Alone and adrift in Barcelona, an unnamed narrator is haunted by the death of her teenage brother, Diego. Diego, the little boy she helped raise in Mexico while their mother struggled to make a living in Spain. Diego, who loved Vampire Weekend and dreamed of becoming a pilot. Diego, who hated Madrid as much as she did.FINALIST FOR THE 2026 KIRKUS PRIZE FOR FICTION A rising star of Latin American literature has written a novel that refuses to reduce grief to a scheduled tour through ennobling sorrows. Brenda Navarro dispenses with fairy tales about acceptance and considers mourning as a kind of backbreaking labor, like childcare or housecleaning. Unlike peddlers of platitudes, Navarro is a major talent who knows that the most important stages of grief are ambivalence and guilt. Extraordinary. Avoiding melodrama, Navarro writes in a matter-of-fact tone, using short, clipped sentences suited to the wretchedness of her subject. This is a book that treats its characters and incidents seriously andat its bestruthlessly. Navarros exploration of grief is deft and raw.... The prose, in translation by Megan McDowell, is visceral and exploratory, the narrator exhibiting an almost childlike fascination with her subject. Empathetic, almost humanist intent ...Brenda Navarros second novel, Sliding back and forth between the past and the present, Raw, ingenious, and addictive. [A] masterpiece. This lovingly written story centers on an unnamed narrator traveling from Spain to her home in Mexico to deliver her brothers ashes. Introspective and reflective, Brenda Navarro, one of Mexicos most brilliant new writers, Navarro confronts the intimate and systemic struggles that migrants face and asks what it means to live a life worth living in this novel about alienation and courage. In?this commentary on memory and migration, Navarro also plumbs the depths of grief with visceral intensity. In Navarros capable hands, While Navarro is broadly interested in themes of immigratlSS