational collection of short fiction. the chilean author's work is suffused with death and violence and writers and perspectives askew. ríos's writing has a tantalizing charm and her stories often focus on the marginalized and maligned, offering recompense to those so often rejected (or worse). cars on fire is divided into three parts, the first, "obituary," contains the collection's strongest (and shortest) pieces. ríos also has three novels, hopefully on their way to translated editions posthaste.

a defenseless enemy is obliging and affectionate. we'll only have to be vigilant in our own beds, because that's where they usually strike, dagger in hand. we'll defend ourselves: we'll contain them in special cities, where we'll furnish them with entertainment and retrograde ideas so that all of you, queridos compatriots míos, may feel adequately liberal. these imports will be your round-the-clock friends. we'll give you the opportunity to make brown-skinned, heavy-accented buddies and thus protect your sense of self-righteousness. our friendship is our finest weapon. we'll greet them with projectiles concealed behind our grins. this year, you'll be proud to be yourselves. you'll never notice that you were the ones who pierced their souls from within. remember: an american citizen is always a citizen with a clean conscience.

(from "dead men don't rape")

*translated from the spanish by robin myers

[〰️Beth〰️ · Rating 4 out of 5]

I had to read each short story then process it before moving to the next one. I read each one twice as well. Some were a struggle but all were thought provoking.

[Matthew · Rating 4 out of 5]

An often exciting but sometimes opaque collection of short stories from Chilean author Rios. Themes of alienation, left-leaning politics, protests against injustice, immigration issues, and feminism run throughout the stories. I really loved a lot of these entries, especially those that were less experimental in structure.

[2TReads · Rating 2 out of 5]

The effort needed to get through the first story of the second section gave me a headache. I could not get the flow of the narrative at all; which is a shame as I enjoyed the sharp and direct tone of the stories in the first section.

So I had to DNF for now. I might come back to this one in the future.

[Anya gizis]

Enjoyed reading this. Have had it on my bookshelf for a while -- I think? Emilia recommended it.

Favorite was Invocation. That really sat with me.

Idk why I haven't been tagging my read around the world books but this is Chile.

[Charlie · Rating 4 out of 5]

It felt good to dig into a short story collection that demands a lot of the reader on a narratological level. Ríos does not follow the easiest way into her violent stories of civil unrest and neoliberal destruction, and as a result, entire stories can go by before you find your way into them. It's a book that demands rereading, without being endlessly pedantic. Some highlights: The Head, The Student, Dead Men Don't Rape, and Cars on Fire.

[Diego Lovegood · Rating 2 out of 5]

Not my thing. No me toma la escritura tipo Diamela Eltit.

[Addison Rizer · Rating 4 out of 5]

Gorgeously written, thought-provoking, and smart (though sometimes a little too abstract). “Extermination” and “Cars on Fire” will, for different reasons, stick with me for a long time.

[Felipe Arriagada · Rating 3 out of 5]

A nivel general es un libro donde se demuestra maestria y manejo técnico, pero sin sangre en sus venas. Se nota que es un libro escrito para entregar cierta cuota de exotismo latinoamericano al lector gringo, un ejercicio académico de una académica que se esfuerza por darle cierta aventura a la monotonía que implica la vida del investigador. El libro fue publicado primero en inglés lo que refuerza esta idea del libro-souvenir que lleva 'a la comodidad de su american sillones' ciertas texturas, discursos coloquiales y violencias para que en palabras de la misma autora, el lector gringo se sienta el bueno, el empático. Hay una excesiva presencia, visible y molesta, cual costura, del alter-ego literario de la narradora. De alguna u otra forma aparece siempre la narradora, trasuntada en ahora una aprendiz, luego una vecina, una estudiante chilena en NA, siempre cargada de indulgencia.
Sin embargo, destaco el uso de la discursividad pudiendo pasar con comodidad de un lenguaje más retórico, propio del tono declamatorio y solemne, al tono más minimalista, lo coloquial, el spanglish. Más que autos que se queman (cuento), destaco en la misma sección el cuento de los adolescentes que se transfiguran dimensionalmente en animales. Todavía recuerdo sus texturas, la sensación de vértigo y la mezcla de planos, la tensión entre homosexualidad y religión.

[Melissa Cook · Rating 4 out of 5]

I read this (and most of the spanish translation, Autos Que Se Queman) for my final project in my spanish class on neoliberalism in the souther cone. It was an interesting read, especially contextualized within the unique duality that is the development of Neoliberalism in Chile on behalf of the United States. The author is Chilena, but lives between there and the US, primarily New York, and you can sense the displacement and the discomfort of being unrooted, both literally and figuratively. There is a general disgust with the systems that shape both of her countries and her writing is the visceral process of trying to work out how to exist within, or apart, or in spite of those dominating systems. It was a powerful read, but one I wish I could examine with others in concert. I think to process this kind of writing requires a community, which I would argue is the very heart of her thesis, burn that car (capitalism) down and build something new, a love and connection in community that transcends capital, patriarchy, militarism, and violence.

[Dan · Rating 3 out of 5]

A few stories in the middle of this book, starting with "The Animal Mosaic," make this collection worthwhile. The rest left me cold, too caught up in their own abstraction to build up anything you can really invest in. One story, "Invocation," though, does a good job of making the experiment work: I thought reading it would just be frustrating, but the back and forth (of the characters, and your eye) feels like a real conversation between the narrators, even as they talk over one another.

[Patricio S. Quiroga C. · Rating 4 out of 5]

Una escritora que descubrí el año pasado... cada cuento es un mundo lleno de densidades y miles de aristas argumentales.. Sin embargo, todo englobado en dinámicas de poder, la experiencia migrante y los esfuerzos cotidianos de rebeldia contra el status quo. Mis cuentos favoritos Yo veo Umbrales & El Escorpión los cuales coinciden con ser los unicos que agrego la autora para su versión en español. Me entra duda como podría ser traducido el Escorpión en la voz de alacrán.

[Jeff · Rating 3 out of 5]

"Dead Men Don't Rape" and "Cars on Fire" were both phenomenal pieces of writing. Overall the story telling was excellent even if some of the pieces felt uneven. This may have entirely to do with my understanding of translation rather than quality of writing.

[Jordan · Rating 3 out of 5]

I’ll be honest, I mostly just didn’t get this one. There was stuff I liked in the first two sections, particularly some of the Obituaries and the title story, but it was hard to really get engrossed in the stories, and after “Animal Mosaic” it was mostly opaque to me.

[Kayhell · Rating 4 out of 5]

underlined with apathy and ambiguous melodrama, a lot of the stories delved into the metaphysical. made me contemplate, which is smth i enjoy in short story collections :)

my favourites were Invocation, Extermination, Dead Men Don't Rape, and The Head. The Patient was fun, too.

[A L]

Edgy and dense, so impressively structured; a bit academic at times.

[Emily Jang · Rating 1 out of 5]

I didn't understand what I was reading, especially in the latter half of the book, and found my eyes just glazing over the words as a result.