When Two Stories Share the Same Ancestry — My Thoughts on Bochica

I just finished Bochica, and wow what a ride through atmosphere, ancestry, and slow-burn tension. Before getting into the review, I have to acknowledge something: as the author of The Ordinary Bruja (coming November 4), it would feel disingenuous not to point out how these two books could be literary cousins. They both carry the pulse of Gothic storytelling, generational secrets, and complicated mother-daughter legacies—but they tell those stories in completely different ways.

That’s the beauty of creation: two writers can start from similar soil and still grow wildly different blooms. Bochica proves that originality isn’t about inventing something new; it’s about execution, voice, and perspective.

What Worked for Me

The Gothic atmosphere was stunning—slowly unfurling, full of whispers and shadowed corners. The pacing felt intentional, letting tension simmer rather than explode. I love that the story respected its time period (1920s-1930s Colombia) while still speaking to modern readers. The themes of colonial legacy, Catholic repression, and women navigating power all felt grounded and authentic.

Antonia, the main character, resonated deeply with me. Some reviewers called her passive, but I saw her as a woman shaped by her era—reflective of a world and a faith still wrestling with equality and voice. As someone raised in a culture deeply entwined with Catholicism and patriarchy, that rang true. Her acknowledgment of her mother’s flawed “protection” and the book’s reckoning with white-savior ideology gave the story real weight.

What Didn’t Fully Click

There were two small things that pulled me out of the reading experience:

• Name inconsistency — Antonia shifted between calling her parents by first names and by “Mama” or “Papa.” It confused me more than once and disrupted the rhythm of her narration.
• A touch of modern language — The phrase “mental health” felt slightly anachronistic for the 1930s setting, though it didn’t ruin immersion.

And while I personally wanted a stronger crescendo near the end, I can appreciate the restraint. The ending matches the book’s deliberate pacing—quiet, reflective, and emotionally grounded.

The Reader Divide

Before finishing the book, I peeked at Goodreads reviews (curiosity got me), and the reception reminded me of what I’ve seen for The Ordinary Bruja: very polarized. You either love it or it doesn’t click. That’s the hallmark of art that dares to sit in discomfort. Bochica isn’t trying to please everyone—it’s trying to tell the truth in its own cadence.

It’s also a great reminder that reviews are subjective. I always check a reviewer’s history before deciding how much weight to give their opinion. Some readers docked stars for things that didn’t bother me at all, like tone or historical realism. For me, Bochica’s blend of realism and myth was exactly right.

Final Thoughts

Bochica is a haunting, beautifully written story for readers who crave slow-burn Gothic horror, historical depth, and emotional complexity. If you loved the tone and themes of Mexican Gothic but want something that feels more spiritually grounded in Latin American mythology, you’ll adore this one.

⭐ 4 stars — A deeply atmospheric, thought-provoking read that lingers long after the last page.

And if you find yourself craving a modern-day cousin to Bochica, with the same echoes of ancestral guilt and feminine power but set in contemporary Ohio—then pick up The Ordinary Bruja this November 1. Trust me, these two books are from the same spiritual lineage, and reading them together will make the magic even richer.

The Ordinary Bruja: Book One of Las Cerradoras Series – Johanny Ortega

Marisol Espinal has spent her life trying to disappear from her family’s whispers of magic, from the shame of not belonging, from the truth she refuses to face. She’s always wanted to be someone else: confident, capable, extraordinary.

But when strange visions, flickering shadows, and warnings written in her mother’s hand begin to stalk her, Marisol is forced to confront her deepest fear: what if she isn’t extraordinary at all? What if she’s painfully ordinary?

Yet Hallowthorn Hill doesn’t call to just anyone. And the more Marisol resists, the stronger its pull becomes. The past she’s buried claws its way back, and something in the mist is watching—waiting for her to remember.

If Marisol cannot face the truth about who she is and where she comes from, the same darkness that destroyed her ancestors will claim her, too.

Somewhere in the shadows, something knows her name.

And it’s time for Marisol to learn why.

Pre-order now

Here is a chapter (or a single story?) from "Kalpa Imperial", one of the most beautiful #fantasy #books I've ever read, by Argentinian writer Angélica #Gorodischer.
📚💙
It was #translated from Spanish by none other than Ursula K. #LeGuin.
https://smallbeerpress.com/free-stuff-to-read/2017/10/20/the-end-of-a-dynasty-or-the-natural-history-of-ferrets/

#KalpaImperial #RecommendedReading #WritersOfMastodon #book #bookstodon #bookworm #SpeculativeFiction #literature #LiteratureInTranslation #LatinAmericanLiterature

In his short #story, "Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius," Jorge Luis #Borges describes (80 years before the fact) an entire world that falls for absurd mythologies, made by some rich reclusive assholes just for the lulz.
Don't let anyone tell you #literature is useless.
[English #translation in #PDF]

https://sites.evergreen.edu/politicalshakespeares/wp-content/uploads/sites/226/2015/12/Borges-Tl%C3%B6n-Uqbar-Orbius-Tertius.pdf

#literature #LiteratureInTranslation #LatinAmericanLiterature #JorgeLuisBorges #ShortStory #ShortStories #LiteratureOfTheFantastic #WeirdFiction

The Invention of Morel

https://library.hrmtc.com/2023/11/13/the-invention-of-morel/

Just finished Pink Slime (Mugre Rosa) by Fernanda Trías and translated by Heather Cleary. This book deserves a blog post by all rights, it was fantastic. It's an environmental dystopia novel, sure, but it's far more than doom reading or a horror read. Complex relationships; explorations of non-linear memory; unrelenting personal shortcomings - all against a steady sense of increasing desperation. It kept me guessing.

Can't resist a random quote:

"Actually, I think about the days after the first red wind: the panic, the uncertainty. The phone calls from friends reciting contradictory theories, each one clinging to their truth and then justifying their decision to leave: the life worth living, the body worth saving. Their desperate lists of reasons. For what? It’s better to live like a rat than to not live at all. It was funny how they thought they needed reasons. How they couldn’t accept that our lives were driven by chance, maybe by inertia. And why did they need to tell me? No one had asked them to explain themselves, but they all called, offering motivations, comparing strategies, dusting off old ideas about survival instincts and the preservation of the species. They called so I could validate their decision, so I could encourage their discourse of life at any cost. And when they were met with ambivalence bordering on indifference, they tried to change my mind by showing me the bright side, as if they were out there saving souls. When they failed, they turned vicious so quickly it was clear their animosity had always been there. They blamed me for everything, even their own misfortune."

#bookstodon #latinamericanliterature