In an era where fantasy literature often sanitizes colonial history or reduces it to mere backdrop, Rosália Rodrigo’s debut novel Beasts of Carnaval emerges as a bold, unflinching exploration of cultural erasure and reclamation. Set against the backdrop of a fictional Caribbean archipelago reminiscent of colonial-era Puerto Rico, this Gothic fantasy weaves together horror, mystery, and political allegory into a narrative that is as beautiful as it is unsettling.
Rodrigo, whose background in immersive storytelling for museums and theme parks clearly influences her world-building prowess, has crafted something remarkable: a fantasy novel that uses the supernatural not to escape reality, but to illuminate the very real horrors of colonialism and the complex paths toward cultural liberation.
The Labyrinth of Memory and Truth
Beasts of Carnaval follows Sofía, a freedwoman of mixed Taíno and Spanish heritage, as she journeys to the mysterious Isla Bestia in search of her twin brother Sol, who disappeared five years prior while serving as valet to a wealthy Hisperian lord. What she discovers is el Carnaval de Bestias—a hedonistic paradise where wealthy colonizers indulge in endless revelry while something far more sinister operates beneath the surface.
The brilliance of Rodrigo’s plotting lies in how she structures the narrative as a labyrinth, mirroring the physical mazes of Carnaval itself. Sofía’s investigation unfolds through fragmented memories, mysterious journal entries in her own handwriting that she cannot recall creating, and encounters with enigmatic figures like Madame Anani, a fortune-teller who speaks in riddles wrapped in ancestral wisdom.
The mystery deepens as Sofía realizes that Carnaval operates as both trap and stage—a place where colonial oppressors unknowingly participate in their own condemnation while the indigenous Taíno survivors, calling themselves the Taike’ri, orchestrate an elaborate form of cultural and spiritual resistance from the shadows.
Prose That Breathes With Cultural Rhythm
Rodrigo’s writing style deserves particular acclaim for its lyrical sophistication and cultural authenticity. Her prose moves with the rhythm of Caribbean storytelling traditions, shifting seamlessly between the scholarly precision of Sofía’s analytical mind and the mythic cadences of Taíno oral tradition. Consider this passage where Sofía encounters ancestral songs:
“Their singing was no shy canticle for weeping saints, meant for temples of marble and gold, where even whispers echoed like bellows—amplified for the ears of gods afar. This song was harsh and haunting. Grief, melted down and reforged into retribution.”
The language itself becomes a character, with Rodrigo incorporating Taíno words and concepts that resist translation, forcing readers to sit with the untranslatable essence of indigenous experience. Terms like “zemí” (spirit), “Cacika” (chief), and “Taike’ri” (the brave ones) are woven naturally into the narrative, creating a linguistic reclamation that mirrors the cultural one at the story’s heart.
Characters Carved from Complexity
Sofía: The Scholar-Survivor
Sofía stands as one of the most compelling protagonists in recent fantasy literature. Rodrigo has created a character who embodies the intellectual resilience of the colonized—someone who has weaponized literacy and learning against those who would prefer her ignorant. Her scholarly approach to mystery-solving provides a fascinating lens through which to examine both the supernatural elements and the very real historical trauma being processed.
Her relationship with her own cultural identity forms the emotional core of the novel. Raised believing her ancestors were “savages” in need of civilization, Sofía’s journey toward cultural reclamation is neither simple nor complete by the novel’s end—a refreshingly honest portrayal of decolonization as an ongoing process rather than a single moment of awakening.
The Ensemble: Mirrors and Contradictions
The supporting characters function brilliantly as different facets of colonial experience:
Adelina, the wealthy Hisperian heiress who begins as Sofía’s friend and ally, represents the complex position of those who benefit from colonial systems while maintaining personal relationships across racial lines
Sol, Sofía’s twin brother, embodies the painful reality of survival requiring cultural adaptation and sometimes complicity
Kaona, the fierce Taíno leader, presents the moral complexity of revolutionary action when liberation demands violence
Madame Anani, the shapeshifting fortune-teller, serves as both guide and gatekeeper to ancestral knowledge
Each character grapples with questions of loyalty, identity, and survival in ways that resist easy moral categorization.
Where the Gothic Meets the Political
The horror elements in Beasts of Carnaval work on multiple levels simultaneously. On the surface, there’s the psychological terror of memory loss, the claustrophobic atmosphere of the island prison, and the supernatural presence of the island-god itself. But the true horror lies in the historical realities the fantasy elements represent: cultural genocide, forced assimilation, and the psychological violence of colonialism.
Rodrigo’s use of the carnivalesque—that space of temporary reversal where normal social orders are inverted—creates a perfect metaphor for resistance. The Taike’ri have transformed carnival from mere celebration into a weapon of cultural warfare, using performance and spectacle to both preserve their traditions and exact justice from their oppressors.
The island itself emerges as perhaps the most fascinating character—a living zemí that embodies both the nurturing and terrible aspects of the colonized land. It seduces visitors into complacency while simultaneously judging their worthiness, ultimately choosing who lives and dies based on their relationship to the land and its people.
Literary Craftsmanship and Cultural Authority
Rodrigo demonstrates impressive command over multiple literary traditions. The Gothic elements recall the atmospheric dread of Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s work, while the cultural reclamation themes echo writers like N.K. Jemisin and Rebecca Roanhorse. However, Rodrigo’s voice remains distinctly her own, grounded in her Puerto Rican heritage and experience in immersive storytelling.
The author’s background as a DEIA consultant in cultural institutions clearly informs her nuanced handling of representation. Rather than appropriating or romanticizing indigenous culture, she writes from lived experience and extensive research, creating authentic cultural elements that serve the story rather than exploiting it for exotic flavor.
Critical Considerations: Where Ambition Meets Execution
While Beasts of Carnaval succeeds brilliantly in many areas, it occasionally stumbles under the weight of its own ambitious scope. The middle section, where Sofía experiences extended memory loss, sometimes feels deliberately frustrating in ways that distance readers from the protagonist’s journey. While this certainly serves the thematic purpose of illustrating the disorienting effects of cultural trauma, it can make for challenging reading.
The resolution, though emotionally satisfying, relies heavily on deus ex machina elements that some readers may find unsatisfying. The island-god’s intervention, while thematically appropriate, shortcuts some of the character development that might have made the climax more earned through human agency alone.
Additionally, certain secondary characters—particularly some of the Carnaval patrons—occasionally feel more like symbolic representations than fully realized individuals. While this serves the allegorical purposes of the narrative, it sometimes reduces the emotional impact of their fates.
Themes That Resonate Beyond the Page
Cultural Resurrection as Resistance
The novel’s exploration of how colonized peoples preserve and reclaim their cultural identities operates on multiple levels. The Taike’ri’s use of performance and ritual to maintain their traditions while hidden in plain sight reflects real historical strategies of cultural survival. Rodrigo shows how resistance isn’t always violent revolt—sometimes it’s the quiet preservation of language, story, and ceremony.
The Psychology of Colonialism
Perhaps most powerfully, the book examines how colonialism operates not just through physical violence but through psychological manipulation. Sofía’s internalized beliefs about her ancestors, her struggle to trust her own perceptions, and her complicated relationship with education as both liberation and assimilation tool all speak to the lasting psychological impacts of colonial systems.
Paradise as Prison
The novel’s deconstruction of the tropical paradise narrative is particularly relevant in our current moment of “dark tourism” and colonial nostalgia. Carnaval’s seductive beauty masks systems of exploitation, forcing readers to question whose paradise we’re celebrating and at whose expense.
Comparable Literary Landscapes
Readers who appreciate Beasts of Carnaval will likely enjoy:
The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab for its exploration of memory, identity, and the price of survival
Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Moreno-Garcia for its blend of mythology, cultural identity, and atmospheric horror
Trail of Lightning by Rebecca Roanhorse for its unflinching examination of colonialism through a fantastical lens
The Seventh Sun by Lani Forbes for its Mesoamerican-inspired worldbuilding and themes of cultural preservation
The Goblin Emperor by Katherine Addison for its court intrigue and examination of power structures
Ring Shout by P. Djèlí Clark for its use of supernatural horror to address historical trauma
Final Verdict: A Necessary and Powerful Debut
Beasts of Carnaval announces Rosália Rodrigo as a significant new voice in fantasy literature. This is a book that refuses to let readers remain comfortable, challenging us to examine the pretty lies we tell ourselves about history, paradise, and progress. While it may occasionally prioritize thematic ambition over narrative smoothness, the overall achievement is remarkable.
This novel succeeds not just as entertainment but as cultural work—the kind of story that changes how we see the world. In an era when fantasy literature is increasingly grappling with its colonial roots, Rodrigo offers a path forward: not through erasure or sanitization, but through honest reckoning with the past and imagination of different futures.
The book’s greatest strength lies in its refusal to provide simple answers. Liberation comes at a cost, revolution demands sacrifice, and healing requires breaking before rebuilding. These are uncomfortable truths, but they’re rendered with such beauty and complexity that readers emerge not just entertained, but transformed.
For readers seeking fantasy that challenges as much as it enchants, Beasts of Carnaval is essential reading. Rodrigo has created something rare: a debut novel that feels both timely and timeless, rooted in specific cultural experience yet universal in its exploration of identity, resistance, and the power of reclaimed stories.
This is the kind of book that stays with you long after the final page, continuing to unfold its meanings like the island’s own magical revelations. In a literary landscape often dominated by familiar European-inspired fantasies, Beasts of Carnaval offers something genuinely fresh: a vision of fantasy grounded in Caribbean reality, where the most powerful magic is the simple act of remembering who you truly are.