14 Works of Mexican Literature Available in English Translation

In this memoir-of-sorts, Barrera describes her “collection” of lighthouses: the buildings she’s visited, researched, read about, and considered. She visits the Montauk Lighthouse after a day stuck in traffic; she talks to the children of lighthouse keepers; she analyzes literary work by Virginia Woolf and Edgar Allan Poe. What do lighthouses stand for, both in history and in our collective consciousness? Barrera digs in, linking her reflections to her fears and loneliness, her experience living in a city, and the way she looks for a guide in the form of a vacillating light across the waves.

Content warnings for mentions of murder, violence, rape, suicide, animal death.

Herbert has written this bizarre, often disturbing collection of short stories about violence, the narco trade, and the ethics of creation, from stolen art to art that exploits or damages other people. By far, the star of the show is the title story, in which a crime-lord named Montaña who looks like Tarantino demands that his henchman go to Los Angeles and bring them back his head. A film critic kidnapped by Montaña reflects on Tarantino’s films and muses on literary and film criticism in a way that’s fascinating, interspersed with action sequences and Montaña’s own stories. Another great story is “Z”, in which a cannibalistic zombie apocalypse is slowly working its way through Mexico City — almost so slow as to be boring.

Content warnings for fatphobia, exploitation, rape, drug use and addiction, murder, necrophilia, cannibalism, racism, anti-Indigenous sentiment, homophobia.

This is a poetic short novel about disappearance, the disappearance of women over the years — the anger paired with avoidance, the fear of looking straight at it, the feeling that it’s contagious, the annoyance at feeling like you’re unable to access something innate about womanhood and female communities, the fear that your masculinity is somehow inherently at risk if you do not defend it. A narrator is visited by the Betrayed — a woman he’s hurt again and again — and by a lost woman who claims to be a famous writer — and both of them grow close, refusing to leave his house. Garza purposefully messes with gender fluidity and identification, and it’s vividly absurd and will spark a lot of thought.

Content warnings for ableism, drugging, suicide, sexism and misogyny, medical mistreatment.

Makina crosses the river from Mexico into the United States in order to find her brother. She grew up in a macho world of masculine power structures and a criminal underworld, which she navigates to get to her sibling, carrying secret messages with her. A surrealist, strange tale, Herrera’s book uses all this liminal space to interrogate issues of immigration, language, translation, all with a heavy dose of otherworldliness that leaves the reader on edge. The book, which won the 2016 BTBA Best Translated Book Award for Fiction, is a fast read, and will leave you feeling thoughtful and slightly disconcerted.

This short novel features Izu, a young woman working to succeed academically and professionally in a male-dominated field of art criticism. She makes waves when she writes a cutting critique of the private collection of a rich older man, who then begins to pursue her hand in marriage. It’s a book about the determined actions and limitations of the patriarchy and those determined to keep it in place. And then you add on Bellatin and Cleary’s Borgesian, meta-textual questions for the reader: Who do we believe? Where does the novel end, and who do we trust to tell us what actually happened?

Content warnings for suicide, terminal illness, mention of pedophilia, blackmail and extortion.

The Witch is a strange figure, a woman who hosts parties at her isolated home, who helps the women of the town when they need abortions, who is enigmatic and refuses their money. When she dies, the town is thrown into a storm of its own darkness. Melchor’s novel is not for the faint of heart. This sharp-edged, jagged story is told in long, running chapters, each one long monologue of sorts, as the characters recount their stories of rage, violence, madness, death, and suffering. No one who participates in this torrent survives unscathed: children are unable to grow up with their innocence, and abuse and fear are rampant. This village has been cursed, in its way, and the Witch’s death jars its stories open for the reader to see.

Content warnings for death, ableism, rape, child neglect and abuse, murder, violence, pedophilia and grooming, homophobia.

A long list of Indigenous languages in Mexico are endangered due to a history of colonialism and a continuing homogeneity of language education. Luckily, language activists are working to change that, and poets writing in these languages are a huge part of the equation. In this collection, poets write in Easten Huasteca Nahuatl, Mazatec, Isthmus Zapotec, Tsotsil, Zoque, and Yucatec Maya. It’s fantastic to bring lesser-known, unique poetic traditions into the spotlight. The book publishes the original on the left and the translated on the right, further supporting the reader’s exposure to languages they may not have even heard of, and provides introductions to each poet that includes information about the featured languages as well.

In this strange satire, Rabasa depicts Villa Miserias, a strange town ruled by the residents’ association in theory, but truly by the sinister and manipulative Selon Perdumes, the founder of Quietism in Motion. It’s a vivid, toxic theory that is essentially individualism and capitalism run rampant — never-ending expansion, false transparency, false stories of equality as the gaps widen. In this paralyzing, surreal, often funny world, where laws border on the absurd and everything is rigged, where law and order are enforced and rebellion harshly (and quietly) punished, a man named Max Michels decides that he’s going to run for president. But he’s going to be the one to finally change the game.

Content warnings for emotional abuse, false accusations, sexual coercion and abuse, rape, animal death, racism, and mentions of eating disorder, overdose, drug addiction.

In this novella, just 70 pages and a single, rushing paragraph, Revueltas provides a scathing critique of the incarceration system. Three men have their loved ones try to smuggle heroin into the prison for them. But they are trapped in a cycle of violence and degradation — both guards and prisoners are stuck, getting worse by the day. The book absolutely barrels to the end, culminating in a electrifying betrayal. Revueltas, who was himself imprisoned in one of Mexico’s most infamous prisons for opposing the government in the 1960s, shows how the dark and dehumanizing environment of prison, isolation, and torture, just leads to people growing more violent, more desperate.

Content warnings for ableism, self-harm, drugs, sexism, sexual assault, violence.

It was difficult to choose which Nettel book to even recognize here — to not feature her first book published in English, Natural Histories: Stories, or her autobiographical novel The Body Where I Was Born, both translated by J.T. Lichtenstein. But I had to pick her most recent book, this strange collection of eerie short tales. A man connects his identity a little too closely to a cactus at a local garden; a woman who can’t stop pulling out her hair meets a man who can’t stop cracking his knuckles; a young girl seeks “total solitude” on a remote beach. The stories are absurd and full of loneliness, of people struggling to connect with others. Nettel’s writing is strange but beautiful.

Content warnings for compulsive behavior, self-policing, mental hospital and confinement, suicide, stalking.