Reviewed by Samuel Manickam
The pantheon of well-known contemporary Mexican women writers includes Elena Garro, Rosario Castellanos, Elena Poniatowska, Laura Esquivel, Carmen Boullosa, Alejandra Mastretta and Cristina Rivera Garza, among others. Since the mid-twentieth century these talented authors have enriched and expanded the Mexican literary canon by writing in the styles of magical realism, the fantastic, new journalism, autobiography, and even science fiction. They represent what the scholars Nuala Finnegan and Jane E. Lavery have termed the “Boom Femenino” or Feminine Boom (1, italics in original). While a variety of Mexican women writers continue to take their rightful place at the literary table next to male counterparts, there are still many who remain in the shadows. One is Gabriela Rábago Palafox (1950-1995) who, although a minor writer, showed great promise of developing into a major author before her untimely death.
Rábago Palafox started her writing career with short fiction often populated by child protagonists even though these books were aimed at adult readers. In the novelette Federico (1971) the titular protagonist is a young boy whose innocence is contrasted with the fallen adult world in which he has to make his way. Child protagonists are also featured in Relatos de la ciudad sin dueños (Stories of a City Without Owners, 1977) in which Rábago Palafox bravely ventures into science fiction, a genre eschewed by most Mexican writers at the time. In Todo ángel es terrible (All Angels Are Terrible, 1981) the protagonists are also children who in their mischievous adventures often verge on the fine line between innocence and evil. These three works represent the first phase of Rábago Palafox’s writing trajectory as she gradually matures in terms of literary expression and themes and characters transition from innocent children in a depraved world to malevolent adults (and sometimes children as well) as is evident in her fourth book, The Voice of Blood (La voz de la sangre, 1990; Mexican National Literary Award, 1989), translated by M. Elizabeth Ginway and Enrique Muñoz-Mantas.
As the title suggests, the stories in this collection center around the motif of blood – both literal and metaphoric. In their Introduction the translators discuss the recurrence of the vampire figure and underscore Rábago Palafox’s importance as a pioneer of vampiric literature in Mexican letters. Her eccentric stories stand out at a time – the 1980s and the 1990s – when most Mexican women writers were focused on pressing social issues as they sought increased agency in all sectors of society. Turning her back on the contemporary world, Rábago Palafox often returns to more parochial pre-modern settings which were often also the setting of the first vampire tales in Europe. “The Physician” is premised on a village doctor who drains his patients of blood with leeches and sells it to shadowy noblemen who may very well be vampires. In both “Creatures of the Night” and “A Boy With Red Hair” mysterious boys are implied in crimes of blood-sucking their victims to death. The titular protagonist in “Don Calaco” is apparently a vampire who retains his youthful energy as his former lover ages and dies. In other stories the vampiric presence is more symbolic: in “Fondness for Hell” and “The Woman Who Buys Children,” for example, life is squeezed out of victims in emotional and economic terms. As mentioned, the settings are often provincial regions of mostly unnamed countries and historical periods, thus accentuating a cryptic, gothic ambience. In the original Spanish this somber mood is further heightened by dry, formal, almost academic language often resulting in stiff prose reminiscent of certain mid-twentieth-century Mexican writers of fiction (e.g. Amparo Dávila, Guadalupe Piñeda and José Revueltas) who may have been Rábago Palafox’s models. The translation into English mostly maintains the rigid prose, especially through literal translations of phrases that sometimes seem clunky in English (more below).
In the final story, “Germánica”, Rábago Palafox abruptly frees herself from conventional styles and settings to give us a story contemporary in style, language, tone and subject matter. Here an unnamed female narrator – the mother? – recounts the life of Germánica who, like all children, loves fantastic stories and characters such as Peter Pan and Pinocchio. One day when leaving school, the five-year-old girl is apparently abducted by extraterrestrials as documented in a photograph of the UFO into which she disappears. It is not clear whether she willingly leaves Earth since she may have been an alien returning to her home planet as suggested by the narrator. In this story the science fiction motif of alien abduction is eloquently turned into a moving tale of childhood innocence lost in which extraterrestrials stand in for human adults. On the other hand, Germánica’s “alien-ness” as a child could also imply she belongs in the realm of spiritually superior beings (e.g. Peter Pan) who rescue her from the corrupt world of adults. A mother’s loss of her daughter is implied in the poignant tone expertly sustained in both Spanish and the translated English without spilling over into melodrama. The theme of blood is indirectly referenced through the possible filial relationship between Germánica and the aliens and/or the mother figure. This culminating story exemplifies Rábago Palafox’s nascent distinct narrative style coupled with an innovative sci-fi twist.
Although it was not included in the original Spanish edition of The Voice of Blood, the translators should have considered adding in the appendix Rábago Palafox’s story “Pandemia” (“Pandemic,” 1988; no English translation) which goes even further than “Germánica” in demonstrating her mature narrative style. In this story, which garnered her the prestigious Puebla Science Fiction Prize, the author focuses on female solidarity and cultural diversity via a lesbian couple who rescue and adopt a gypsy girl during a pandemic. Written during the height of the AIDS crisis in the 1980s this story memorably captures what may have seemed like an apocalypse for those in the LGBTQ+ community. Rábago Palafox utilizes a complex narrative strategy by giving voice to differing perspectives during a crisis. And instead of providing a facile scientific solution to the pandemic in the form of a vaccine, she emphasizes the human and the humane in the form of community-building. Through this story premised on the sci-fi theme of apocalypse, along with “Germánica”, Rábago Palafox joins many other Mexican female writers instrumental in the renovation of this genre in Mexico starting in the 1980s. Both stories demonstrate Rábago Palafox’s great potential for becoming an inventive writer with a unique style who could have taken her place in the company of famous female contemporaries (Brianda Domecq, Laura Esquivel, Carmen Boullosa, etc.). Sadly, sudden (and mysterious) death cut short her promising writing career.
The translation is well executed by two scholars in the field of modern Latin American narrative although at times it lacks literary refinement. One recurrent issue is a tendency to render literal translations of phrases and words resulting in awkward phrasing. For example, in “Creatures of the Night,” the phrase “…pareció del tamaño de una mosca…” (50, in original) is literally translated as “…he looked like the size of a fly…” (79). What is passive and overdone phrasing in the original could have been rendered more active in the translation: “…he looked like a fly.” Also, at times the translators could have been more creative in their word choice. For example, in “The Woman Who Buys Children,” the sentence “No soy robachicos” (65, in original) is translated as “I’m not a child taker” (99). The more specific and active verb in Spanish “robar” (“to rob”) is diluted to the vague “take” in English. A more active translation would be: “I do not rob children” or even “I do not kidnap children.” Thirdly, in a few cases some words were inaccurately translated. For example, in “Don Calaco” the word “loción” (31, in original) is mistranslated as “lotion” (55). Many Spanish-English dictionaries incorrectly list “lotion” and “loción” as equivalents when in fact they are false cognates. A correct translation of “loción” would be “cologne” or “men’s perfume.” These imperfections in the translation may mostly not be noticeable to non-Spanish speakers for whom these stories can be an entertaining and fast read. Finally, the translators’ Introduction, bibliographies and footnotes as well as attractive illustrations (many by the renowned Mexican artist José Guadalupe Posada) provide excellent context and background information on this relatively unknown Mexican author who exhibits the early stages of literary prominence.
Rábago Palafox, Gabriela. The Voice of Blood. Translated by M. Elizabeth Ginway and Enrique Muñoz-Mantas. University of Tampa Press, 2025.
Samuel Manickam is Professor of Spanish at the University of North Texas where he teaches classes on Mexican culture, Latin American literature, translation and interpretation. His many publications include the monograph Mexican Women Writers of Science Fiction: The Post-Female Novum (2025) and two Spanish-to-English book translations: Second Hand Loves by Enrique Serna (2026) and Spanish Film and the Postwar Novel: Reading and Watching Narrative Texts by Norberto Mínguez Arranz (2002).
Works Cited
Finnegan, Nuala and Jane E. Lavery. The Boom Femenino in Mexico: Reading Contemporary Women’s Writing. Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2010.
Rábago Palafox, Gabriela. “Pandemia.” Principios de incertidumbre: Premio Puebla de Ciencia Ficción 1984-1991. Edited by Celine Armenta, José Luis Zarate and Gerardo Porcayo Villalobos, Gobierno Del Estado de Puebla, 1992, pp. 103-115.
—. La voz de la sangre. Instituto Mexiquense de Cultura, 1990.