A Dance with Shadows: My Thoughts on Mayra by Nicky Gonzalez
There’s something truly magnetic about a book that intertwines friendship, nostalgia, and a creeping sense of dread. When I stumbled upon Mayra, the debut novel by Nicky Gonzalez, I was instantly captivated—not just by the haunting cover but by the promise of a complex exploration of relationships set against a backdrop of magical realism and horror. As a reader who often finds solace in the depths of character-driven narratives, I couldn’t resist the pull of Ingrid and Mayra’s story.
At its core, Mayra is a tale of evolution and estrangement, painting a vivid portrait of two friends whose lives diverge yet remain inextricably linked. From their teenage years of deep connection to a strained adulthood, Gonzalez deftly illustrates the nuances of friendship, particularly how it can shape our sense of self. Ingrid’s struggle with invisibility is palpable; she feels truly seen only through the lens of her friend, Mayra. The portrayal of this dynamic resonated deeply with me—how often do we measure our worth against the attention of someone we hold dear? Mayra becomes both the moonlight breaking through Ingrid’s darkness and the source of her shadows.
When Mayra invites Ingrid to a vacation rental in the eerie swamps of Florida, my heart raced with trepidation and excitement. What begins as a hopeful reunion morphs into an unsettling exploration of the past, layered with suspense and supernatural elements. Gonzalez’s writing is nothing short of lyrical; her descriptions are evocative and beautifully crafted. I found myself highlighting sentences, such as “my mind can make monsters from smoke.” This deft way with language allowed me to fully immerse myself in the textured world she presents—one that feels alive, vibrant, and yet hauntingly oppressive.
Ingrid’s unique oddness shines through moments that felt achingly familiar. Her insecurities echo those of anyone who has ever felt marginalized or overshadowed. The introduction of Benji, Mayra’s boyfriend, adds another layer of anxiety, as his friendly facade conceals something more sinister. I felt Ingrid’s discomfort keenly, remembering countless times when I’ve sensed an unspoken tension in a crowded room.
As the horror creeps in with each eerie discovery about the house—a room of mirrors, the weight of atmosphere thickening—I found myself holding my breath alongside Ingrid. Gonzalez expertly builds this tension, making me feel her protagonist’s desperation and yearning for a way out that mirrors the claustrophobia of their relationship.
The book’s nonlinear pacing, with jumps in time, adds to the story’s disorientation, especially as Ingrid grapples with fragmented memories and a shifting reality. I felt the yawning horror of her spiraling mind as she struggles to reclaim herself amidst the chaos.
If you’re drawn to narratives that explore the complexities of female friendship entangled with elements of magic and suspense, Mayra is a must-read. Nicky Gonzalez has crafted something remarkable for a debut—an exploration of how places can haunt us and friendships can bind us and ultimately, how both can lead us into darkness.
I’ll be keeping an eager eye on Gonzalez’s future work because, like Ingrid, I know how powerful it is to have a witness to our stories. This book left me reflective, unnerved, and ultimately enriched. Rating? A solid 4.75/5.
So curl up, keep a light on, and immerse yourself in the beautiful, foreboding world of Mayra. I promise it’ll linger with you long after the last page is turned.