This, by Janice Worthen at Small Press Distribution:

ANTÍGONA GONZÁLEZ made my feet heavy, my hands itch, my thoughts turn to circles...around and around with Antígona, her big heart, her determination, searching for the disappeared. "How could I not demand his body even if just to bury it?" In such cases, how does the heart not become a tomb? "Facing what disappears: what does not disappear." Cursed to find the missing in every newly-found body and to never find them. The tethers holding a multitude of feet in place severed by each person lost. How many are set adrift? "I'm also disappearing, Tadeo." In this moving, tragic, loving, aching book, Antígona searches among a sea of bodies, living and dead, but how does one search when the sea keeps growing, keeps crashing in? "That's why when I watch the news, the truth is I don't know what to believe or who to believe...Day after day our certainties have slipped away from us. We've been unable to hold on." I closed this book feeling abandoned, bereft, and ghostly. I closed this book like a person might close a grave...a grave one never got the chance to dig.

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