From the visionary author of Sudden Death, You Dreamed Of Empires is a hallucinatory, revelatory, colonial revenge story. One morning in 1519, conquistador Hernán Cortés entered the city of Tenochtitlan – today's Mexico City. Later that day, he would meet the emperor Moctezuma in a collision of two worlds, two empires, two languages, two possible futures.

Cortés was accompanied by his nine captains, his troops, and his two translators: Friar Aguilar, a taciturn, former slave, and Malinalli, a strategic, former princess. Greeted at a ceremonial welcome meal by the steely princess Atotoxli, sister and wife of Moctezuma, the Spanish nearly bungle their entrance to the city. As they await their meeting with Moctezuma – who is at a political, spiritual, and physical crossroads, and relies on hallucinogens to get himself through the day and in quest for any kind of answer from the gods – the Spanish are ensconced in the labyrinthine palace.

Soon, one of Cortés's captains, Jazmín Caldera, overwhelmed by the grandeur of the city, begins to question the ease with which they were welcomed into the city, and wonders at the risks of getting out alive, much less conquering the empire. You Dreamed Of Empires brings to life Tenochtitlan at its height, and reimagines its destiny. The incomparably original Alvaro Enrigue sets afire the moment of conquest and turns it into a moment of revolution, a restitutive, fantastical counter-attack, in a novel so electric and so unique that it feels like a dream.

After receiving a frantic letter from her newly-wed cousin begging for someone to save her from a mysterious doom, Noemí Taboada heads to High Place, a distant house in the Mexican countryside. She's not sure what she will find—her cousin's husband, a handsome Englishman, is a stranger, and Noemí knows little about the region.

Noemí is also an unlikely rescuer: She's a glamorous debutante, and her chic gowns and perfect red lipstick are more suited for cocktail parties than amateur sleuthing. But she's also tough and smart, with an indomitable will, and she is not afraid: Not of her cousin's new husband, who is both menacing and alluring; not of his father, the ancient patriarch who seems to be fascinated by Noemí; and not even of the house itself, which begins to invade Noemí's dreams with visions of blood and doom.

Her only ally in this inhospitable abode is the family's youngest son. Shy and gentle, he seems to want to help Noemí, but might also be hiding dark knowledge of his family's past. For there are many secrets behind the walls of High Place. The family's once colossal wealth and faded mining empire kept them from prying eyes, but as Noemí digs deeper she unearths stories of violence and madness.

And Noemí, mesmerized by the terrifying yet seductive world of High Place, may soon find it impossible to ever leave this enigmatic house behind.

Casas vacías habla del dolor de las mujeres ante la desaparición de un hijo y de su propia vida. Es una novela que también cuestiona la maternidad y abre la posibilidad de un diálogo sobre cómo se enfrentan las maternidades no solicitadas y que son impuestas socialmente. La maternidad, que casi siempre asociamos con la felicidad, también puede ser una pesadilla: la de una mujer cuyo hijo desaparece en el parque donde estaba jugando, y la de aquella otra mujer que se lo lleva para criarlo como propio

Brenda Navarro ha conseguido un prodigio: caminar siempre, sin caerse nunca, sobre la delgada línea que separa –pero también une– el olvido y la memoria, la esperanza y la depresión, la vida privada y la vida pública, la pérdida y el encuentro, los cuerpos de las mujeres y el acto político. Casas vacías estremece de forma tan devastadora como ilumina: brillante y extrañamente esperanzadora.