Tiny Threads by Lilliam Rivera
Big thanks to Penguin Random House and Netgalley for sending
me an advanced copy of Lilliam Rivera’s new psychological horror novel TinyThreads. I previously reviewed Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s Silver Nitrate,
and a representative from Penguin Random House sent Rivera’s book due to my
interest in Moreno-Garcia’s book. I’m so glad that they sent this book because it
was an entertaining and creepy read. Initially, I was a little concerned that a
book about the fashion industry might not be that appealing to me; however, as
I began to read, I really identified with Samara’s quest to redefine herself
through her work for the designer Antonio Mota and a relocation to southern
California, away from her family and possible past traumas that she is
unwilling or unready to address. Samara does have a personal connection with
the town of Vernon, an industrial/textile manufacturing town that has recently
undergone some gentrification, partly the result of Antonio’s relocating his
fashion empire here. Samara’s grandmother was also a seamstress in the town,
and Samara’s memories of her grandmother and her stories play an integral role
in the novel.
Antonio’s House of Mota brand is not all that it seems to
be, and while Samara does make some friends in her new place of employment, the
Mota’s toxicity gradually reveals itself through unrealistic expectations and
temper tantrums. Furthermore, Samara notes the divisions in place between the
designers and production staff and the seamstresses, most of whom are Latina
workers. She also begins to recognize other Latinx workers in areas like the
slaughterhouse. Nevertheless, she seeks to include them in Mota’s re-launching
of his line as Antonio attempts to reestablish himself as a player in the
fashion industry. As part of Samara’s work, she has access to the Mota
archives, where she learns more about the history of Vernon and the women whose
labor helped to make Mota a well-recognized brand. As she explores Vernon’s
history, Samara begins to hear and see strange things, starting with her visit
to Marisa’s gallery, a local Vernon artist. Marisa’s art contains images of Latina’s
cut in half, both shocking and intriguing Samara. This, along with her struggle
to adapt to the toxic work culture, seems to be what begins Samara’s descent into
mental instability… that and her drinking problem. Samara’s challenges and
desire to prove herself were both relatable and hard to watch. I related to her
challenges of dealing with a difficult to please boss who expects much but
doesn’t offer much in direction or feedback. I also related to her desire to
carve out an identity as a writer and designer in a new field for her. What was
sad to watch was how Samara’s desire to fit in and adhere to the Mota house’s
toxicity gradually allowed her to lose her own identity. I think this is also where
her drinking really picked up as she sought to cover up both her own personal
trauma from the past, as well as the generational/cultural trauma from the many
different Latinas who helped to shape Vernon and make it a textile capital.
Marisa’s art, as well as the haunting visions and sounds Samara experiences
throughout the novel, both disturb and remind Samara of these unspoken violence
throughout history.
In addition to the cultural trauma, Samara also experiences
misogyny and assault as a woman. Beyond Marisa’s striking images, Samara also
encounters men who, as her Abuela reminded her, present a kind of mask that
hides their true intentions. Rivera’s use of animal imagery, from wolves to
pigs, throughout the novel helps to illustrate this kind of false or hidden
duality. In addition to the animal symbolism, I really enjoyed Rivera’s use of
Spanish throughout the novel as well as the pop culture and literary references
to music, songs, and poetry. During my reading, I was checking the meaning of words
and phrases, as well as looking up some song lyrics and authors she mentioned
in the book. Like the town of Vernon, Little Threads has a lot to offer
if you are willing to delve below the surface. While what you may find is not
always pleasant, in Samara’s experience, Rivera’s novel reminds us of the
importance of opening that door and exploring the past as well as how creative
folks like Samara and Marisa can provide a voice to those who are denied voices
due to cultural, gender, sexual, or economic violence. While I loved this book,
the one thing I would have liked to see revisited somewhat is the
introduction/prologue. There’s an implication that the boxing match the woman
watched took place at Samara’s new apartment building, but I was hoping that
there would be more mention of this event. It’s a shocking way to begin the
novel, but there wasn’t more explicit mention of it. I think that some of the
other events that Samara experiences, which I won’t reveal, were connected to
this beginning, but I was hoping for more specific references. Nevertheless, this
was an entertaining book that I couldn’t put down. I know that Rivera writes
for different audiences, but I’m hoping that she produces more psychological
horror like this one.
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