‘Lost Children Archive’ by Valeria Luiselli

If you have read the extraordinary Tell Me How it Ends, it will be clear that there is a topical continuation in the narrative of Valeria Luiselli’s latest novel Lost Children Archive. It is no surprise that the subject of migrant children is very much at the centre of this spectacular novel, but it is also a moving study of family dynamics.

As the family takes on a road trip from New York to the border with Mexico, the narrative becomes more and more intimate to the point that the reader feels like another passenger sitting in that car. What I found very moving are the descriptions of the relationship between parents and children. I think that in this novel Luiselli reminds us of the importance of observing our children aiming to understand who they are simply by contemplating them.


‘They look memorable from where I’m sitting: look like they should be photographed. I almost never take pictures of my own children. They hate being in pictures and always boycott the family’s photographic moments (…) Adults pose for eternity; children for the instant

As they cross the United States, dad tells the kids stories of the native Americans and in particular that of Geronimo. Mum is all about those children desperately trying to cross the Mexico-US border to be reunited with their relatives. Luiselli, as in Tell Me How it Ends drops those bombs that leave you once again stunned. It is a known fact that to start the deportation process (or ‘removal’ as the American authorities like to say) the detention centres (or ICE) are raided. And in that in-between children go missing. Do they escape? Is it better to become a missing person to eliminate the threat of being ‘removed’? How many thousands of children are wandering the streets now desperately trying to find a clue that will get them to mum or dad?

A critical point in the novel is when the family witness the deportation of around 20 children. Girls and boys lined up to board a small plane in an air strip in the middle of nowhere. What a better place, away from the public eye, away from everyone that could care.


If they hadn’t gotten caught, they probably would have gone to live with family, gone to school, playgrounds, parks. But instead, they’ll be removed, relocated, erased because there’s no place for them in this vast empty country’.

It has been a long time since I felt the need to mark a book, to make sure I remember those phrases to be able to go back to them again and again. Reading Lost Children Archive made me seriously think about the fragility of a child’s life, and how memories and experiences shape who they will become. Childhood is precious because it is so easily hurt. And of course, the stories of those unaccompanied child migrants keep making me sad and furious but I think we all have to thank Valeria Luiselli for the painful reminder of a reality faced by thousands of kids.


‘The only thing that parents can really give their children are little knowledges (…) this is how you cut your own toe nails, this is the temperature of a real hug, this is how you untangle the knots in your hair, this is how I love you.’

The novel has an unusual but genius structure that revolves around six boxes that are contained in the boot of the car. There are Polaroid pictures snapped by the 10 year-old son, maps, lists, and an impressive number of references to literary works, films and music. Even David Bowie’s Space Oddity plays a phenomenal role in the story. Lost Children Archive is a stunning novel, it’s moving, a little bit sad but worth reading because once again Valeria Luiselli strikes literary perfection.

Lost Children Archive is published in the UK by Harper Collins

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‘Tell Me How It Ends’ by Valeria Luiselli

The first time I heard about Valeria Luiselli was because I was looking for her novel The Story of my Teeth. I resisted the temptation of reading it in English and waited for my next trip to Mexico City to buy it. It was January 2018. Book distribution in Mexico never fails to surprise me so, of course, after visiting two major bookshops La historia de mis dientes was no where to be seen. But there is always light at the end of the tunnel and a genius bookseller said to me, why don’t you read Los niños perdidos (Tell Me How It Ends) and he handed me a thin little book. ‘It’s an essay’ he said, ‘about unaccompanied migrant children’. It was cheap, short and I thought that the main thing at that point was simply to read Valeria Luiselli.

Tell Me How It Ends is one of the most memorable books I have read in a long, long, time. And perhaps one of the most relevant of the last decade. Everyone should read it and this is why:

We are constantly bombed by images of migrants and their suffering. We are exposed to endless images of Syrian refugees; desperate people crossing the Mediterranean in the middle of the night on dangerous inflatable rafts; others crossing deserts by foot fleeing violence and war in their home nations. All of them in the most critical of situations, risking absolutely everything, their lives and those of their families. But I find that amidst the heart-breaking situation of all these people, migrants are perceived as a threat. ‘Look, here they come’, ‘Shouldn’t they be stopped?’.

The discourse of an utterly lack of compassion permeates the images we see on our screens on alarmingly regular basis. We witness the struggles and suffering of those parents risking their children’s life in the hope of a better future. I always wonder how desperate they must be that the prospect of drowning in the cold waters of the Mediterranean Sea is something worth considering, because if you make it, your life stands a chance of being better. Even if it’s a little bit better, that tiny bit it’s worth the try.

Now, think about this: picture all those images I’ve described but remove the adults, the mothers and fathers and that leaves you the absolutely insane, inhumane reality of unaccompanied migrant children. And that sucks. And makes me sad and angry.

As Europe struggles with its own migrant crisis, on the other side of the planet, Tell Me How It Ends focuses on those children making its way to the Mexico -US border in the hands of ‘coyotes’, who are nothing but ruthless people smugglers. These kids walk, cross rivers on rafts, ride on top of cargo trains and who knows what else for weeks or months until they reach the border sitting on a notoriously dangerous desert. What they want, is simply to reach their relatives in the United States. They want to feel at home.

The story usually is the following: the home town is unsafe, crippled by gang or drug trafficking violence. This mean people get murdered, women raped, there’s now where to turn and the best shot of surviving is by going away. So, mum, dad or older siblings leave chasing the American Dream and manages to settle over there. The children are left behind in the care of a relative. Flash forward months (or even years) grandma or auntie or uncle receive the instructions and money to get pay a ‘coyote’ to bring the kids over. The journey can take months and the risks are enormous. Kids are asked to memorise the life saving number that will get them to their families in the US, some have it stitched to the collar of the shirt or dress they are wearing. Imagine that. The best chance they have to making it is to be ‘caught’ by the Border Patrol and sent to one of the detention centres that we have seen on our TV screens (and looked away). From there, their situation is reviewed and if applicable they then appear in court. These little Guatemalan. Honduran, Ecuadorian, Nicaraguan or Salvadorian kids are asked to answer a questionnaire made up of 40 questions, in English, of course.

I’ll stop there because it is here where Luiselli’s little book becomes most essential and necessary to understand how this can be possible. Tell Me How It Ends works around these 40 questions. It narrates the stories she witnessed when working as a volunteer translator in a NY court assisting children, as young as 4, facing a judge who would then decide they had the right to remain in the US. If not, they are ‘removed’ from the country. This book, just shy of 100 pages is an absolute essential read to understand migration. It is, perhaps, an uncomfortable reminder of the lack of compassion towards those in need. And the more heart breaking when those risking their lives are so young and vulnerable. All that these unaccompanied child migrants want is their mum and dad to kiss them goodnight, and the world is taking that away from them.

Tell me How it Ends is published in the UK by Fourth Estate

The Adventures of Pinocchio: Classics Challenge #3

This read was full of surprises, much more than the previous reads. I guess it shows how Disney embeds their versions in the collective memory and it stays there with little chance of changing. Pinocchio is perhaps one of the most famous cautionary tales but the story is much darker than I expected.

So, here are my top shockers (and plot spoilers by the way) of this absolutely wonderful story:

Geppetto is a nasty, nasty man. Yes, he is rude and violent to the point of getting involved in full blow fights. ‘…Geppetto lost his head with rage and threw himself upon the carpenter. Then and there they gave each other a sound thrashing.’ Please tell me I am not alone in remembering him as a sweet old man.

We all love the Taking Cricket didn’t we? Well, brace yourself for my jaw-dropping moment of the story. We know that Pinocchio is full of mischief, so the little Cricket decides to give him a bit of advise:

‘Woe to boys who refuse to obey their parents and run away from home! They will never be happy in this world, and when they are older they will be very sorry for it.’ (…) ‘Careful, ugly Cricket! If you make me angry you’ll be sorry!’ The Cricket tells him that he is already sorry for him because he is a marionette and that is much worse than having a wooden head. After hearing this ‘Pinocchio jumped in a fury, took a hammer from the bench, and threw it with all his strength at the Talking Cricket. (…) ‘cri-cri-cri’ the poor Cricket fell from the wall, dead! No remorse added to the scene.

Most famous fact of the story is that Pinocchio’s nose grows when he lies. I did not know this happens when the Fairy throws that spell on him: ‘…am laughing at your lies . ‘How do you know I’m lying?’ ‘Lies, my boy,
are known in a moment. There are two kinds of lies, lies with short legs and lies with long noses. Yours, just now, happen to have long noses.’
Parenting owe so much to this line!

The last revelation for me is the slightly disturbing Land of Toys. A place that promises children endless fun, no rules, no discipline and absolute freedom to do whatever they want. But this sinister place slowly transform the children into donkeys to be sold as well, slaves, really. Bit harsh.

Reading The Adventures of Pinnocchio was an unforgettable experience. I did not expect it to be so ‘grown up’ if that’s the right word. Pinnocchio has the behavior and attitude that every parent dreads: he is rude, lazy a liar, and he constantly runs away. His adventures take him to far away places and his actions have consequences for those who care for him. The marionette has to let down Geppeto, the Fairy and his friends in order to find the right path in life, and it makes a lot of sense to do it this way when thinking of a young reader.

It’s a great read and a cautionary tale that I cannot wait to read to my daughter, perhaps toning down the animal cruelty towards crickets.

To read more about the Classic’s Reading Challenge click here

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland: Classics Challenge #2

This is one of the perfect examples of the obvious classics that you’ve heard all about it: you recognize Alice and Cheshire Cat, you’ve seen the various films but you haven’t actually read the book. At least, I didn’t until now.

Lots have been said about Lewis Carroll’s masterpiece. It’s been the subject of endless literary studies but I will tell you one thing: it’s weird. Really, really weird.

The plot, as we know is simple. Alice and her sister are enjoying a day out when she spots white rabbit with a pocket watch. Curious, Alice follows him and falls down the rabbit hole and into a magical world where her adventures take place. She goes big, she goes small, she swims (and nearly drowns) in her tears, she finds tiny doors, she meets the craziest characters ever: the Mad Hatter, the Mock Turtle,The Queen of Hearts, the March Hare, the Cheshire Cat, The Duchess and more. For me, the Duchess is the weirdest and most fascinating of them all. And I’ll tell you why.

Children’s literature has plenty of the pretty and beautiful. But what fascinated me about The Duchess is that she’s ugly. Brutally ugly. And on top of that mean to her child and it’s the owner of the world famous Cheshire Cat!

It is unusual to deal with the lack of looks so boldly to the point that Alice feels very uneasy around her because of her appearance. “Alice did not much like keeping so close to her: first, because the Duchess was VERY ugly; and secondly, because she was exactly the right height to rest her chin upon Alice’s shoulder…” 

The iconic images accompanying Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland are those illustrated by Sir John Tenniel. Digging around a little bit, I found that, according to Martin Gardner, in The Annotated Alice, Tenniel’s drawing of The Duchess was inspired in the painting The Ugly Duchess (c. 1513) by the Flemish painter Quentin Massys. The unusual and slightly disturbing artwork is part of The National Gallery’s permanent collection. Look at it, it’s brutal. And the resemblance is spot on!

Through its pages I can see why children and adults keep going back to this story. It is the madness of it all, circumstances and characters, that makes it so incredibly appealing, fun and entertaining. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland is an epic celebration of the human imagination and if you haven’t read it, do it now, it will feel like a dream.

To find out more about my Classic’s reading challenge click here.

I’m Back or On Why I did not Blog for Over a Year

It’s been more than a year since my last blog post on Memory of Water. My excuse for this silence is well, I had a baby girl on 12 May 2014!

fine balanceOn my last day at work, my wonderful colleagues at Belgravia Books gave me a pile of books that promised to make the wait for baby more bearable and less boring. Well, baby took it’s time and in between cooking and freezing, packing and re packing, going swimming (going floating really) I started a big fat novel called A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry.

At 600 plus pages and a particularly small font, the novel symbolised my resignation that baby was officially overdue. There would be long days ahead of me.

Without giving much away, the novel is set in India in the late seventies during the period known as The Emergency. As usual, I knew nothing of this chaotic episode in India’s history but the great triumph of the novel are the characters. On one hand Mistry gives a heart breaking insight to life in Bombay’s slums, and on the other depicts the never ending struggles of the middle class to remain there. The clashes between rural and urban life are also a key element on the development of the characters in the story.

Half way into the book, Paloma was born. In the few moments of peace and quiet in hospital I found myself wondering about what was in store for my characters. In particular, the tailors and aunty Dina. They felt like family and in a surreal way I was worried about them.

Back at home and in between naps, I managed to finish the novel. It took me 3 months but every page was worth it. I had the best of both worlds, a sleeping baby and a good book.

Hate the character, love the book

commandantIs it possible to like novel featuring a protagonist that is evil and unscrupulous? Or is it that we admire the author’s ability to construct a character that will give us the creeps as the story unfolds? In order to find the answer to these questions I dare you to read Monsieur Le Commandant (Gallic Books).

In this outstanding book, Romain Slocombe gives life to Paul-Jean Husson, a character that you will find very hard to forget. This is an epistolary novel centred in one letter only addressed to a Secret Service Commandant. We are presented with one narrative voice which is that of Mr Husson. So don’t get too upset demanding ‘the other side of the story’. There will never be one.

So, who is Paul-Jean Husson? Our protagonist is a retired WWI hero, powerful, arrogant, also a novelist and on top of that a Nazi sympathiser. Needless to say, the anti-Semitic element is pretty much a key part of his personality but things get nasty when he falls desperately in love with his son’s German wife Ilse. And to make matters worse, after he investigates her background, he finds out that she’s Jewish. Well, if you think this sounds bad enough, Monsieur Le Commandant has many more surprises in store for you.

There’s no question that Mr Husson is a despicable character. The things he says in his letter to ‘Monsieur le Commandant’ are shocking and offensive but we must remember that Paul-Jean Husson is overall a man of his time.  So before you throw the book in rage remember this is 1942 and although it may be hard to believe, this novel is a reminder that there were people who thought persecuting Jewish people wasn’t such a bad idea.

‘The Jewish question has been often been misunderstood. I do not criticise the Yids for their work ethic . . . or for their notorious business acumen. As you know as well as I, the gravity of the situation is that the Jews pose a national and social threat to every country in which they are to be found. National, because the Jews are a homeless nation and assimilate only superficially into the civilization of the country that has nonetheless honoured them with its welcome.’ (p.43)

It is hard to read some of these lines in the present time and not think in horror how could someone say and do such things? But I applaud Romain Slocombe for creating such a despicable character such as Paul-Jean Husson.  Why? For the simple reason that he is a reminder that we’ve come a long way and we must work together to make the world a better place.

Bitter Almonds or The Privilege of Literacy

bitterThey say that giving a book to someone is also giving a commitment as people expect you to read it. This is how Bitter Almonds fell into my hands.

As many of you, I have a reading waiting list and I promise myself not to buy more books until I’ve read the ones I have in that never ending pile. I must confess I was reading something else when Bitter Almonds appeared. With not too much room in my bag I carried the book in my hand and while on the bus I started reading it. The rest is history. I was hooked.

This is perhaps one of the lesser known novels by the French writer Laurence Cossé. But certainly one that had a strong impact in me and that I’ll remember for a long time. The idea behind the novel is simple: literacy.

For many reading and writing is as natural as breathing. I can’t even remember that process in my childhood. I was born in a family of readers, in a house with a library that keeps on growing and where you’ll be able to find all sorts of books from classics to mountaineering and landscape gardening books. Reading has always been there, but not for Fadila, Bitter Almonds’ main character.

One day, any day, Edith, receives her new housemaid: Fadila, a 60 year old Moroccan lady. Nothing unusual there except that Fadila is illiterate. And this is when the story becomes heartbreaking and an eye opener. Edith is determined to teach Fadila to read and write, and in this process the world of Fadila opens to the reader. Just imagine not using public transport such as the underground because you’re unable to read the stations or the map.

Even more, finding your bearings in a big city rely on your memory, street names mean nothing to you. Fadila always takes the bus, the same bus and if there’s a change of route she panics and can’t get to get to work. Using a cash point is unthinkable and therefore the only way is to ask a cashier in a bank to help you fill the slips. Needless to say, Fadila can’t do numbers either. The novel is set in modern day Paris, a city where, like many others, literacy is a given. In today’s world we look around assuming the written word speaks to everyone. But very few times we sit back to think about those who did not have the opportunity or the gift of literacy.

Fadila’s journey into learning is truly a very difficult one. I’ve never tried to teach anyone to read and write and since recommending this book on Twitter I was contacted by teachers who read the book and told me that Edith’s and Fadila’s experience was beyond painful and frustrating.

I come from a country where illiteracy is not unheard of and as a book lover is easy to forget it. The great achievement of a novel such as Bitter Almonds is that takes you to the core of a life shared by many people all over the world.

In a nutshell, never take literacy for granted.