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 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.

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.