“Book Descriptions: It was dark in the centre, olive green, and its edges were lighter. I separated the skin where I had cut myself and saw that the green went down and into the flesh.
Twenty-four hours before her daughter’s wedding, Constanza discovers a green spot – ‘irregular in form and velvety to the touch’ – at the top of her left leg. She has things to do: the wedding dress to finish, family problems. Meanwhile, the spot grows, threatening to take over her whole body.
‘This extraordinary tale of sex and death, with its seamless shifts between present and past, feels timeless. Fantasy, fact? “I don’t like surprises,” the narrator says, and since the last one had been an affair between my husband and my niece, I was not feeling in the mood for another one.” Mildew, by a gifted new Latin American writer, has weight, yet is told with a lightness Calvino would have admired.’ – Beverley Bie Brahic” DRIVE
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