Exploring Identity and Resilience in La mala costumbre
As I wandered through the shelves of my local bookstore, a title caught my eye: La mala costumbre by Alana S. Portero. The evocative cover art and the promise of a narrative that intertwines gritty realism with tenderness drew me in like a moth to a flame. Yet, it wasn’t until I dove into its pages that I truly realized I was in for an emotional rollercoaster—one that I would recommend to anyone looking to explore the intersections of identity, family, and resilience in the face of societal rejection.
Set against the raw backdrop of San Blas, a working-class neighborhood in the outskirts of Madrid during the tumultuous ’80s and ’90s, Portero’s novel beautifully captures the complexities of growing up as a trans girl in a world that often feels hostile. The protagonist’s journey is a poignant reminder of the lengths one must go to reconcile inner truths with external realities. It’s a tale of survival—a raw and ferocious reflection of how resentment and rage can become valid responses to a world that struggles to accept those who are different.
Portero’s prose is strikingly powerful. Written in the first person, it not only conveys the harshness of the protagonist’s existence but also envelops the reader in a cocoon of emotion and tenderness. The author masterfully balances the harsh realities of life in San Blas with the delicate inner life of a girl who feels trapped in a body misaligned with her identity. Each word feels deliberate, each sentence meticulously woven into a tapestry of oral history and heartache.
The characters Portero introduces are as rich and complex as the setting itself. The protagonist’s family—illustrated with vivid detail—serves as a microcosm of larger societal dynamics; hardworking yet vulnerable, supportive yet imperfect. The relationships with secondary characters, like Margarita, Eugenia, and Jay, form a lifeline for the protagonist—a reminder of the love and understanding that can sometimes flourish amidst adversity. Their shared experiences and vulnerabilities beautifully echo the duality of the protagonist’s life—a dichotomy that leapt from the pages and resonated deeply with me.
One of the most striking sentiments captured in the book is Portero’s assertion that she refuses to let her novel be confined by labels like "LGBT." This perspective is not just refreshing; it’s empowering. It speaks volumes about the universality of her story and reminds us that every narrative has the potential to transcend categorization. I often found myself flipping back to certain passages, captivated by the tender way she portrays the protagonist’s internal conflict, particularly the moment she recognizes the double life she’s leading—one where her true self remains hidden by day.
Yet, it is the ending that struck me most profoundly. Portero depicts a catharsis that feels painfully real—a reflection of the struggles many face in reconciling their identities with societal expectations. It left me with a bittersweet feeling of hope and heartbreak, a reminder of the journey many still traverse today.
In conclusion, La mala costumbre is an extraordinary novel that should resonate with a diverse readership. It’s a book for anyone who has ever felt like an outsider, who has grappled with their identity, or who seeks a deeper understanding of the societal structures that dictate our existence. The emotional depth and evocative prose will linger with you long after you turn the last page, inviting introspection and empathy. This novel has not only touched my heart but also compelled me to reflect on the importance of acceptance and the strength that comes from embracing one’s true self. I wholeheartedly recommend it—this powerful narrative deserves a place on your bookshelf.