Some betrayals arrive like a lightning strike—sudden, devastating, and irreversible. Others, like Inés’s, are woven into the fabric of a life already in motion, unfolding with an almost fated inevitability.

Three weeks after Inés gave birth to her daughter, her husband ran off with her sister. The warning signs were there, but she ignored them. Orange Wine by Snyder tells her story—not just of heartbreak but of endurance, of carrying the weight of her family’s past while forging a future. The novel reads like a family secret passed down through generations, intimate yet distant, painful yet mesmerizing. Snyder’s poetic, economical prose mirrors the way elders recount tragedy—not with hysteria, but with a quiet, knowing acceptance.

This book is for those who love stories that feel both deeply personal and universal, for fans of Isabel Allende, Elena Ferrante, and Gabriel García Márquez. It lingers, much like the scent of citrus long after peeling an orange. Though Inés’s choices can be maddening—at times returning to pain like a dog to its own vomit—the novel evokes a full spectrum of emotions, making it an unforgettable read. Five stars.

Oh, this book hurts. That opening line alone knocked the wind out of me, and it does not let up from there.

Orange Wine is a gorgeously written, gut-wrenching novel about betrayal, identity, and the impossible choices women are forced to make. Set against early 20th-century Colombia, it follows Inés de la Rota, a woman trapped between societal expectations and her own artistic, passionate spirit. Her world is shaped by duty and sacrifice—until the weight of it all threatens to crush her.

Snyder’s prose is lush—like a glass of the book’s namesake, it’s both bitter and sweet, rich and sharp. The themes of sisterhood, motherhood, and self-liberation feel deeply resonant, and Inés’ struggle for agency is both devastating and inspiring.

Read this if you love The House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende or the kind of literary fiction that makes you stare at the ceiling and rethink your entire life. Absolute chef’s kiss of a book.

Some stories are told as they unfold, urgent and immediate. Others are recounted with a layer of distance, shaped by time and memory, emotions softened by the years but never lost. Orange Wine belongs to the latter.

From its opening lines, the novel introduces us to Inés, a woman who, while giving birth to her daughter Lucy, unknowingly loses her husband to her sister Isabel. The revelation is devastating yet presented with a quiet, almost fated inevitability—a betrayal not just personal but woven into the very fabric of her life and lineage. There is a matter-of-factness to Inés‘s narrative voice that reminded me so much of listening to my grandparent’s stories around a kitchen table, hearing the most devastating things they experienced as if they weren’t the ones to experience it.

That is to say—Snyder’s storytelling mirrors the way family lore is passed down—not always direct, but full of echoes. Snyder is a poet, and her language is beautiful in a precise and economical way.

Inés’s story is one of survival, not just in the immediate sense of picking up the pieces after Alessandro’s departure but in the way she carries the burdens of those who came before her. Her mother, Aura, a woman who lived for beauty and roses, cultivated a life of refinement but left her daughters unprepared for a world that required more than aesthetic devotion.

This book is for anyone who loves books that unfold like a family secret—one that is painful, but also intoxicating in its telling. This is for those who appreciate narrative as something that unfolds like a folktale—personal yet collective, distant yet deeply felt. This is for readers drawn to the works of Isabel Allende, Elena Ferrante, or Gabriel García Márquez. This is for anyone who has ever listened to an elder tell a story—one where sorrow and survival are spoken of in the same breath, where tragedy is recounted with the simple knowledge that it happened.

I hope that like the scent of citrus on the hands long after peeling an orange, this one stays with you and that with time, Ines’s story burrows into your heart.

This was not my favorite, and I’ve been struggling over why that is. First of all, this book succeeds in creating a vivid atmosphere with lush descriptions of settings, food, and wine. I enjoyed that, and reading a story set in Colombia, which was a first for me.

Here are my thoughts as to why I didn’t click with this much:
- It reads more like a memoir than a novel. It’s all telling and no showing. The narrative is extremely distant despite being in first person. It seems like Inés is just recounting an (extremely bland) story rather than taking us on the journey with her.
- I don’t know how this managed to be so undramatic. The premise is fascinating and rife with drama. The affairs, the sister betrayals, the illegitimate children, all of it. But it just falls flat. I was bored most of the time, and I think Inés’s monotone recounting of everything is the reason for that.
- I also found Inés unlikable. She’s prettier than all of her other sisters—who are all ugly. Every man wants her. She steals one from her sister while she’s already a married woman. Everywhere she goes, she causes mass destruction. I often like complicated characters, and am soft to ones that most people hate. But I didn’t know Inés enough to see past all of this. I still feel like I have absolutely no idea what her personality is, and that goes for all of the other characters as well.
- There were several times that the dialogue seemed to be disjointed with the intensity of the corresponding reaction. The dialogue would be so mild and unbothered, and then suddenly people are smashing things. I saved an examples of this:

“I don’t mind cooking and cleaning. But having to clean up after your parties is getting harder!” I grabbed a wineglass and smashed it against the chimney.

- I was shocked by her anger because leading up to that scene, that’s not how I was interpreting her tone. There is just a disconnect with emotional cues here in a way I haven’t seen in other novels.
- There is no sisterhood. At all. They all hate each other. And don’t forget, they are all much uglier than Inés.
- I don’t know how Inés’s husband running away with her sister Isabelle could’ve been less dramatic. That was the premise that initially drew me into reading this book, and it was such a letdown. Everything about it seemed so inconsequential, and me not being connected to the characters at all didn’t help that.
- With Inés’s child’s death, we were informed that she cried for months, but again, it prompted no emotional reaction because we weren’t really with Inés at all. Child deaths are usually emotional for me, and this one wasn’t at all.

There were several feminist quotes that I appreciated:
“I am angry at God for making me a woman and at the world for deciding my fate.”

“God’s punishment to women, I concluded, was not the torment of pregnancy and childbirth, but coupling these with the intellectual ability to question and to wonder.”

I received a free ARC of this book from the publisher. All thoughts are my own. This was unfortunately a miss for me, but I appreciate the chance to read it.

The writing in this story flows so beautifully. There are heaps of nuance and prose, which will come down to personal opinion, but I found it beautiful.

The story itself was the wildest, gentle ride. So much happened yet Ines told her story so calmly, like a grandmother telling a soothing bedtime tale. I did love that it highlighted the complexity of family dynamics, especially sisterhood and jealousy. The almost supernatural elements with visions initially threw me off, but I eventually learned it was part of Ines’s culture and began to understand it.
It was a bit slow to get into but eventually picks up pace as the plot unfolds. Several beautiful lines will stay with me from 'Orange Wine". My favorite is:

“God’s punishment to women, I concluded, was not the torment of pregnancy and childbirth, but coupling these with the intellectual ability to question and to wonder. Eve’s real punishment, I thought, was to be blessed with an inquisitive mind trapped in a body that would strive to perpetuate itself regardless of the pain or the consequences.”

I give it a personal rating of three out of five stars.
I tend to read the same contemporary, white-woman romances. This story was so refreshing, taking place in (mostly) Colombia with main characters from totally different cultures than I have ever had the opportunity to glimpse. Orange Wine helped me toward my personal goal of reading more diversely. I am happy to have gained a new perspective.

Thank you to NetGalley for the opportunity to read and review "Orange Wine', broadening my horizons.

Thank you Bindery Books and NetGalley for this ARC.

Oh Orange Wine.... the book that you are. This was absolutely incredible, the writing was lovely and the storytelling was dark and emotional. Other than this ARC I have never read a book by this author and I will absolutely be seeking out more. Wonderful.

Thank you to Bindery Books and NetGalley for an advanced reader copy.

This book was fascinating, frustrating, and fruitful all at the same time. Esperanza writes beautifully and simplistically, the same way she has a character describe art in the book. “The importance of simplicity in art.”

I will state that the first 100 pages or so were incredibly frustrating as Alessandro is just a living, breathing red flag. It very much mirrored the “bitter” taste of orange wine. I could not, or maybe would not, understand some of the decisions Ines made, but truly those decisions did reflect human nature.

I also struggled with Ines quite a bit. As stated earlier, the author is a talented and has such beautiful prose. But I didn’t believe the feelings or emotions coming from Ines. It felt like we the reader were kept at arm’s length from her as a character. Maybe that was deliberate. I felt what the author said, but I didn’t feel Ines felt it. Her actions just didn’t reflect what she said or thought.

As much as we watched Ines struggle with decision, loss, sorrow, I do think we deserved to see more of her wins and triumphs. We hear about her art in galleries in Paris (which she never sees in the book), and she is selling soaps that sell out. But we didn’t stay with that for too long. It felt like it was cut short. I would have loved more of that.

Lastly, sisterhood was mentioned in the synopsis. However, there was none. In fact, I would call it the opposite of sisterhood. She incredibly suffered because of her sisters (minus Chata), and she seemed almost indifferent to them at times. I don’t think sisterhood is accurate.

Overall, I enjoyed this. The writing was beautiful, the struggles of just being born a woman, and basically being punished for that was poignant. The act of betrayal and overcoming loss, grief, and society was written frustratingly well. Ines deserved more of her triumphs to shine through though. Maybe reading this book, others will have the first bitter taste and have the same hopeful ending in the end. Just like Ines.

I liked this one a lot! The pacing was very good and it was very beautifully written, I read it in a day. It was shorter than I am used to in a novel, but the points get across. The book is character driven through the eyes of the MC, and while I loved diving into the different relationships - romantic and otherwise - the POV left it feeling a little one-sided.
Overall it was a solid read, one I will certainly recommend, and I look forward to diving into more books from this publisher!
Thanks again to Netgalley and Bindery/Mareas for the eARC!

Trigger warnings for death of a child, spousal abuse, infidelity

The writing in this book is so very good. I was instantly absorbed and read through the whole book in one setting … but, unfortunately I enjoy the writing more than the story.

In the author’s acknowledgements she mentions that this story is based off of her grandparents and, I think, that’s part of the problem I had with this book. The author, I think, was too respectful of the source inspiration to make Inés a character in her own right. Inés,as the narrator of this book, has a pleasant, monotone voice. Everything said is in a soothing, even manner with little to no reaction to anything. Finding out her husband left her, the death of her son, the smell of a bar of soap, her sister’s reaction to her relationship with a married man, seeing a painting, buying shoes, it’s all told with the same indifferent lyricism. Again, it’s beautifully written, but it’s also … kind of bland.

During the early days of her relationship with Regulo, the married man she is having an affair with, he complains that she is mysterious, that she keeps too much of herself from him and — for me — that’s how this book felt. Like I was being kept at arm’s length while Inez told the story of her life; and for the most part, I’m fine with that. The author has a gift for writing but … like Regulo, I wanted to get just a little closer, to see Inés as a character with a personality rather than someone politely telling me the story of her life. While it’s a lot of telling, something that might not work in every books, it did work here. I just wish Inés had had any emotion, any reaction to anything.

Inés has always known that she’s beautiful, and it’s made her vain, complacent, entitled, and indifferent to the opinions of others. She is a leaf floating down a stream with no thought for the rocks in the way, confident she will make her way past them. And, she does.

And it’s irksome because the life she leads is a fascinating one. Abandoned by her husband who leaves her for her own sister, left with two children, one of them an infant, she is forced to sell her home and impose on her sister — who wants nothing to do with her or her children, and forgives Inés’s sister more readily than Inés — she finds herself meeting, falling for, and moving in with her destined true love … while being married, Catholic, and in a very Catholic town. Their romance is scandalous, but you’d never know it from the placid way Inés recounts every scene no matter what’s happening.

The blurb mentions sisterhood as one of the facts of Inés’s story, but I’m afraid I don’t see it at all. At least, not in the book. While Inés says in a very offhand way that she loves her sisters, there’s no sign of that anywhere in the book save for a vague relationship with her sister Chata through letters. Of the others, there’s no indication that there’s anything but dislike and indifference on their part, and indifference on hers.

The main focus is the romance between Inés and Regulo through all the difficulties of their affair, the coming together and the parting, the long talks and business ventures. And I’d like to have been more interested in it, but it’s all just so mild, unconcerned and complacent, and because it’s so well written, I was even more frustrated. Like Inés I was carried along through her life by the author’s beautiful writing. I just wish I’d enjoyed the journey more.

I look forward to future books from this author. Thank you so very much to Net Galley and the punisher for the ARC.