Self-delusion, hallucinations, anger, volatility chafe against the soothing waters and the stars above, and González, one of South America's most acclaimed and pitch-perfect novelists, plunges you into the brutality of man and nature alike.

González’s last two novels, Difficult Light and The Storm were both hailed as quiet masterpieces at the time of their publication in Colombia . . . Through all his work you find the peaceful writing that admirably traces the ugliness of the world; the confidence of the narrative voice, seemingly conventional while eschewing the straitjackets of realism . . . He has a mysterious ability to uplift the commonplace and turn it into unforgettable images through careful observation and sensuous detail.

González invokes both Hemingway and Faulkner in his treatment of tortured family dynamics and laces the three - way banter in the boat with a fascinating, near - toxic atmosphere of machismo.

In Andrea Rosenberg’s translation, the author’s stylistic traits – short and pointed phrases, poetic descriptions and poetic monologues – shine and linger in the reader’s ear . . . The Storm arrives as a welcome addition to the international recognition of one Colombia’s most prolific and poetic writers.

Difficult Light by Tomás González is about an old painter rapidly turning blind, mediating on one of the most impactful events in his life, the death of his oldest son Jacobo...counting down the minutes to the scheduled death of this beloved son, which could be called off at any moment, if the son wished to do so, is part of the strange thrill of the book. As the implications for the looming deadline become more clear, the countdown adds a slightly perverted sense of suspense.