Review : Dead Girls by Selva Almada

Dead Girls by Selva Almada is a close look at murders and violence against women in Argentina. In a slim book of less than 150 pages, narrated by Almada herself, we are thrust into three brutal murders of young, ordinary women. Charco Press’ blurb of the novel states, “In 2018, 139 women died in the UK as a result of male violence (The Guardian). In Argentina this number is far higher, with 278 cases registered for that same year.” Almada exposes the brutality of the unjust and social-class obsessed society that turns a blind eye to the violence, and also normalizes the mistreatment of women. A world where femicides are commonplace and women, especially those from lower classes, are treated as if they do not matter.

Review of Dead Girls by Selva Almada, translated from the Spanish by Annie McDermott

Almada focusses on three women who were murdered in the 1980s in Argentina. All three deaths are unresolved to-date and the culprits unpunished. The three deaths took place in 1983 (María Luisa Quevedo—a 15 year old who had just started work as a maid), 1986 (Andrea Danne—a student stabbed in her bed) and 1988 (Sarita Mundín—a 20 year old who worked several jobs before turning to sex work). During this time period, Argentina was in the throes of restoration of democracy (1983). In 1990, the case of María Soledad Morales, was perhaps the first Argentinian femicide to lead to a national protest.

True to the subject matter, Dead Girls is different from Almada’s The Wind that Lays Waste though the finesse of her writing shines through. Dead Girls, being a journalistic novel, calls for extensive field work—Almada interviews family, friends and witnesses, researches the history through newspapers and surveys. Often her narration takes a fictional quality as she tries to imagine how a day in the life of the victim looked like. But more so, we are grounded to the reality by accompanying her on her bus journeys, sharing her eagerness to meet contacts (while also wondering if they will meet at all), impatiently waiting at cafes, and trying to piece together the predictions of a tarot reader. It is in the passages about the tarot reader that I felt I reached the core of Almada’s writing, all too human and trying every way possible to get a glimpse at what actually happened.

Unlike many narratives that focus on the killers and violators, Almada has chosen the hapless victims at the forefront of the novel, to shine light on violence against women and femicide. A woman could get killed, simply for being a woman. If a woman was raped, it is usually her fault—Times haven’t changed even in 2020s, have they? By describing the daily life, dreams and aspirations of her victims, Almada makes us grieve for these three girls from whom the joy of life was snatched away in the most brutal manner.

There’s a passage where María Luisa’s brother is in conversation with Almada. He owns a picture of María in the morgue, bought off a police officer. The line gave me a feeling of being slapped on the face. Just a line, but the impact! Later he tells how they could not identify María Luisa’s body—“Completely disfigured. I only recognized her because of a scar on her leg, from when I chucked a tape player at her one time.” When it is discovered that the body washed up in the banks of Tcalamochita river—thought to be Sarita—is not in fact Sarita, I winced. A small part of me hoped she was alive somewhere, but I was also tormented by the reality that her missing body was not even granted a decent burial. Dead Girls is gripping, saddening and makes you worried about the world we live in today.

In addition to the horrifying details of women simply being killed, Almada makes us reflect on poverty and class on the margins. One wonders why these girls—and all girls—who are victims of casual violence and gendered violence get less attention (in media, by courts, by authorities) than they deserve. I felt angry, but also a sense of shock at the society that we are inhabiting and contributing towards.

Almada writes in her introduction “As I wrote the stories of Andrea, Maria Luìsa and Sarita, fragments of my own life story and those of women I knew began to work their way in. My friends and I were still alive, but we could have been Andrea, Maria Luìsa or Sarita. We were just luckier.” Then later in the epilogue she writes that it has been a month since the new year (2016) and at least ten women (at least because it appeared in the news) have been killed simply because there were women. Almada’s story might be about Argentina. But women’s stories—about being crushed, violated and killed—are universal. This could be Argentina, my country—India—or your country. It could be anyone.

Almada does not write with the beat of your usual investigative journalism. Dead Girls isn’t a police chronicle, nor are there twists and shocks to sensationalize the murders. Rather, the novel unfolds in a quiet crumple which is even more terrifying, even more gut wrenching.
Rating : 4/5

Dead Girls is a journalistic novel about femicides in Argentina in 1980s and the violence against women, especially those at a disadvantage in the social class system. Gripping, shocking and sad. Click To Tweet
Disclaimer : Much thanks to Charco Press for sending a copy of Dead Girls. All opinions are my own.