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As someone who enjoys true crime, especially podcasts like crime junkie, I found Ricardo Piglia’s Money to Burn surprisingly interesting. The novel doesn’t just tell a crime story, it pieces it together in a way that feels a lot like listening to a true crime episode where the details slowly unfold.

The book is based on a real bank robbery that happened in Argentina in the 1960s. A group of criminals steal a huge amount of money and escape, but things don’t go according to plan. Instead of quietly disappearing, they end up hiding out in Uruguay while police close in on them. What follows is a tense standoff that turns the criminals into a kind of media spectacle.

What stood out to me most is the way Piglia tells the story. Rather than giving a straightforward narrative, the book feels like a collection of fragments like bits of testimony, rumors, police reports, and different perspectives. As a reader, you have to piece everything together yourself. It reminded me a lot of the storytelling style in true crime media, where each new detail changes the way you understand the case.

If you’ve ever listened to Crime junkie (if you haven’t you should) , you know that part of the interest is slowly uncovering what really happened. The hosts build the story step by step, sometimes presenting conflicting details or theories. This book creates a similar feeling. The truth of the crime isn’t always clear, and the narrative leaves room for interpretation.

The characters themselves also add to that sense of complexity. The criminals are not portrayed as simple villains. Instead, Piglia explores their personalities, their relationships, and the strange loyalty between them. Two of the central figures, nicknamed the “Twins,” share an intense bond that drives much of the story. Their connection makes the crime feel less like a simple robbery and more like a tragic chain of events.

Another interesting aspect is how the media and the public react to the situation. As the standoff drags on, the criminals become almost myth-like figures. People follow the story closely, and the line between reality and sensationalism starts to blur.

what did you like about the book?

Dearest gentle reader… (sorry I was watching Bridgerton today)

Honestly I quite enjoyed this book, the way it is written, I am a little biased that it is the story of a woman written by a woman but nevertheless in this book I noticed a lot of attention to the little physical details, like the locations, the features and the clothing. For instance how she mentions her gold pair of heels that she still keeps because they marked a before and after in growing up and becoming a “woman”, they honestly become symbolic. I just understand the value items hold not only in the physical form but also in memories, there’s so many important dates or moments i remember vividly, and somehow I always know what I was wearing, it’s a way of tying a memory to a physical object that often holds emotional value

Don’t get me started with her relationship with her mother it’s the constant love and hate relationship that just leaves you feeling disappointed and empty at the end of the day, because even though she wanted what was better for her daughter dare I say wanted to live through her she still managed to crush a child’s dreams and any hopes that the world could be a good place for a woman “I’ve never done anything but wait behind a closed door” pg. 25 . Forgetting is probably one of life’s blessings but also a curse, not knowing who you once were may relieve the pain, but it may also make you loose a part of yourself that you don’t even know once existed… leaving an emptiness hard to describe, and a puzzle you may never be able to fully complete.

I see it as a book full of emotions, narrated by a complex mind that was never allowed to develop freely, in a world with prejudice and expected roles. Where a woman’s value rests in what she portrays physically.

Her family’s poverty and dysfunction are what stripped her of her “childhood” long before the lover ever did. She looks at the world with the eyes of a woman who has already seen the worst of people in her own dining room. That’s why she doesn’t flinch when she enters the adult world of sex and money… she’s already survived a much more brutal war at home. She doesn’t just “fall” for the man in the limo, she uses him as a life raft to escape a family that would have eventually drowned her, like they drowned themselves.

Something that caught my attention in the book is the whole uncomfortable dance of power and desire. You may get hung up on the interesting affair, but the book is really a picture of how we use each other to survive. It’s not just a romantic or sexual thing, it’s entirely transactional. She needs the money, he needs to be seen. But what’s fascinating is how the power dynamics keep flipping. In the colonial world of Saigon, she technically has the “power” of being white, but she’s broke and desperate, while he’s wealthy but marginalized by his race. It’s this brutal, claustrophobic loop where love, money, and trauma get so tangled up you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

How about you? have you ever blocked out certain time periods of your life from your ?

See ya next week 🙂

Xoxo

 

 

 

Howdy partner,

Soooo, this book was a little humbling, definitely unlike anything I’ve read before. The best word i have to explain how this book made me feel is almost as if it was gaslighting me. In some way it made me think and read as the protagonist, taking me on this endless search for the ending of a book I wasn’t asked if I wanted to read. I was honestly vibing with the beginning hook of this mysterious atmosphere and then BOOM! It cuts off… a printer error that honestly felt personal, and suddenly I was diving into conspiracies about fake translations and secret societies.

 

This book is written in a way that every time makes you believe that you’ve finally found the “real” book, then they pull the rug under you and it continues with a brand new story that leaves you even confused with the genre. Like how do you go from a spy mystery to a to say the least… interesting japanese drama. I guess it kept me on my toes throughout the reading.

 

I guess the book really made me value endings, the constant human need for a conclusion in everything we read or do. It made me realize how much of an anxious reader I am… usually when I’m reading a book and there is some major development taking more than one page, I skip through a couple pages just to make sure none of my beloved characters died, but this book didn’t allow me to do that which was frustrating but also taught me I should control my anxiety. Overall if felt like a little adventure, with the message behind that at the end of the day books are a way of bringing people together and that sometimes the anticipation of what happens next and that attempt to read a little faster to get to the next page ends up being the beauty of reading, at least in my opinion. 

 

I think I liked the book? (emphasis on the question mark) maybe It taught me some cliche that the ending you want isn’t always the best one or something.

 

Do you guys have reading anxiety too or am I the only one (should probably work on myself )? 

See ya!

XOXO

HELLOOOOOO… So, I finished The Time of the Doves (even tho I was in a whole other country), and honestly, I’m still trying to figure out how a book can be both incredibly simple and emotionally chaotic at the same time. Half the time I felt like I was eavesdropping on someone mumbling to themselves while doing chores, just a constant demonstration of inside thoughts. The other half I was like, “Wait, how did we get here? When did everything fall apart?” It’s a strange reading experience, not necessarily bad, just… not what I’m used to.

One thing that threw off me right away was how fast Natalia loses her identity, and how small she makes herself. Like, she literally introduces herself and Quimet immediately decides that’s not her name anymore: “I said my name was Natalia, he kept laughing and said I could have only one name: Colometa.” (p.18). And she just… goes with it?. That moment set off every alarm bell in my head, but it seemed so acceptable to her.

What I actually found most interesting wasn’t the war or the trauma, it was how lonely the book feels. Even when Natalia is surrounded by people, she’s basically alone in her own head. She doesn’t push back, she doesn’t question anything, she just absorbs whatever happens to her like a sponge, a freaking sponge. It’s frustrating, but also kind of heartbreaking. You can tell she never had the space to figure out who she was before life started making decisions for her.

And the doves… hmmm don’t get me started. I know they’re symbolic and all that, but the way they slowly take over her house felt like a metaphor for everything else in her life: things piling up, taking space, eating her energy, and she just keeps feeding them because what else is she supposed to do? I don’t think she knows she can actually talk back or take a little initiative… and that’s pretty much as much of a people pleaser as you can get. ._.

After you read it… I’m curious how you interpreted Natalia’s passivity. Did you see it as trauma? Social conditioning? Or just her personality?

 

As usual…

See you next week!

xoxo

This week the read was the Black Shack Alley, and it left me feeling heavier than I expected. Not in a dramatic way, more like the realization that settles in after you stop reading. Jose’s story is sad, but what really hurts is the world around him. Everything feels pre-decided, boxed in by systems he never chose.

What stayed with me most is how much love exists in such a harsh environment. M’man Tine isn’t gentle, but her sacrifices are huge. Her discipline, her strictness, even her cruelty at times all come from fear…fear that Jose will be trapped in the same life she’s been forced to live. It’s painful to see how love can become twisted when people are pushed into survival mode by poverty and social structure.

Even when Jose gets access to education, the inequality doesn’t disappear. It just shows up differently. The contrast between him and classmates like Serge makes it clear that school isn’t the great equalizer we like to believe it is. Background still speaks louder than effort. Clothes, confidence, money… quietly separates people, even when they sit in the same classroom.

That’s what makes the book feel so real. We’re always told that education changes destiny, but Black Shack Alley shows how limited that promise can be. Opportunity exists, but it’s uneven, fragile, and often comes with a constant reminder of where you come from.

I didn’t finish the book feeling hopeful or angry, I guess just more aware. Aware of how deeply inequality is built into everyday life, and how hard it is to escape, even when you’re doing everything “the right way”

Ps (don’t answer if you don’t feel comfortable), but have you ever felt like an outsider or treated differently because of the social structures that surround us?

 

See you in two weeks this time…

xoxo

 

So, I’ve been sitting with this book for more hours than I’d like to admit. It’s called Nada which literally means “nothing”, and honestly, that’s exactly what it feels like at first. But Carmen has this way of writing a “quiet” story that somehow sits right in your chest. Since the main character and I are basically the same age, it’s hitting a lot closer to home than I expected.

The story follows a girl named Andrea (fun fact: my mom’s name) who moves to Barcelona for university, full of that “new chapter” energy. But instead of the dream life, she lands in this chaotic, suffocating place.

It’s not “loud” drama; it’s that heavy, awkward tension that lives in the walls of a house and prevents it from ever feeling like a home. You know that feeling when you’re in an elevator not knowing where to look or if you should stay silent…It’s exactly that.

The Mood:

The plot doesn’t rush, and honestly, it doesn’t need to. It zooms in on the things we all feel but rarely talk about:

• The Loneliness: That specific kind of isolation you feel even when people are right next to you.
• The Hunger: Not just for food, but that desire for more out of life.
• The In Between: That weird, shaky stage of trying to figure out who you are while feeling totally lost.

Why It Hits Hard:

Andrea spends a lot of time just observing. She’s the girl in the corner of the room taking it all in, and being in her head makes everything feel so much more intense. You’re right there with her, feeling awkward, out of place, and quietly desperate for a sense of freedom.

The setting itself feels worn down and tired, just like the people. There’s this constant battle between her inner world and a reality that feels a bit too gray.

In the end, it’s a book about surviving emotionally when you don’t really have the tools yet. It’s about realizing who you are by seeing exactly who you don’t want to become. It’s heavy, yeah, but it leaves you feeling a little less alone in your own “nothing” moments.

 

So guys… What makes you feel a little less lonely?

As we know, I’ll come by next week again with a new blog

But for now…

Xoxo 

 

Okay, so “Agostino” isn’t your typical vacation read. Sure, it’s set in Italy during the summer, but it’s way more than just tanning and sand. It kinda takes you on this interesting ride through the mind of a 13 year old kid who’s suddenly hit with the first few harsh realities of the adult world or as I don’t like to call it: “the real world”.

The big turning point is when Agostino realizes his mom is into this other guy. It’s like his wake up call, his reality was challenged by someone. It’s not just about jealousy, it’s like his whole foundation is shaken. He goes from being her little buddy to feeling totally lost and confused.

Then comes the group of older boys. Agostino’s trying so hard to fit in, acting all tough, but you can see he’s just a kid playing dress up, he’s faced with new realities of class differences and sexuality. It’s like he’s searching for something to fill the void left by his mom, but he ends up getting in way over his head, and probably growing up faster than he should’ve.

What really hits you is how quickly Agostino loses his innocence, I guess for everyone there comes a time in life that marks a line of a before and after, the first time we have to “grow up” even though this process is rarely linear . It’s not just one thing; it’s a series of moments that chip away at his naivety. By the end of the summer, he’s not the same kid. He’s seen too much, and he’s forced to confront some pretty uncomfortable truths about himself and the world.

To me this book is a reminder that growing up isn’t always pretty. It’s messy, confusing, and sometimes downright terrible. But it’s also a necessary part of becoming who you are. Because what would we be without our own little questionable experiences?

how about you guys? Do you remember the first moment that pushed you to grow up and stop seeing the world like a perfect little place?

let’s run it back next week!
xoxo