HUMAN SACRIFICES

Terrifying stories lay bare the brutality of patriarchy and the violence it metes out on women and children.

Ecuadorian writer Ampuero begins with “Biography,” a nightmarish story of an undocumented woman who travels to a remote house to meet a man who's offered her money to write his life story. In the next tale, “Believers,” a girl living in the shadow of turbulent protests spies on two missionaries who are renting a room from her family. A sense of claustrophobia dwells in these pages. A few stories in, the reader begins to prepare for the horrible thing (or things) that will inevitably happen. Page after page, women and children are brutalized and raped. Confronted by one monstrous scene after another, the reader becomes almost inured to the collection’s representations of violence. The stories are strongest when they avoid relying on the shock value of human cruelty and experiment with the possibilities afforded by the form of the short story. “Pietà,” for instance, is told in a stream-of-consciousness style from the perspective of a nanny and maid who dotingly watches her charge grow up. The singular point of view and the rapid jumps in time reveal, within the span of a few pages, the tragedy of loving someone who's terrible. In “Sacrifices,” the story unfolds completely in direct dialogue between a husband and wife lost in a parking lot. The lack of visual description—usually the bread and butter of fiction—yields deliciously frightening results.

Stories that rely heavily on depictions of violence but dazzle with formal experimentation.