A Best book of 2023
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“At once heartbreaking and unapologetically strange, this is a cross-cultural, syncretic, folksy, razor-sharp narrative about the horrors of grief and the eternal debate over nature versus nurture. . . . Monstrilio packs in a lot, and the author pulls it off brilliantly. It is at once dark and tender, at times bleak, but balanced with humor that borders on slapstick . . . an outstanding debut; for all the ground being broken in genre-bending horror, his is a distinctive, exciting new voice in fiction.” —Gabino Iglesias, Los Angeles Times
“Bizarre and brilliant, Gerardo Sámano Córdova’s Monstrilio is a sort of modern Frankenstein.” —Lauren Puckett-Pope, ELLE
“How to explain my love of this bizarre book? It is grotesque, heavy, gut-wrenching, and painful and I still loved it . . . There is a lot in this story to unpack around death, self-acceptance, unconditional love, and challenging social norms.” —Cheri Anderson, Boston Globe
“In his masterful and surreal debut novel, Mexican author Gerardo Sámano Córdova revels in the mire of grief, then lifts the veil and gets playful with it, like the Brothers Grimm ghostwriting Stephen King . . . Monstrilio is full of surprises and delightfully messed up—at once precise and inscrutable and horrifying.” —Patrick Rapa, The Philadelphia Inquirer
“This book is a slow-burning monster story incrementally creeping up on the unsuspecting reader . . . [and] a creative study on the process of mourning and the lengths people will extend themselves in order to preserve a loved one's spirit, presence, and essence.” —Jim Piechota, Bay Area Reporter
“An extraordinary act of imagination, an extended meditation that begins in grief, family, belonging, and moves past that, into a deeper discovery of the power of love—and the powerlessness of love, as well its strangeness. With Monstrilio, Sámano Córdova makes a remarkable, kaleidoscopic debut.” —Alexander Chee, author of How to Write an Autobiographical Novel
“Simply exquisite. Easily one of my favorite reads this year.” —Sarah Gailey, bestselling author of Just Like Home and The Echo Wife
“Gerardo Sámano Córdova’s dark, soulful magic puts me in mind of Kelly Link or Carmen Maria Machado (and further back, Mary Shelley). The horror of grief has rarely been so viscerally or movingly evoked.” —Peter Ho Davies, author of A Lie Someone Told You About Yourself
“Haunting and often bleakly humorous, Gerardo Sámano Córdova’s Monstrilio is a captivating tone poem of trauma, grief, and transformation. Córdova writes with the lyrical precision of a master surrealist and creates an uncompromising vision of literary horror that is so wholly unique and utterly his own.” —Eric LaRocca, author of Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke and Other Misfortunes
“Heartfelt, bizarre, and unexpected, Sámano Córdova’s Monstrilio, which tells the story of a grieving mother who ends up raising a creature that grew from a chunk of her dead son’s lung as her child, is unlike anything else in contemporary horror. At once a novel about family and love, a creepy tale that questions what it means to be human, and a celebration of queer stories, Monstrilio is as shocking as it is profound, and as humorous as it is thoughtful. With any luck, this novel, which is rich in cultural context and ideas, will catapult its author straight into the radars of not only horror lovers but also all readers who enjoy great writing.” —Gabino Iglesias, The Boston Globe
“In Gerardo Sámano Córdova’s spare, soulful, and singular Monstrilio, a mother’s grief turns monstrous, literally taking on a life of its own. As tender and terrifying as its titular character, Monstrilio is just as likely to work its way into your heart as into your nightmares. Prepare to unhinge your jaw and devour it whole.” —Maria Adelmann, author of Girls of a Certain Age and How to be Eaten
“Monstrilio is the monster story about grief I've been craving. Bloody and full of longing, it gets under your skin and doesn’t let you go. A thrilling and heartbreaking ride from Mexico City to NYC to Berlin, brilliantly capturing what it means to lose someone you love with ferocious tenderness. Gerardo Sámano Córdova is an international revelation and one of the boldest new voices writing today.” —Akil Kumarasamy, author of Meet Us by the Roaring Sea and Half Gods
“Monstrilio is unlike any other book I’ve read. Genuinely scary at times, it moved me with its humanity, made me laugh, and ultimately, made me cry. Gerardo Sámano Córdova has written a stunning exploration of grief, belonging, and familial love in prose so beautiful you won’t want to rush through it—even as you need to know what happens next.” —Ana Reyes, author of The House in the Pines
“Part of a new wave of haunted house horror that continues to expand and redefine the genre, Monstrilio is about a woman who creates a monster from a piece of her dead son’s lung, feeding it bloody sacrifices as it grows into the image of her long-gone child. Her monstrilio is loved, cared for, and wholly monstrous. But are not the monsters among us also capable (and deserving) of love? Read this if you liked Sarah Gailey’s Just Like Home!” —Molly Odintz, Lit Hub
“What lengths would you go to get back someone you’ve loved and lost? Just for a bit, to look in their eyes one more time, or tell them what needed to be told? But play that possibility out to its inevitable conclusion and it’s difficult to envision anything good coming from it. In Córdova’s horror debut, a grieving mother in Mexico City goes to unimaginable extremes to bring her late 11-year-old son back to life, only to discover that there are worse things than death. Grief, she learns, is not something to be trifled with, or worse, avoided.” —Il’ja Rákoš, The Millions
“Sámano Córdova’s work is as devastating as its premise is whimsical.” —Carl Lavigne, Ploughshares
“Gerardo Sámano Córdova is hitting the ground running with his debut novel. . . . Stunning and horrifying.” —Bob Pastorella, This is Horror
“Sámano Córdova’s writing is piercing and intimate. Whether describing Monstrilio’s first, vicious moments of life or the subtle, strained romance between Magos and her childhood friend Lena, Sámano Córdova keeps readers breathless . . . his novel seeks to embody [grief], making this nameless, eternal pain something we can speak to and hold.” —Eric Ponce, Book Page, starred review
“Gerardo writes with the potency of a master, painting an image that takes feelings of genuine sadness and morphs it into a very disturbing situation. I read those first few pages with watery eyes and a grimace on my face, and from that moment on, I couldn’t put the book down. This genre-bender takes an incredibly sad tale of loss and grief and coats it in surrealism and horror, and the result is one of the most original and fascinating novels you’ll read this year. . . . An amazing read. Don’t miss it.” —Akram Herrak, Independent Book Review, starred review
“Sámano Córdova’s prose is beautiful . . . He captures the heartbreak in aching detail, and the strangeness of the tale only adds to the power of emotions here. He also does a fantastic job of using setting to support the story without overpowering. Bloody and tender, Monstrilio is a singular novel, elevating both horror and family drama into something universal and unforgettable.” —Sarah Rachel Egelman, Bookreporter
“In this wicked debut novel, Sámano Córdova combines queer themes touching on identity, kink, and consent with Latin American mysticism for an unusually visceral coming-of-age tale . . . There’s no doubt there’s nothing quite like it. A Promethean fable about reconstruction, reinvention, and the occasional human-sized snack.” —Kirkus Reviews
“Grief takes the shape of a monster in Sámano Córdova’s disturbing yet touching literary horror debut . . . Sámano Córdova creates complex characters who make difficult decisions that blur the lines between being human and being a monster. Fans of Eric LaRocca, Agustina Bazterrica, and Carmen Maria Machado will appreciate this unique take on the horror genre.” —Verónica N. Rodríguez, Booklist
“Córdova asks the reader to consider the limits of familial love and understanding. He provides no easy answers, and readers may find themselves touched and horrified in equal measure . . . An enthralling debut that packs a heavy emotional punch. Fans of domestic horror like Zoje Stage’s Baby Teeth or Ashley Audrain’s The Push will find a lot to chew on here." —Colin Chappell, Library Journal
“The beastliness of grief is heartbreakingly rendered in Córdova’s folklore-inflected first novel, which follows a bereaved mother taking the lung of her recently deceased son and nurturing it back into the boy she lost. But death can never be totally thwarted, and the son that returns isn’t quite the same.” —Michelle Hart, Electric Lit
“In this imaginative debut, one mother is going to discover the limits to maternal love—but not before lots of terrible stuff happens . . . Raising a piece of a corpse to love as your own child sounds like a good idea, right? Spoiler: No, no it does not.” —Liberty Hardy, Book Riot
“Gerardo Sámano Córdova’s novel Monstrilio is a surreal and haunting debut, a book I could not put down that exquisitely explores themes of love and grief.” —Largehearted Boy
“Sly and unsettling . . . Sámano Córdova does a good job elucidating the contours of grief and love. This creepy work of psychological horror gives readers plenty to chew on.” —Publishers Weekly
“Gerardo Sámano Córdova pens a creative, visionary, and fantastic examination of grief and love; parents and children; friends and lovers. Once you start the book, you won’t be able to un-read it. Unforgettable is the most perfect word here.” —Barnes & Noble Editors, Most Anticipated Book Releases of March 2023
“A debut novel like no other . . . This beautiful (yes, I said 'beautiful') novel will be the most talked about Horror book of the season.” —Jules Herbert, B&N Reads
“A literary horror tale that trudges through the gruesome, visceral parts of grief nobody likes talking about. With othering queerness at its core, Monstrilio won't hurt you, but will absolutely knock you around a bit. You've read nothing like it.” —Stacy Wayne D., Powell’s
“Queer author Gerardo Sámano Córdova is having a moment. The University of Michigan grad’s debut horror novel, Monstrilio, out now, is the talk of the literary community.” —Sarah Bricker Hunt, Pride Source
“Gerardo Sámano Córdova dives head-first into a complex blend of conventional literary fiction and disquieting horror . . . The book’s departures from realism only enhance this message of healing and introspection, giving the novel an insightful and deeply human quality. Stylistically, Monstrilio shines. An intimate stream-of-consciousness writing style places the reader directly in the mind of the narrator, yet the prose’s depth and beauty keeps the book a page-turner . . . Monstrilio is a wild ride that questions the limits of love, family, and what it means to be human.” —Aiden J. Bowers, The Harvard Crimson
“For readers with a soft spot for unconventional monster fiction, Gerardo Sámano Córdova’s debut novel Monstrilio is packed with metaphor and nuanced layers of horror and humanity. The novel draws the reader into the raw, intimate spaces of mourning and creates something distinctly original as the story effortlessly blends speculative horror with grief, sexuality, and what it means to be human . . . Córdova masterfully blends the elements of literary horror and folklore to create something distinctly modern and unique.” —Corrine Watson, f(r)iction
“An outstanding novel that . . . brings to the forefront elements of grief, loss, love, and loneliness. These elements, without compromise, are real and the most raw of human emotions. These emotions are easily explorable, just as they are. This read was a fresh take on horror . . . one that I had never seen before.” —Mark Haskell, The Gatepost
“Gerardo Sámano Córdova’s debut literary horror mix seems plucked straight out of a Guillermo del Toro film . . . a deeply wrought narrative that tackles grief with prose that is as beautiful as it is delightfully gory.” —Brigid Flanagan, The Observer
01/16/2023
A monster takes the place of a dead child in Mexican writer Sámano Córdova’s sly and unsettling debut. Santiago, 11, dies from an unspecified illness while convalescing in Upstate New York. “Her son was alive, and now he isn’t. How dull,” the author writes of Magos, the mother, who feels robbed of a sense of drama: she’d previously imagined Santiago dying in her arms in a crowded mall as she became “a Pietá.” She keeps a piece of his lung in a jar as a memento mori, and when they return to Mexico City, the family’s housekeeper tells Magos a story about a woman who kept and fed a young child’s heart and another child grew in its place. Magos then spoons some broth into the jar, and by the following morning, the lung has begun growing. Magos keeps feeding the lung until it breaks out of the jar, then bites off part of her thumb. Eventually, the lung grows to be the size of a child, and Magos names him Monstrilio. Her husband gets Monstrilio a cat tower for him to perch on, though their creation proves less domesticated than they’d hoped. While the prose is a bit flat, Sámano Córdova does a good job elucidating the contours of grief and love. This creepy work of psychological horror gives readers plenty to chew on. (Mar.)
02/01/2023
DEBUT The novel opens just moments after a young couple has lost their only son Santiago, his small body folded between them in his tiny bed. In an act of grief or love or desperation, Magos, the boy's mother, carves out a piece of his lung, places it in a jar, and begins to feed it. This being a horror novel, of course, this doesn't go well, and eventually the hungers and desires and thingness of what results must be reckoned with. How Magos and her husband Joseph reckon with monstrilio provides the emotional thrust of the story, which is told from four perspectives across the urban landscapes of Brooklyn, Berlin, and Mexico City. Córdova asks the reader to consider the limits of familial love and understanding. He provides no easy answers, and readers may find themselves touched and horrified in equal measure. VERDICT An enthralling debut that packs a heavy emotional punch. Fans of domestic horror like Zoje Stage's Baby Teeth or Ashley Audrain's The Push will find a lot to chew on here.—Colin Chappell
2022-12-24
A mother despondent over the death of her son employs a bloody dose of magical realism to bring him back to life.
In this wicked debut novel, Sámano Córdova combines queer themes touching on identity, kink, and consent with Latin American mysticism for an unusually visceral coming-of-age tale. In New York, an 11-year-old Mexican boy named Santiago dies, leaving his mother, Magos, and father, Joseph, in terrible grief. Magos defiantly carves a piece of her son’s lung from his body, returning with it to Mexico City. As in a folktale, Magos’ guardianship of her bloody talisman breathes new life into it, resulting in a hungry rat-thing that eventually grows into a doppelgänger for her son she names Monstrilio, or M, complete with fangs, claws, fur, and a mysterious vestigial limb. It’s a true grotesquerie on the surface, although the body horrors and violent trespasses to come are primarily springboards to explore the inner lives of these characters—Magos; her best friend, Lena; Joseph; and finally young and ravenous M himself—and their transformations in the face of love and loss. Magos, resolutely determined to keep her monster alive, is enabled by Lena, one of Mexico’s youngest surgeons, whose emotional blinders, medical ethics, and rationalizations blind her to M’s true nature. Back in New York two years after his divorce, Joseph has found love with Peter, a financial analyst who believes M is merely Joe’s son from an earlier marriage. As Joseph and Peter plan their wedding and Magos throws herself into a career as a celebrated performance artist, M is growing into a young man, complete with not only the turmoil and tension that coming-of-age brings, but a growing realization about his own ferocious, ravenous nature. As his sexual conquests and appetite evolve, self-realization turns to self-fulfillment. Deciding who to root for in this Kafkaesque myth may prove perplexing for readers, but there’s no doubt there’s nothing quite like it.
A Promethean fable about reconstruction, reinvention, and the occasional human-sized snack.
