Desperado

Nick was fighting his way from deep under the sea. When he opened his eyes, the danger had passed, everything swam, blue and beautiful. If he could just shake the water from his skin, he would emerge. He had to break the surface. They might still be waiting, anywhere.

This is Nick, aka "the writer", emerging from an Ipazine trip that he didn't particularly want to take. In a way, I feel like it's an appropriate characterization of the entire second half of Joy Nicholson's The Road to Esmeralda. The novel begins as a journey into a relationship that is falling apart: the semi-alcoholic writer whose father psychologically abused him and who can't for the life of him get a decent page down, the angelic girlfriend who keeps secrets and may or may not be starting an affair with their German expat innkeeper. Nick seems paranoid, but Nicholson hints that he may have reason to be so.

And then, like falling down a rabbit hole, the tale, strange enough as it already is, takes an entirely different direction. Nick and Sarah's relationship may have been front and center before, but now it is just one aspect of the intrigue and crime of a small Mexican town, its drug runners, political rivalries, business opportunities, and violence.

I preferred the first half. I understood Nick, found him an interesting character. I think Nicholson liked him too - he is so flawed and complete. Then everything just gets wacky and confused. It was a very effective evocation of the madness of the plot, but it was also utterly exhausting. Just thinking of it now reminds me that it's getting close to bedtime...