Ratings61
Average rating3.9
Uses horror to talk about wider societal issues. Manages to make gore poetic and strangely beautiful. Centers women's perspectives.
Not particularly scary or grotesque stories like I expected, but they were short and entertaining. My favourite was ‘Where Are You, Dear Heart?' I found it incredibly interesting and something I have never seen or heard of before.
The only complaint I'd have is the extremely descriptive sexual moments that weren't needed and were really weird, especially the description of girls “aged 6 to 12” in No Birthdays or Baptisms, I know that the story called for it but it made me incredibly uncomfortable and I didn't like reading it.
Notes I made while I was reading:
Buenos Aires. Like a slow motion car crash you can't look away from. Meat. Flesh. Surrealism. Lust. Revenge. The horror of teenage girls. Heat. Hunger.
I absolutely adored this collection. If you're a fan of Poppy Z. Brite, you'll love it too.
some creepy stories... all really weird which i like. there are a few that fall flat especially in comparison with the better stories here but thats ok
3.5 ⭐️ I feel like the synopsis gave the vibes of a very different book than we got. It gave big spooky ooky macabre in Argentina. What the book really covers is childhood and sociopolitical issues within Argentina using magic realism (most of which is focused around macabre events but I don't feel like that part was fully explored and remained rather mild in the grand scheme, as if trying to not lose sight of the realism hiding behind the magic. If the spookiness was pushed a little more I don't think the realism would've been lost and I think there could've been a greater depth of content). Once I got the behind the scenes, my understanding/appreciation of the book changed, encouraging me to connect the plots of the story to the real world. As I said, personally it didn't feel as dark and macabre as the synopsis leads one to believe, but also maybe I've just read a lot of weird/dark books so it didn't hit as hard as it may for others! Still overall an interesting book and format of covering tough social topics.
This book has taken the spot from ‘Bunny' by Mona Awad as my most disturbing and disorienting read of the year. It's everything that I did ‘not' expect and nothing that I did. The storytelling is engaging, however, and the only reason why I managed to finish it.
For readers who plan on reading this, I'd advise you to first, read the blurb, understand this is a collection of short stories (and don't end up confused like me in the initial few chapters), check the trigger/content warnings (I wish I had), and finally, expect a lot of your worst nightmares (or a reality that meshes so smoothly into the unnatural, taking turns that you may not have anticipated or expected.)
What a read! Not for the faint hearted, for sure. Please don't read if you are in a dark space mentally, trigger warning.
Mariana Enríquez me tiene embrujada completamente en cada uno de sus relatos de Los peligros de fumar en la cama. Ligeras narraciones que, con tan solo pocas páginas, te embriagan en una atmósfera donde la sangre, los espíritus y lo sobrenatural se hacen más reales de lo que la imaginación puede llegar a imaginar. Buenos Aires como área principal de su desarrollo, desde que tomo mate y escucho a Fito Páez soy cada día un poquito más feliz (y con unas ganas tremendas de recorrer las calles de Corrientes).
‘The dangers of smoking in bed' is among the least conventional collections of short stories I have read in a long time: its macabre setting and horror-like plot always ends up being linked to sociopolitical external agents that characterise society. It is a book that openly blames power and politics for its apocalyptic scenarios and has every reason to do so.
A fantastic short story collection with incredible highs. The lows here are just middling, or slow in an unfun way but not enough to drag this down any further, really just prevents a 5.0.
Si bien me gustó algo más que Las cosas que perdimos en el fuego, sigo sin poder comprender el hype generalizado que está produciendo Enríquez. Evidentemente, hay algo en su estilo que no me llega.
Los cuentos de Los peligros de fumar en la cama no son malos, pero salvo algunas pocas excepciones, lejos estuvieron de causarme horror o pesadillas. Los veo como demasiado explícitos y directos: Enríquez aplica un estilo muy contemporáneo (basado en el mantra “show, don't tell”) al terrror, lo cual en mi opinión modera muchísimo su efecto sobre el lector. Valoro igualmente su incursión en un género inexplorado por la literatura argentina mainstream.