I hate the word “visceral” but if ever there were a novel that earned the descriptive, this is it. A young woman, part witch, mostly barrio urchin, communicates with the missing and dead of her neighborhood to learn the truth of what happened to them, while struggling to find meaning, purpose, or at least a moment of joy, in the gritty, desperate life she’s been given that - as her gift makes her all too aware - will likely be brief, brutal, and easily forgotten. I’ve never read a novel that felt more real, or more accepting, of its characters and setting.