Cover

International Praise for Humiliation

“A debut that marks the arrival of a powerful figure in Chilean letters . . . We must celebrate it wholeheartedly.”

—JUAN ANTONIO MASOLIVER RÓDENAS, Cultura/s, La Vanguardia

“Every once in a while one encounters a new voice and thinks: they will last . . . Twelve months from now, Humiliation will still be one of the best books of the year.”

—JAVIER RODRÍGUEZ MARCOS, El País

“Fiction that is as alive as Chekov’s and as vibrant as Munro’s.”

—CARLOS PARDO, Babelia

“Nine perfect stories that form an extraordinary collection.”

—ALOMA RODRÍGUEZ, Letras Libres

“While Paulina Flores’s approach is radically political, her stories explore a world of nuance and complexity, brought to life through the author’s relentless quest for the humanity in each of her characters.”

—LORENA G. MALDONADO, El Español

“The great surprise of contemporary Chilean letters descends onto Spain, endorsed by Alejandro Zambra, with a brilliant and daring collection of stories.”

—INÉS MARTÍN RODRIGO, ABC

“With elegance, strength, and the eye of a hunter, Paulina Flores writes as though she’s lived twice as long as her age.”

—KARINA SAINZ BORGO, Vozpópuli

“Some of the characters call to mind Lorrie Moore’s early books.”

—Diario Ahora

“Flores’s style is minimalist and sparse, deprived of artificiality, aiming straight at the heart.”

—Libros y Literatura

“Paulina Flores’s vision is unique and, like only good literature can, it will confront, disturb, and dazzle you.”

—Mujer Hoy

“Stories through which life flows with astonishing ease.”

—RAMÓN ROZAS, Librújula

“A work that is as original as it is strong, as it is delicate.”

—GEMA BEGEGA, TenMag

Title Page

Dedication

For Elizabeth

Humiliation

Humiliation

Are we almost there?” moaned Pía. “I’m tired.”

Simona watched her younger sister panting and dragging her feet. “Shhhh,” she said, “quit whining.”

They had been walking for over an hour on the side of the street where the sun beat down hardest. Their father was a few steps ahead. He had realized too late that the shade was on the other side, and the cars speeding down Bellavista wouldn’t let them cross now. In any case, the uneven number they were looking for was on this side, the sunny one, and they were nearly at their destination.

“Dad! I’m tired!” said Pía, and she sat down on the hot ground with her legs outstretched.

Simona watched her father. He didn’t seem to hear Pía and went on walking.

“Dad!” Pía shouted.

This time he turned around, came back, and picked her up. As he went on walking resignedly, Pía’s head peeked over her father’s shoulder like a puppet taking the stage. She hugged his neck tightly and smiled in victory.