"If you had been loved, Eduardo, you would know that it is never fortunate to be loved by a woman."

So says Joaquín Buitrago, protagonist of Cristina Rivera-Garza's novel No One Will See Me Cry. Whether or not Joaquín actually believes his own statement is questionable; while he has been ill-used by the women in his life, he is also fixated on telling their stories and reliving their time together. If he is indeed scarred, he also loves his scars, and the women from whom they came.

Obsession characterizes Joaquín, a morphine addict whose career as a photographer is failing. Putting his creative aspirations aside, he now takes photos of the inmates of the Castañeda Insane Asylum in Mexico. One patient, Matilda Burgos, is strikingly familiar. Joaquín is certain that she is a prostitute he knew many years ago, when brothels allowed him to take "artistic" pictures of naked women. Soon Joaquín is preoccupied with learning all that he can about Matilda, and the two tell their respective stories in turn.

Rivera-Garza infuses her characters with a desire to better their lives. The doctor at the asylum views himself as a brilliant physician whose career is on the rise. Being the head of a hospital for the insane is merely a stepping stone, a payment of sorts, before becoming a successful surgeon in the United States. Matilda is exposed to revolutionary ideas as a young woman, and she escapes the repressive atmosphere of her wealthy uncle's house to make her mark on the world.

Underlying this sense of betterment is the reader's knowledge that these characters are trapped in the world of the asylum. As Matilda relates her youthful need for freedom, we see her aged form held hostage, both by doctors and her own mental instability. Joaquín's dependence on morphine, coupled with his obsession for Matilda, mean that he will remain in the world of the insane—indeed, he even moves into an empty room usually occupied by an inmate. Interspersed with Matilda's story are the histories of several patients; these medical records add to the power of the asylum, as people are shown entering, but rarely leaving, its walls.

Rivera-Garza's writing is thick, heavy prose that relies a great deal on metaphors. The thoughts of characters are complex monologues that require an attentive, engaged reader. Like the doctor at the asylum, we are diagnosticians, trying to understand the illnesses of the inmates. To aid us in this role, Rivera-Garza gives lessons in the history of psychiatry, and the political troubles of Mexico in the early twentieth century.

No One Will See Me Cry is a challenging, worthwhile read. It requires a great deal of its readers, as we wade through the monologues of Matilda and Joaquín, attempting to divide the truth from the lunacy—if such a divide even exists.