Thank you to Charco Press for my free copy of Not a River! I’ve read all four of Almada’s novels that have been translated to English so far and her writing never fails to astound me. Props to the various translators of her work, in this case Annie McDermott who wrote a lovely translator’s note about the challenges and joy of translating someone whose work is as alive as Almada’s.

I hadn’t realised this one was sort of in conversation with The Wind That Lays Waste and Brickmakers. They’re a triptych of novels that explore toxic masculinity in rural Argentina. Brickmakers is definitely my fave of the three, but I was impressed with Not a River too. 

I’d recommend setting aside a few hours to read this slim novel all in one sitting if you can. I read the first 40 pages over three days in too-short bursts and it wasn’t until I sat down with the last 60 pages or so that I really appreciated the strength of it, the beauty in the misery and tragedy depicted.

Although the main focus of the novel is on the three male main characters, for me the best sections were those focused on sisters Mariela and Lucy. These passages lent a haunting feel to an already sombre book. 

Almada captures the claustrophobia of a small rural village in Argentina, the days that trickle by lackadaisically in the heat, men with roving eyes, in a stupor with the dust and sun but always on the prowl for young women, and of course the tensions that come to a head when outsiders come in to upset the status quo. 

I’d probably rate it higher had I not dragged out the first half.