My Documents

Starred review from December 22, 2014
The title story in Zambra’s (Ways of Going Home) story collection establishes a casual, conversational, self-aware tone: the narrator recalls not informing his parents when he becomes an altar boy, nor telling the priest that he hasn’t gone to confession. In the story, lying doesn’t catch up with this boy so much as isolates him, a common condition among Zambra protagonists, while his mother’s music—the Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel, Chilean easy listening—plays in the background. “Camilo” traces the friendship between two boys, uncovering how their fathers’ friendship ended years before on a soccer field. Soccer is also central to “Thank You,” where Mexico City kidnappers spare the lives of two tourists in honor of Chilean-born Monterrey player Chupete Suazo. The kidnappers’ dialogue (an obscene rant followed by sports analysis) exemplifies Zambra’s humor, and the story’s ending reverberates with his melancholy. Cats play prominent roles in two tales, both about feckless caretakers: a divorced father adopts what he thinks is a male cat until it has kittens; a slacker’s four-month house-sitting stint for his cousin is complicated by a runaway cat. Funny, sad, sometimes rambling and sometimes exact, Zambra’s stories convey with striking honesty what it’s like to be Chilean today: adrift and confused, uncertain of institutions, relationships, or the future.

December 15, 2014
Eleven quirky tales from the Chilean novelist (Ways of Going Home, 2013, etc.), powered by people's fear of relationships and the strange ways we project our urge for connection onto others. Twice in this collection a character clings to a computer for warmth, an act that symbolizes the alienation the inhabitants of Zambra's world feel and his curious take on those feelings. "Memories of a Personal Computer" tracks the history of one machine from its purchase in 2000 to its banishment years later; in between, Zambra exposes just how much the machine draws together and separates the owner's family, wryly depicting it as quasi-human ("the computer's conduct was, during this period, exemplary"). Similarly, "Family Life" follows a man who's taken a catsitting gig after hitting the skids; searching for the cat, he begins a flirtation with a local woman, prompting him to extend his bumbling playacting at domesticity. Zambra is particularly interested in the childhood roots of his characters' harmless but unusual behavior: In the title story, an altar boy is guilt-stricken after caressing another boy; in "Camilo," the arrival of the godson of the narrator's father throws off the household's rhythms; and the school kids in "National Institute," who are terrified of their domineering teachers, are at first so dehumanized that the narrator refers to his classmates as numbers. Though the subjects throughout are serious, Zambra has a light touch; former dictator Augusto Pinochet is referred to numerous times but more as a generational marker than as political shading. At times, Zambra's cleverness gets the better of him, as in "I Smoked Very Well," an offbeat quitter's diary, but the concluding "Artist's Rendition," about a crime writer rushing to finish a story, artfully shows the transformation of difficult fact into resonant art. Winningly arch and unusual takes on common household predicaments.

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February 15, 2015
Zambra fans will rejoice in his latest collection, which may shock but will never disappoint. Zambra continues to portray in his writing the depth of feeling that humans bring forth in each other. The shortest of four parts gives a wonderful picture of boyhood, Chilean style. One of the funniest stories features a boy who achieves his desire for prominence in local church ceremonies with true innovation. He suffers very few recriminationsmostly when he thinks he may get caught. The power of friendship enlightens many of the stories. In Camilo, a young man who longs for his exiled father becomes friend and comrade to his father's best friend. Several of the stories feature writers who aim at literary glory, with little ability and less success. Anyone who has given up nicotine will identify with I Smoked Very Well. The saddest of the stories, Artist's Rendition, demonstrates how family abuse and secrets can ruin one's life. Zambra's impeccable style and knowledge of humanity are central to these 11 stories.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2015, American Library Association.)