Is this poetry? No; it’s very well written. Is this an erotic novel? No, although it depicts some of the darkest and even abyect desires. Is this horror? No, it produce discomfort and disgust in the way of torture-porn horror cinema, without saying that even that kind of cinema produce some masterpieces. Is it good? It’s sickengly good, so much that one might wonder how it got through these “politically correct” times. It’s a fact that when women take this kind of stories, they take them to unthinkable limits, and Ms Ojeda does pull a sordid argument beyond the limits. Beware: this novel is NOT for the feint of heart. Really.