For a similar purpose as Dengue Boy, Chilco uses the sci-fi genre to talk about the colonial legacy and the consequences of colonial, white, cis-heterosexist, capitalist exploitation of Indigenous peoples. What I found particularly interesting was the emphasis on investment urbanism, because that's something we're struggling with on the other side of the world where I live. I didn't like the ending though, because I don't think we need more of that particular trope to get the message across (I won't mention it so as not to spoil the ending). Although occasionally didactic, I found the novel quite to my taste. Terrible social and economic conditions sometimes need a loud and clear response.

In her mesmerizing novel "Chilco," Daniela Catrileo weaves a tapestry of magical realism that transcends typical post-apocalyptic narratives, offering instead a profound meditation on indigenous identity, environmental collapse, and the enduring power of human connection. Through the intertwined stories of Pascale and Marina, Catrileo crafts a world that feels both hauntingly familiar and strikingly original.

The novel's setting—split between the crumbling vertical slums of Capital City and the lush, mysterious island of Chilco—serves as more than mere backdrop. These locations become characters in their own right, each bearing the scars of colonialism and environmental exploitation. The sinkholes threatening to devour entire neighborhoods in Capital City serve as a powerful metaphor for the way capitalism continues to consume marginalized communities, while the island of Chilco represents both refuge and reckoning.

Catrileo's masterstroke lies in her ability to blend indigenous Mapudungun and Quechua elements seamlessly into the narrative fabric. Rather than feeling like cultural tourism, these elements form the very foundation of the story's worldview. The author's use of magical realism doesn't simply add whimsy—it provides a lens through which readers can better understand the indigenous perspective on humanity's relationship with the natural world.

The relationship between Pascale and Marina forms the emotional core of the novel. Their love story is complicated by their different backgrounds—Pascale's connection to Chilco and Marina's urban upbringing—creating tensions that mirror larger societal conflicts. Marina's perception of decay on the island, which only she can sense, becomes a brilliant device for exploring themes of belonging, displacement, and the psychological toll of colonial trauma.

What makes "Chilco" particularly engaging is Catrileo's careful pacing and innovative narrative structure. By alternating between traditional storytelling and archival elements, she creates a rich historical context that makes her near-future setting feel eerily plausible. The novel's ability to balance intimate personal drama with broader societal commentary is remarkable, making it accessible to readers interested in everything from climate fiction to love stories to cultural preservation.

Perhaps most impressive is how Catrileo has created a place that, despite its dystopian elements, readers will want to visit. The island of Chilco becomes a character so vividly realized that its tropical atmosphere, indigenous heritage, and even its underlying darkness become irresistibly fascinating. This achievement speaks to the author's skill in world-building that feels both fantastic and deeply grounded in reality.

"Chilco" stands as a significant contribution to contemporary literature, offering a unique perspective on pressing global issues while never losing sight of the human heart of the story. It's a novel that will resonate with readers long after they've turned the final page, inspiring them to think differently about their relationship with language, land, and legacy.

Thank you to NetGalley and Farrar, Straux and Girroux for this e-arc. This is going to make it onto my best translated fiction list for 2025.

"Chilco" was a visceral, immersive, poetic storytelling experience told in Mari Quispe's voice. Pascale, her lover, is from Isla de Chilco, a main character in this story. While their love story is a centerpiece of the story, the real story is one that might make you rage harder at colonialism and capitalism than you already are. Mari describes life in Capital City as the dog eat dog world it is, amid a government that fails to truly care for the poor, the indigenous and the working class citizens of the continent, who live hand to mouth.

Apart from the visceral reality of the lives of the everyday, ordinary people, what I absolutely loved about this novel was the way it felt like sitting with family and listening to a story about love, life, death, history, plants, sumptious and delectable indigenous foods I wish I could try and an island that seems both a treasure trove and a painful spot on the map of the world. So much of our lives have been upended by greedy, selfish men and the story of Mari, her awicha, and the women she meets, including Leila from Haiti, particularly resonate with me as a daughter of an archipelago.

Those of us who are from island states with histories of colonialism and the dispossession of indigenous people, perhaps you haven't heard about the Mapuche, Quechua, Aymara and other people of the Andes whose stories mirror so much of ours. This novel is worth more than a passing glance or a cursory blurb. I spent a few weeks reading this and letting it simmer to truly absorb the story, the language, the archives of memory, the food and the geography by doing some research on the Andean people and their history and experiences, delving into a brand new world.

This is an unusual little book; I can't say I've ever read anything quite like it and it certainly won't be for everyone because of the unconventional narrative style. It's part of my effort to read more translated literature this year. Eco-fiction set in a climate-ravaged future Peru that's been devastated by earthquakes and pockmarked by sinkholes.

Pascale is Mari's lover who has dreamed of escaping the devastated mainland for his island home, a place he views with saccharine nostalgia. Mari never wanted to leave her family and her job as a museum secretary, but she also loves Pascale and has a fear of abandonment, so she follows him to the island after the decision nearly breaks her. But once there the place never quite feels like home for either of them, the rhythms are off, and this is an island filled with dark family secrets. Mari is plagued by a strange smell in her own home and is gaslit by others about it, who feel she must be depressed.

I found the narrative confusing in the way it jumped between past and present abruptly, and there was an interesting mystery in the present but it was so briefly touched on that a close reading of the text is warranted or you can easily miss it. I found myself frequently confused by the plot.

But I loved the author's writing style and it was an interesting insight into indigenous island culture. I also stayed for the characters and loved Mari's bisexuality. Her and Pascale had a complicated and very real love that pulsed from the pages. The prose was lyrical and lush and I felt like I was plunged into a poem instead of reading a book, full of hidden meanings, fragmented narrative and metaphor.

Thank you to Netgalley and the publisher for the advance review copy. I am leaving this review voluntarily.

Thank you to Net Galley and Farrar, Straus and Giroux Publishing for providing me with an ARC of *Chilco*, in exchange for my honest review.

*Chilco* is a poignant and profound tale that delves into themes of love, defiance, and the quest for refuge from oppression. The narrative follows Marina and Pascale, a couple escaping the exploitation and violence of the Capital. Their journey to Chilco becomes both a literal and symbolic pursuit of liberation—a place where diverse identities and cultures can flourish, free from the divides of a fractured world.

Catrileo, a celebrated writer and poet, crafts a story rich in historical context, emotion, and resistance. Edelstein, the translator, excels in maintaining the essence and subtlety of the original, ensuring that every feeling and cultural nuance is faithfully conveyed. Edelstein’s skill in capturing the story’s soul reflects his profound understanding of both the original and translated languages.

The novel's prose is vivid, seamlessly blending cultures, colors, and voices to reflect the complexities of modern struggles. Through Marina and Pascale’s journey, Catrileo explores themes of displacement, belonging, and the power of both personal and collective memory. The characters are intricately developed, with their inner lives unfolding in a quiet but powerful way that resonates long after the book ends.

The narrative is immersive, with lyrical yet precise language and an emotional depth that leaves a lasting impact.

Chilco by Daniela Catrileo is a raw and hypnotic fable that weaves together love, loss, and the weight of history in a world unraveling at the seams. This novel is as much about place as it is about people—about the landscapes, both physical and emotional, that shape our identities and haunt our memories. With lyrical intensity, Catrileo crafts a narrative that blends the personal with the political, moving seamlessly between intimate reflection and broader societal critique.

At its heart is the relationship between Pascale and Marina, two women from vastly different backgrounds. Pascale was raised on Chilco, the lush island that gives the novel its name, while Marina grew up in the decaying vertical slums of Capital City, where inequality and environmental collapse threaten to swallow entire neighborhoods. The city is in free fall, a place of sinkholes and despair, where the poor—especially Indigenous communities—are trapped in an exploitative system that feeds on both labor and land. When Pascale and Marina escape to Chilco, they hope to find safety, but the island holds its own uneasy contradictions. Marina, in particular, is unable to shake a sense of decay, of something rotten just beneath the surface. The weight of history, the fractures in her relationship, and the ghosts of colonialism follow her across the water.

Catrileo’s background in poetry is evident in the novel’s language, The use of Indigenous Mapudungun and Quechua words is not just ornamental; it serves as a reclamation, a counterweight to the erasure imposed by colonial violence. The book does not offer easy resolutions—neither for its characters nor for the questions it raises about identity, belonging, and the wounds left by empire. Instead, it immerses the reader in a fever dream of uncertainty, where the past refuses to stay buried and the future remains unclear.

Chilco is not an easy read, nor does it try to be. It is urgent, unsettling, and demanding that the reader sit with its contradictions. Whether one agrees with all of its perspectives or not, Catrileo takes on the challenge of reflecting the turbulence of recent years with unflinching honesty. This is a novel that lingers, its sentences echoing long after the final page. #farrarstrauss

Chilco is a poetic and deeply moving novel that explores love, rebellion, and the search for a place free from oppression. The story follows Marina and Pascale, a couple fleeing the exploitation and colonial violence of the Capital. Their journey to Chilco is both a literal and symbolic quest for freedom—a place where diverse cultures and identities can thrive outside the constraints of a fractured society.

Catrileo, a renowned writer and philosopher, weaves a narrative rich in history, emotion, and resistance. The novel’s language is evocative, blending cultures, colors, and voices in a way that mirrors the complexities of contemporary struggles. Through Marina and Pascale’s journey, Catrileo explores themes of displacement, belonging, and the power of personal and collective memory. The characters are deeply realized, their inner lives unfolding with a quiet intensity that lingers long after the last page.
The storytelling is immersive, the prose lyrical yet sharp, and the emotional depth undeniable. 4 stars

This novel is a haunting meditation on the persistence of colonial violence and the ways in which it shapes both the land and the people who inhabit it. The dense, tropical atmosphere mirrors the complexity of the issues at play; social, cultural, and environmental, while the personal struggles of the characters add a layer of intimacy to the larger themes. It is not just a story about escaping a crumbling world; it’s a confrontation with the ways history, memory, and love are all bound together, often in ways that are difficult to escape. A dark, mesmerising read that will leave you thinking long after you’re done with it.