TITLE: Our Share of Night
AUTHOR: Mariana Enriquez TRANSLATOR: Megan McDowell
588 pages, Hogarth Books, ISBN 9780451495150 (paperback; also hardcover, e-book, audio)
MY RATING: 5 stars out of 5
Mariana Enriquez’s Our Share of Night, translated into English by Megan McDowell, is not an easy book to read. It is close to 600 pages of dense emotive language, shifts in point-of-view, jumps in time, forays into multiple horror sub-genres, history lessons, and a pervading sense of doomed inevitability. But it is a book worth reading and contemplating. I might not have read the book, or at least not now, if it hadn’t been chosen as the January selection for Stanza Books’ Horror Book Club. Weeks after finishing it, scenes are still popping unbidden into my head and the urge to research the 1980s history of Argentina in more detail keeps growing.
Our Share of Night is primarily the story of Juan Peterson and his son Gaspar, who one morning in January 1981 set out on a road trip that will eventually take them to the remote family estate of Juan’s recently deceased wife, Rosario. Rosario’s family is part of a worldwide cult called The Order, and Juan is the Order’s unwilling medium, keeping them in contact with the Darkness they worship and which they believe has promised them immortality of a sort. Juan will do anything to protect his son from being used by the Order – even if it means putting himself, his brother Lius, his best friend Stephen, and his wife’s half-sister Tali in danger. The aftereffects of that initial road trip play out years later, as Juan’s health continues to fail and Gaspar ages into adulthood.
I say ‘primarily’ because in addition to the large sections of the book told in close third-person from Juan’s and then Gaspar’s POV (with occasional forays into close third from the POVs of various friends and loved ones), there are shorter sections told from other people’s POV: a stream-of-consciousness section from the POV of Juan’s adoptive “father” Doctor Bradford; a short first-person section narrated by a journalist; and a long flashback narrated by the late Rosario. The Doctor Bradford section was the toughest part of the book for me, as stream-of-consciousness is not a form I enjoy, and also one of the more horrific passages as well.
Enriquez smoothly intermixes supernatural/cosmic horror (the scenes with the unknowable Darkness and the way it manifests through Juan),cult horror (The history and machinations of The Order), body horror (very much not easy to read are the passages describing what one of the Order members has done to deform young children), slasher horror (people in a house with a deranged killer), houses that are haunted or connected to supernatural realms (several), medical horror (the AIDS Crisis), generational trauma, and the very real horrors of living under a dictatorship that caused the disappearance of thousands of citizens. I’m hard pressed to think of a sub-genre of horror that isn’t represented in one form or another. There’s even a bit of erotic horror.
The true core of the book is the characters. I can’t say that I particularly like Juan, but I believed, and even admired, his need to protect his son from the horrors that have been inflicted on him. I believed in his need to somehow revenge himself on those who have abused him. I felt for Gaspar even as I yelled at him (yes, I yelled – I didn’t throw the book across the room, but I yelled) for falling into some of the same negative behaviors his exhibited. Enriquez’s handling of this generational inheritance of anger and propensity for physical violence is nuanced and oh so very realistic, as is Gaspar’s awareness that he needs to break the cycle and his struggle to do so. Rosario is equally complex in her love for Juan and her drive to take over (and theoretically change) the Order but at what cost? What, if anything, does she consider unacceptable?
Enriquez also has a lot to say about the perseverance of organizations and orders. She never directly references the legend of the Hydra (cut off one head, and two more grow back) but like that creature, despite generational bulldozing (for lack of a better term), the Order keeps coming back – much like the dictatorships of Argentina (the faces may change; the methodologies of control don’t). And so the horror continues even as the book ends.
As stated earlier, this is not an easy book to read for many reasons. But what it has to say about the history of Argentina, of colonialism, of fanaticism, is too important not to make the effort. It’s not a polemic; it’s not a lecture. It is a fantastic, character driven novel that also holds a mirror up to systems of control (organizational and interpersonal) while also touching on pretty much every type of horror story you can think of.
I’ve had Enriquez’s 2021 short story collection, The Dangers of Smoking in Bed, on my To Be Read bookcase pretty much since it was published, and bought her 2024 collection, A Sunny Place for Shady People, as soon as it came out – both at the recommendation of Mark at Stanza Books in Beacon NY. This novel has convinced me to move both collections up closer to the top of my To Be Read stacks.