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A review by readthesparrow
Silver Nitrate by Silvia Moreno-Garcia
dark
mysterious
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
3.0
I have complex feelings about Silver Nitrate.
On one hand, I loved setting. There’s so much interesting real-life movie history woven into the fiction, such as the way that films were dubbed. I’m very sad that I can’t watch all the fictional films made up for the narrative. They sound weird and bizarre and exactly my type.
I also enjoyed the two main characters, Montserrat and Tristán. I love acerbic female characters, so Montserrat's tough, anti-social personality is right up my alley. While I found Tristán a little less interesting, he has his moments. They’re both deeply messy people–Montserrat is obsessive and brusque, while Tristán is self-centered and vain–whose flaws are on full display.
But they’re also two people who care deeply about one another and have since childhood. The thing is that while this is well established, there’s a particular device that is used to remind us of this trust that gets grating. The two jumped into a grain silo as kids, and this is meant to illustrate the dynamics of their relationship: Montserrat leading, Tristán following.
The thing is that this grain silo thing gets brought up a lot. (I counted: nine times at least.) At some point it’s like oh, my god, I get it. They jumped into grain and it was a pivotal moment in their childhood. I don’t need to be reminded about it every time they choose to trust each other.
So. Why is my opinion on this book a little complicated?
Silver Nitrate is marketed as a “dark thriller.”
And it is–for the first half.
Halfway through, there’s a few chapters that felt strangely detached from the characters, almost summarize-y, skipping over events that, in a thriller, I would normally expect to be in the forefront of the narrative.
For example, Montserrat is a suspect for the death of Abel, the director. She is arrested and detained for two days. These events are skipped over and summarized when Tristán picks her up from the station. He tells her that she could be in real danger–the cops, after all, might pin the murder on her because she likes horror movies and it’s convenient–but after this chapter, the fact she is a suspect for murder, her time at the police station, or the investigation into Abel’s death is never brought up again.
In a dark thriller, I would expect that extra layer of tension and those additional stakes to last longer than a single scene.
The 50 to 70 percent mark was a bit of a slog for similar reasons. It wasn’t all that dark and it wasn’t all that thrilling. It felt as though the narrative was just trying to get through these middle events to get to the next part.
Then, at 70%, we go abruptly from “dark occult thriller with ghosts and curses” to “full on urban fantasy street battles.”
Don’t get me wrong. I like urban fantasy. But it’s a huge, jarring leap to make from dark thriller into urban fantasy with magical duels and giant dogs made of goop. A leap I did not enjoy, especially as the sudden power jump came seemingly out of nowhere, only to be explained later in an exposition dump. One particular line felt like the narrative was breaking the fourth wall to speak directly to readers who, like me, were like “What the fuck is going on?”
Halfway through, there’s a few chapters that felt strangely detached from the characters, almost summarize-y, skipping over events that, in a thriller, I would normally expect to be in the forefront of the narrative.
For example, Montserrat is a suspect for the death of Abel, the director. She is arrested and detained for two days. These events are skipped over and summarized when Tristán picks her up from the station. He tells her that she could be in real danger–the cops, after all, might pin the murder on her because she likes horror movies and it’s convenient–but after this chapter, the fact she is a suspect for murder, her time at the police station, or the investigation into Abel’s death is never brought up again.
In a dark thriller, I would expect that extra layer of tension and those additional stakes to last longer than a single scene.
The 50 to 70 percent mark was a bit of a slog for similar reasons. It wasn’t all that dark and it wasn’t all that thrilling. It felt as though the narrative was just trying to get through these middle events to get to the next part.
Then, at 70%, we go abruptly from “dark occult thriller with ghosts and curses” to “full on urban fantasy street battles.”
Don’t get me wrong. I like urban fantasy. But it’s a huge, jarring leap to make from dark thriller into urban fantasy with magical duels and giant dogs made of goop. A leap I did not enjoy, especially as the sudden power jump came seemingly out of nowhere, only to be explained later in an exposition dump. One particular line felt like the narrative was breaking the fourth wall to speak directly to readers who, like me, were like “What the fuck is going on?”
I was also asking what the fuck was going on at the end. I literally rolled my eyes and said “Are you kidding me?” out loud.
Because, for some reason, the two decide to move in together and start dating in the final chapter.
In my humble opinion, while the two work well together as lead characters, they don’t have any romantic chemistry. Their platonic relationship, as messy, unhealthy, and dependent as it is, is fascinating to read on page. Their friendship challenges each of them to be better than they are in the interest of the other.
Suddenly changing that friendship into something romantic feels cheap, despite the narrative throwing in brief references to Montserrat’s schoolgirl crush on him. This ending is both predictable (he was a boy, she was a girl) and unearned (brief moments of passing attraction does not a romantic subplot establish).
This ending is part of a pattern in media I deeply dislike: two characters, a man and a woman, share a deep bond, love one another, and trust one another in a platonic relationship, only for the ending of the book to hastily smoosh the two together into a romantic relationship as a way to validate their closeness.
God forbid a man and a woman stay platonic, right?
(Plus, Montserrat deserves way better than him.)
In my humble opinion, while the two work well together as lead characters, they don’t have any romantic chemistry. Their platonic relationship, as messy, unhealthy, and dependent as it is, is fascinating to read on page. Their friendship challenges each of them to be better than they are in the interest of the other.
Suddenly changing that friendship into something romantic feels cheap, despite the narrative throwing in brief references to Montserrat’s schoolgirl crush on him. This ending is both predictable (he was a boy, she was a girl) and unearned (brief moments of passing attraction does not a romantic subplot establish).
This ending is part of a pattern in media I deeply dislike: two characters, a man and a woman, share a deep bond, love one another, and trust one another in a platonic relationship, only for the ending of the book to hastily smoosh the two together into a romantic relationship as a way to validate their closeness.
God forbid a man and a woman stay platonic, right?
(Plus, Montserrat deserves way better than him.)
FINAL THOUGHTS
This was my first Silvia Morena-Garcia book, and it’s gotten me interested in reading her novel Certain Dark Things, a neo-noir fantasy also set in Mexican City.
I’d recommend Silver Nitrate to urban fantasy readers looking to explore the horror genre, but I wouldn’t necessarily recommend it to anyone looking for a dark occult thriller.
Thank you to Del Rey for providing a digital ARC via Netgalley.