Jamie Figueroa’s debut novel, Brother, Sister, Mother, Explorer, follows brother and sister, Rafa and Rufina, as they navigate the grief following their mother’s death. When Rafa becomes depressed and suicidal, Rufina makes a deal with him: if they can make enough money performing for tourists (something they did as children) to buy plane tickets out of their hometown of Ciudad de Tres Hermanas, Rafa must choose to continue living. When he agrees to this deal, the two spend the weekend performing for privileged tourists, dealing with the ghosts of their mother and Rufina’s missing baby, and reflecting on their childhood abuse. Brother, Sister, Mother, Explorer deals with multiple heavy topics simultaneously: the loss of a mother, the loss of a child, abuse in various forms, familial relationships, generational trauma, and the Othering of people of color. These themes work together to create a difficult and devastating read.

Figueroa’s writing is poetic and is what makes the novel most engaging. She has a peculiar way of creating imagery—something that works well for a ghost story. For example, the ghost of the mother lays out dishes on the floor in an attempt to find her way back to herself. It’s a map of sorts as she navigates her own grief after losing her life. This kind of imagery creates a beautiful interaction between Rufina and her mother: the mother lays out the dishes and Rufina can hear them crash and clang.

While the grief that Rufina and Rafa experience gives each of them a strong backstory. the narrative relies too heavily on their trauma and not enough on their healing. It is easy to empathize with Rufina and Rafa because of the abuse they have suffered, but it becomes increasingly more frustrating to read about their despair as they do nothing to heal from it. Moreover, because Figueroa never really offers the reader a break from the dark themes and detailed descriptions of abuse, Brother, Sister, Mother, Explorer is a taxing read. The only times the novel offers the semblance of relief are during Rufina and Rafa’s performances and even those are packed with trauma. During these performances, the white tourists treat Rufina and Rafa as exotic: something that both “excites and frustrates” them. This speaks to the Othering the siblings endure as natives in a tourist town. Essentially, they are a commodity for white tourists.

My biggest criticism of the novel has little to do with the narrative itself, but rather with its setting. While reading through the novel, it occurred to me that it does not explicitly state where the fictional Ciudad de Tres Hermanas is meant to be located, but context clues indicate that it was meant to take place in the area where I’ve resided all my life: Northern New Mexico. Figueroa writes of “Southwest spice-flavored piñon nuts”, Zia-symbol-adorned T-shirts, and a plaza filled with “Chicano Kings”, mariachi bands, and women donning red lipstick. All these descriptors read exactly like a stereotype of Santa Fe, which is perpetuated by tourists. To my disappointment, the novel seems to perpetuate this stereotype, despite its attempt at standing against the Othering of natives by tourists.

Figueroa affirms my belief that Ciudad de Tres Hermanas is a fictionalized Santa Fe in an interview with Literary Hub, where she states, “Having a fictional twin of Santa Fe allowed me to have a respectful distance and honor all of those to whom this place truly and rightfully belongs, those whose creation stories originate here.” While I understand the attempt to create a “respectful distance” by fictionalizing the town, I believe it has the opposite effect from what Figueroa intended. The issue is that this distance erases the real place that inspired it. This erasure is largely problematic because Santa Fe is a place that has been facing gentrification for decades. Erasure is gentrification, and thus the fictional Ciudad de Tres Hermanas plays directly into that. Essentially, Figueroa recognizes that she cannot speak for the people who originate from Northern New Mexico but still does so by giving it a fictional name and reducing it to its stereotype.

Brother, Sister, Mother, Explorer is a well-written novel, but it is exhausting to read because of its dark themes of abuse, suicide, grief, generational trauma, and the Othering of people of color. Beyond its dark subject matter, my biggest criticism of it stems from its representation of Northern New Mexico. While Figueroa tries to point out the Othering of the Rufina and Rafa by tourists, the reduction of Santa Fe to a stereotype nullifies that point. In effect, the novel does to the real city of Santa Fe what the fictional tourists do to Rufina and Rafa: makes it “exotic”. Finally, after making the reader suffer alongside Rufina and Rafa, the novel offers no release or satisfaction in its ending. Essentially, Brother, Sister, Mother, Explorer attempts to do too much and is perhaps the reason it falls short.