Book Review: Salvación by Amanda Hernández
When I first came across Salvación, I felt an immediate pull—not just from its enchanting cover but also from the promise of a unique story blending historical fiction and magical realism. Amanda Hernández’s debut intrigued me, and I was eager to dive into the world of Lola de Peña, a young woman navigating the complexities of identity, vigilante justice, and her own internal struggles. However, what unfolded left me disheartened.
At its core, Salvación attempts to tackle weighty themes like internalized misogyny and cultural identity in a fragile historical context. Lola, both as herself and her alter ego, Salvación, grapples with societal norms and self-acceptance. Yet, despite the profound subject matter, I found myself increasingly disconnected from Lola’s journey. Her character fails to evolve convincingly, often coming across as riddled with contradictions that made her hard to sympathize with.
One striking aspect was her inner conflict about femininity and societal expectations. As she reflects on her childhood experiences with dress and gender expectations, the dialogue felt more like a checklist of feminist thoughts rather than a genuinely fleshed-out character arc. The moment where she contemplates her dislike for dresses while simultaneously considering male approval was bewildering and left me wondering: Was this a commentary on the struggle with femininity, or simply an oversimplified narrative? The absence of well-developed female characters only amplified my doubts about her growth and the book’s overall message.
The prose itself was surprisingly stilted—dialogue often felt wooden, and character interactions lacked the depth that could have elevated the narrative. The pacing of the story was awkward, feeling both drawn-out and superficial. High stakes were mentioned but seldom realized, leaving me with a lingering sense of unfulfillment. Moments intended to be thrilling were sidelined, and I often felt as if I were reading a series of diary entries rather than being deeply engaged in a story.
Perhaps the most frustrating part was the vague treatment of the historical context. While I appreciate that historical fiction sometimes takes creative liberties, the lack of immersive detail made it hard to root myself in the setting. The magic system involving sal was conceptually intriguing, but the lack of clear rules diluted its potential significance. It seemed like an afterthought rather than a critical element weaving the narrative together.
As for the romance between Lola and Alejandro, it felt undercooked. Their chemistry seemed to flicker and die before it ever truly ignited, leaving me longing for a dynamic that never materialized. The relationship echoed a pattern of disappointing interactions that fell flat, further diminishing my connection to the characters.
Despite my grievances, I believe Salvación may resonate with readers who enjoy stories of self-discovery and cultural exploration, albeit with caution regarding its intricate themes. For those seeking a gripping plot or well-rounded characters, this might not be the tale to pursue.
In conclusion, while Salvación had the seeds of promise, it needed more time to cultivate a rich and deeply engaging narrative. Although this journey left me yearning for a stronger connection, I appreciate the chance to ponder and critique its complex themes. Perhaps others will find more in its pages, and I hope they can appreciate its intentions, even if it missed the mark for me.
