Blog — Latinx in Publishing

Roxanna Cardenas Colmenares

Book Review: 'Libertad' by Bessie Flores Zaldívar

The first time I heard about Honduras was in elementary school. Our class had to talk about different Latin American countries, and I was assigned Honduras. I recall making the white and dark blue flag and its stars with glossy paper, yet what I remember the most is the one fact I read in an article during my research: “Honduras is one of the most dangerous countries in Central America.” For years, the memory lingered in my easily impressionable brain, creating a separation between my country, Venezuela, and la república bananera. I grew up believing the two had nothing in common, like two planets in different galaxies. However, the space between them shortened after I read Libertad, by Bessie Flores Zaldívar, where I was introduced to a fictional family of hondureños trying to survive their country’s government in 2017, the same year my family and I left Venezuela, escaping ours. 

Readers see the novel’s world through the observant eyes of Libertad Morazán. She is a 17-year-old girl who lives with her mom, grandmother, and two brothers during the civil manifestations in her country. Libertad is about to graduate from high school and deals with the stress that represents, but that is not the only milestone our character must face. She struggles with her sexuality, her role in her family dynamics, and her art, which takes the form of poetry. Libi—as those close to her call her—finds an outlet for her frustration with the political situation in Honduras by writing and anonymously posting poems about it, taking a clear political stance that rejects the current government. Although a work of fiction, the book portrays the reality of this country seven years ago, when the pueblo wanted the opposition to win their country back. Still, the authoritarian government wouldn’t give up power—a tale that certainly felt familiar to this reader. 

Flores Zaldívar’s richly descriptive craft oozes through Libertad’s narration of events, sensations, and settings. While reading their words, it was impossible not to feel the heat inside buses and cars that lack air conditioning—like in most cases back home—or perfectly picture the intricate scenarios Libertad, her family, and friends dealt with during the tense election year.  Similarly, the feelings of guilt so familiar to closeted queers were almost palpable, and I would cry next to Libi when she realized her mom wouldn’t accept her sexuality. But I would cry just as hard whenever her big brother, Maynor, showed unconditional support regardless of whom she loved. The author’s ability to place readers within the story—as if we are standing next to the characters when the events unfold—makes it easy to relate to them; thus, laughing with them, crying with them, cheering with them, and mourning with them is an inevitable reaction. 

That said, this novel is not as plot-driven as it is character-driven. Although one could think that the story unfolds around the infamous elections, the true driving force in Libertad is Libertad herself. Like many teenagers transitioning into adulthood, her life is unexpected, exploratory, and seemingly lacking a clear path. Flores Zaldívar’s narrative develops simultaneously with the main character, meaning that the point isn’t to reach a determined event but to witness Libi’s both painful and joyful growth. The author, however, doesn’t leave the secondary characters aside; they become just as important to the reader as they are to Libertad. As an older sister, I found myself wishing for an older brother such as Maynor who would buy me plantain chips—a testimony of Flores Zaldívar’s ability to entrap us with their carefully crafted characters that make the novel feel undeniably human. 

The author’s ability to place readers within the story—as if we are standing next to the characters when the events unfold—makes it easy to relate to them; thus, laughing with them, crying with them, cheering with them, and mourning with them is an inevitable reaction. 

It is because of how human Libertad is that I could not help but relate to Libi. The homophobia, violence, loss, disappointment, family love, friendships, and creative outlet she experiences in the novel are almost the same as what I experienced growing up. Suddenly, after finishing this book, Honduras and Venezuela felt like sisters separated at birth, and I was reminded of the common history that unites Latinx people. Flores Zaldívar’s emotionally charged storytelling leaves a long-lasting impact on whoever reads their work, on whoever grew up or knows someone who grew up in Latin America's unforgiving summers, too-often blackouts, warm family dinners, colorful sceneries, and corrupt governments. Libertad is the coming-of-age story of a queer artist, yet it is also a reminder of what unites our community. I still picture the phrase on Maynor’s t-shirt: Solo el pueblo salva al pueblo—and I know I will for a long time.  


Roxanna Cardenas Colmenares is a Venezuelan writer living in New York City who loves to consume, study, and create art. She explores multiple genres in her writing, with a special interest in horror and sci-fi, while working on her B.A. in English with a Creative Writing concentration. 

Her work has made her a two-time recipient of the James Tolan Student Writing Award for her critical essays analyzing movies. She has also won The Henry Roth Award in Fiction, The Esther Unger Poetry Prize, and The Allan Danzig Memorial Award in Victorian Literature.

In her free time, she likes to watch movies, dance, and draw doodles that she hopes to be brave enough to share one day.

Book Review: 'There Is a Rio Grande in Heaven’ by Ruben Reyes Jr.

People who often speak against sci-fi, magical realism, or any fiction pieces argue that they prefer more realistic content. Although many works of this genre fail to make a connection between fantasy and reality, quality fiction shows through its fantastic scenarios aspects about humanity that are often too dark to face as pure realism. Fiction readers like me know this and never fail to find the realistic commentary hidden in spaceships, aliens, or robots. As a fan of the genre, reading Ruben Reyes Jr.'s debut, There Is a Rio Grande in Heaven, was exhilarating. Reyes creates a collection of stories where the rules of each world differ; however, they connect in their devastating outcomes. More importantly, the author draws the challengingly blurry line between fantasy and reality with effortless caution, making readers question the difference between the two—if any. 

Reyes showcases his peculiar storytelling abilities in twelve stories (some short fiction and some flash fiction). He creates a narrative from perspectives rarely seen in science fiction. Queerness, Latinx culture, and Central American history are displayed in his stories, and readers don’t need to belong to said communities to understand them. They must, however, be aware of them—and have respect for them. He expects us to be clever enough to grasp what’s being told behind the imaginative aspect of his work, limiting his exposition and committing to the weirdness of his stories. The flash fiction pieces set the tone, where readers get settled in alternate realities from a well-known history. Then, in the longer stories, the speculative details are so carefully curated that one could easily forget they are not real. The imagination is engrained in the issues Reyes so well displays in his work, leaving us with a bitter taste in our mouths after each chapter—and if you are anything like me, with a few tears in your eyes.

[Reyes Jr.] creates a narrative from perspectives rarely seen in science fiction. Queerness, Latinx culture, and Central American history are displayed in his stories, and readers don’t need to belong to said communities to understand them. They must, however, be aware of them—and have respect for them.

One story is about grieving someone even before their death, where a son deals with the loss of his homophobic father and tries to form a new one who could love him for who he is. Another one builds a world where US Citizens are treated similarly to the immigrants trying to reach the border, but this time Americans try to reach Mars, facing violent repercussions if discovered. In both pieces, the author uses sci-fi elements to speak about truths about humanity and the ways we treat each other. Furthermore, Reyes does what at least I have never witnessed in Latinx literature: point at the ways the community hurts itself. Whether it is inside our home countries or as immigrants, we natives of the other two Americas tend to take advantage of our neighbors. Some stories in Reyes's work emphasize this issue. From a Latinx-owned company based in the US that underpays its employees to an exploited magical mango tree, Reyes tells disturbing facets of our community that are often ignored. 

I found myself unable to put the book down. I remember telling my husband after each chapter, “That was devastating. I need to keep reading.” And I often came back to sections that I particularly loved. Especially its last chapter, where Reyes gives readers the chance to create their own immigration story, which I found insanely creative and fun—and frustrating whenever I took the wrong turn. With all that said, I am certain this book is not only meant for speculative fiction readers. It is for anyone ready to face wounding immigrant realities through richly imaginative worlds. And for anyone ready to question how similar real life is to our deepest nightmares. 


Roxanna Cardenas Colmenares is a Venezuelan writer living in New York City who loves to consume, study, and create art. She explores multiple genres in her writing, with a special interest in horror and sci-fi, while working on her B.A. in English with a Creative Writing concentration. 

Her work has made her a two-time recipient of the James Tolan Student Writing Award for her critical essays analyzing movies. She has also won The Henry Roth Award in Fiction, The Esther Unger Poetry Prize, and The Allan Danzig Memorial Award in Victorian Literature.

In her free time, she likes to watch movies, dance, and draw doodles that she hopes to be brave enough to share one day.