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A Flower Traveled in My Blood: The Incredible True Story of the Grandmothers Who Fought to Find a Stolen Generation of Children
For readers of Say Nothing and The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, the epic, true story of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo, grandmothers who fought to find their stolen grandchildren during Argentina’s brutal dictatorship.
In the early hours of March 24th, 1976, the streets of Buenos Aires rumbled with tanks as soldiers seized the presidential palace, overthrowing Argentina’s leader. To many, it seemed like just another coup in a continent troubled by them, amid political violence and Cold War tensions. But there was something darker about this new regime. Quietly supported by the United States and much of Argentina itself, which was sick of constant bombings and gunfights, the junta quickly launched the “National Reorganization Process” or El Proceso—a bland name masking their ruthless campaign to crush the political left and instill the country with “Western, Christian” values. The dictatorship, which continued until 1983, decimated a generation.
One of the military’s most diabolical acts was the disappearance of hundreds of pregnant women. Patricia Roisinblit was among them, a mother and leftist revolutionary labeled “subversive” and abducted while eight months pregnant with her second child. Patricia gave birth in captivity, making one last call to her mother, Rosa, before vanishing. Her newborn son was also taken, one of hundreds given to police, military families, and dictatorship supporters, while their biological parents were secretly executed and their bodies disposed of. For Rosa and the other mothers in her same situation, the loss was unimaginable; their only solace was the hope that their grandchildren were still alive. United by this faith, a group of fierce grandmothers formed the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo, dedicated to finding the stolen children and seeking justice from a nation that betrayed them.
A Flower Traveled in My Blood is Rosa and the Abuelas’ extraordinary story, told by a journalist with unique access. With authority and compassion, Haley Cohen Gilliland brings this tale to life, tracing the lives of Patricia, Rosa, and her stolen grandson, Guillermo. As the Abuelas transform into detectives, they confront military officers, sift through government documents, assume aliases to see suspected grandchildren, and even pioneer a groundbreaking genetics test with an American scientist.
A compelling mystery and deeply researched account of a pivotal era in world history, A Flower Traveled in My Blood takes readers on a journey of love, resilience, and redemption, revealing new truths about memory, identity, and family.
In the early hours of March 24th, 1976, the streets of Buenos Aires rumbled with tanks as soldiers seized the presidential palace, overthrowing Argentina’s leader. To many, it seemed like just another coup in a continent troubled by them, amid political violence and Cold War tensions. But there was something darker about this new regime. Quietly supported by the United States and much of Argentina itself, which was sick of constant bombings and gunfights, the junta quickly launched the “National Reorganization Process” or El Proceso—a bland name masking their ruthless campaign to crush the political left and instill the country with “Western, Christian” values. The dictatorship, which continued until 1983, decimated a generation.
One of the military’s most diabolical acts was the disappearance of hundreds of pregnant women. Patricia Roisinblit was among them, a mother and leftist revolutionary labeled “subversive” and abducted while eight months pregnant with her second child. Patricia gave birth in captivity, making one last call to her mother, Rosa, before vanishing. Her newborn son was also taken, one of hundreds given to police, military families, and dictatorship supporters, while their biological parents were secretly executed and their bodies disposed of. For Rosa and the other mothers in her same situation, the loss was unimaginable; their only solace was the hope that their grandchildren were still alive. United by this faith, a group of fierce grandmothers formed the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo, dedicated to finding the stolen children and seeking justice from a nation that betrayed them.
A Flower Traveled in My Blood is Rosa and the Abuelas’ extraordinary story, told by a journalist with unique access. With authority and compassion, Haley Cohen Gilliland brings this tale to life, tracing the lives of Patricia, Rosa, and her stolen grandson, Guillermo. As the Abuelas transform into detectives, they confront military officers, sift through government documents, assume aliases to see suspected grandchildren, and even pioneer a groundbreaking genetics test with an American scientist.
A compelling mystery and deeply researched account of a pivotal era in world history, A Flower Traveled in My Blood takes readers on a journey of love, resilience, and redemption, revealing new truths about memory, identity, and family.
512 pages, Hardcover
First published July 15, 2025
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 113 reviews
April 23, 2025
Wow, this book is absolutely astounding. I’m walking through this world of Abuelas trying to save their little loved ones and it is heartbreaking. The tenacity of these women!!
I highly enjoy learning about history, especially when written as almost a novel. This lacks the full novel feeling but the story of the people that disappeared in Argentina and the Abuela’s that were driven to find their missing family was inspiring.
Be prepared to be shocked, dismayed, heartbroken and full of hope. The author seems to have done a really good job at performing in depth research. This story consists of multi-narrative sections so it feels like you are fully immersed in the story. This is history that I found fascinating as much as I did saddening.
If you like non-fiction, history, stories of tyrannical governments and the people that lived under them, read this.
Thank you to the author and publisher for this ARC!
I highly enjoy learning about history, especially when written as almost a novel. This lacks the full novel feeling but the story of the people that disappeared in Argentina and the Abuela’s that were driven to find their missing family was inspiring.
Be prepared to be shocked, dismayed, heartbroken and full of hope. The author seems to have done a really good job at performing in depth research. This story consists of multi-narrative sections so it feels like you are fully immersed in the story. This is history that I found fascinating as much as I did saddening.
If you like non-fiction, history, stories of tyrannical governments and the people that lived under them, read this.
Thank you to the author and publisher for this ARC!
July 10, 2025
This book is a feat of journalism and research. You can just tell the amount of care and respect that went into the process and every detail. I appreciated the depth of the book and the amount of history that is packed in. It did read as long and in spots I wished Gilliland would tighten things up, but overall that desire felt small compared to all that is in this book. She does a great job giving us the many perspectives and balancing the ethical quandaries in play. Plus I knew very very little going in and she is patient with her reader to make sure we get all the pieces -- while still giving us a strong narrative to latch on to.
May 7, 2025
I like my books to be messy. Not the writing obviously, but in the underlying issues brought up naturally by the story. There is something about a narrative that makes you wonder, "Well, what would I have done? What is the right answer in this situation?" An exceptional example of this is A Flower Traveled in My Blood by Haley Cohen Gilliland. I still don't know what I would have done, and I know I don't have a right answer.
Gilliland looks at Argentina from the 1970s to today. Specifically, violent and murderous government officials were kidnapping suspected anti-junta actors and making them disappear. In the middle of this violence, hundreds of babies were taken forcefully from their parents and handed to friends of the government. Their birth parents would never be seen again. The main characters of the story become the grandmothers who take it upon themselves to find their grandchildren and take on the government. There are many superlative things I can say about Gilliland's writing, but the most important part is how she seamlessly integrates a multitude of ideas, people, and events. In the wrong hands, this book would be 600 pages that would be impossible to follow. The author has an eye for details which allow her to quickly imprint her characters in the reader's mind without slowing down. I can not overstate how well this book flows considering the 50+ year timeline and the amount of people to keep track of.
If this all sounds like a lot, well it is, but the heartbreak doesn't end when the grandmothers start to find their grandchildren. Instead, a moral question becomes a major problem. What if these children don't want to have their world shattered by finding out their parents are actually not their parents? If these adoptive parents honestly adopted these children thinking it was all legal, then can they have these kids ripped from the only home they have ever truly known? However, if the truth isn't uncovered, do the kidnappers evade justice?
Atop all of this drama is also the question of how a country moves on from extreme generational trauma. Can society move on if trials seem never-ending? If a moratorium is placed on past crimes, can there ever be justice? Gilliland lays this all out for the reader without moralizing. It's the best way to go about it in my mind and it makes this one of the best books I have read this year.
(This book was provided as an advance reader copy by NetGalley and Avid Reader Press.)
Gilliland looks at Argentina from the 1970s to today. Specifically, violent and murderous government officials were kidnapping suspected anti-junta actors and making them disappear. In the middle of this violence, hundreds of babies were taken forcefully from their parents and handed to friends of the government. Their birth parents would never be seen again. The main characters of the story become the grandmothers who take it upon themselves to find their grandchildren and take on the government. There are many superlative things I can say about Gilliland's writing, but the most important part is how she seamlessly integrates a multitude of ideas, people, and events. In the wrong hands, this book would be 600 pages that would be impossible to follow. The author has an eye for details which allow her to quickly imprint her characters in the reader's mind without slowing down. I can not overstate how well this book flows considering the 50+ year timeline and the amount of people to keep track of.
If this all sounds like a lot, well it is, but the heartbreak doesn't end when the grandmothers start to find their grandchildren. Instead, a moral question becomes a major problem. What if these children don't want to have their world shattered by finding out their parents are actually not their parents? If these adoptive parents honestly adopted these children thinking it was all legal, then can they have these kids ripped from the only home they have ever truly known? However, if the truth isn't uncovered, do the kidnappers evade justice?
Atop all of this drama is also the question of how a country moves on from extreme generational trauma. Can society move on if trials seem never-ending? If a moratorium is placed on past crimes, can there ever be justice? Gilliland lays this all out for the reader without moralizing. It's the best way to go about it in my mind and it makes this one of the best books I have read this year.
(This book was provided as an advance reader copy by NetGalley and Avid Reader Press.)
July 17, 2025
Pre-Read Notes:
honestly, the title and subtitle of this one grabbed me right off. I like this kind of history, in which a people fight fiercely for their own.
"“If you keep searching for Néstor, I’m leaving.” Azucena stared at him evenly, then replied, “Want me to pack your suitcase?”" p114
Final Review
(thoughts & recs) Some histories require the naming and discussing of dozens or even hundreds of people. Some histories don't require the naming of any people, or maybe very few of them. This book is one of the former, and knew from the beginning of the book that I would be lost the entire time. The author's research is clearly excellent, but I felt like I was at a party with a thousand people I'd met before but didn't remember who anyone was. This might have been due to the organization, as this narrative includes a great deal of information on a wide array of subjects. It may have a bit of an identity crisis also, as this book isn't only about the kidnapped children, but about many many different atrocities that took place during this time in Argentina's history.
Despite these minor quibbles, I recommend this eye-opening history to readers of true crime books, bizarre history, and the history of Argentina in the 1970's and 80's.
My 3 Favorite Things:
✔️ I loved the timeline of historical events and glossary at the beginning of the book. It really makes the setting concrete and promotes clarity in reading.
✔️ "The toddlers were also taken, shuffled between clandestine prisons in Buenos Aires and Montevideo. Ultimately, the children were flown to Chile on a small aircraft. Having never been on a plane before, four-year-old Anatole asked to enter the cockpit, and he would later recall staring down at the snowy tips of the Andes from the windshield. On December 22, a large black car with tinted windows transported the siblings to a plaza in the Chilean port city of Valparaiso. Before they knew what was happening, they were pushed onto the pavement and the car sped off, leaving them alone." p137 Abhorrent. Sometimes I just can't *process* the kinds of things humans do to each other and the world.
✔️ This is an extremely detailed account of something that happened to a people over a significant length of time. Locating and identifying the children that disappeared in this history took the Abuelas years, sometimes decades. Time passing complicated the apparent ethics of the case-- a critical public wondered how it could ever be best to remove children from families they'd already grown up with. It's a complicated case. This is quite a long book as a result, but I think with better organization, 50 to 75 pages could have been cut.
✔️ "“For twenty-two years they were my parents and I love them.”" p286 Holy crap these poor people.
Notes:
1. content notes: political upheaval, martial law, protests and demonstration, police/military, racism, ethnic cleansing, political kidnapping, abduction, violence against women, torture (physical, sexual), illness/infection, rats, violence against animals, oppression, violence against children, child endangering, abandonment, drugging/sedating,
2. The maps and images looked interesting but unfortunately I couldn't zoom them in my digital copy!
Thank you to the author Haley Cohen Gilliland, Avid Reader Press, and NetGalley for an accessible digital arc of A FLOWER TRAVELED IN MY BLOOD. All views are mine.
honestly, the title and subtitle of this one grabbed me right off. I like this kind of history, in which a people fight fiercely for their own.
"“If you keep searching for Néstor, I’m leaving.” Azucena stared at him evenly, then replied, “Want me to pack your suitcase?”" p114
Final Review
(thoughts & recs) Some histories require the naming and discussing of dozens or even hundreds of people. Some histories don't require the naming of any people, or maybe very few of them. This book is one of the former, and knew from the beginning of the book that I would be lost the entire time. The author's research is clearly excellent, but I felt like I was at a party with a thousand people I'd met before but didn't remember who anyone was. This might have been due to the organization, as this narrative includes a great deal of information on a wide array of subjects. It may have a bit of an identity crisis also, as this book isn't only about the kidnapped children, but about many many different atrocities that took place during this time in Argentina's history.
Despite these minor quibbles, I recommend this eye-opening history to readers of true crime books, bizarre history, and the history of Argentina in the 1970's and 80's.
My 3 Favorite Things:
✔️ I loved the timeline of historical events and glossary at the beginning of the book. It really makes the setting concrete and promotes clarity in reading.
✔️ "The toddlers were also taken, shuffled between clandestine prisons in Buenos Aires and Montevideo. Ultimately, the children were flown to Chile on a small aircraft. Having never been on a plane before, four-year-old Anatole asked to enter the cockpit, and he would later recall staring down at the snowy tips of the Andes from the windshield. On December 22, a large black car with tinted windows transported the siblings to a plaza in the Chilean port city of Valparaiso. Before they knew what was happening, they were pushed onto the pavement and the car sped off, leaving them alone." p137 Abhorrent. Sometimes I just can't *process* the kinds of things humans do to each other and the world.
✔️ This is an extremely detailed account of something that happened to a people over a significant length of time. Locating and identifying the children that disappeared in this history took the Abuelas years, sometimes decades. Time passing complicated the apparent ethics of the case-- a critical public wondered how it could ever be best to remove children from families they'd already grown up with. It's a complicated case. This is quite a long book as a result, but I think with better organization, 50 to 75 pages could have been cut.
✔️ "“For twenty-two years they were my parents and I love them.”" p286 Holy crap these poor people.
Notes:
1. content notes: political upheaval, martial law, protests and demonstration, police/military, racism, ethnic cleansing, political kidnapping, abduction, violence against women, torture (physical, sexual), illness/infection, rats, violence against animals, oppression, violence against children, child endangering, abandonment, drugging/sedating,
2. The maps and images looked interesting but unfortunately I couldn't zoom them in my digital copy!
Thank you to the author Haley Cohen Gilliland, Avid Reader Press, and NetGalley for an accessible digital arc of A FLOWER TRAVELED IN MY BLOOD. All views are mine.
February 9, 2025
This is a powerful history in two parts. The first part is about the brutal dictatorship that occurred in Argentina from 1976-83. People are being disappeared along with their children if they are viewed as or actually part of the opposition. The other narrative is about the grandmothers of the children that were disappeared and their efforts to find all of these kidnapped children. The writing was excellent and it is a well crafted story I didn’t know. I would recommend.
July 16, 2025
Haunting, urgent, and unflinchingly told, A Flower Traveled in My Blood is a searing account of Argentina’s “Dirty War” through the lens of those who refused to be silenced — the grandmothers who dedicated their lives to finding the children stolen by the state.
Gilliland weaves historical investigation, personal testimony, and moral reckoning into a powerful narrative about memory, justice, and resistance. The book focuses on the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo, the grandmothers who took to the streets in defiance of a brutal right-wing military regime that abducted and “disappeared” thousands in the 1970s — including pregnant women. The state gave their children away to loyalists, embedding a quiet, horrifying legacy into Argentine society. This book doesn’t just tell the story of resistance; it pulls you inside the fear. The descriptions of kidnappings by masked agents in unmarked vehicles are terrifying — and disturbingly resonant for an American reader in 2025 watching similar headlines play out with ICE raids and the erosion of civil liberties.
There were moments I had to put the book down — not because it was poorly written, but because the reality it captures is almost too much to bear. Torture, forced disappearances, state-orchestrated lies — it’s a darkness that feels all the more chilling because it's real, and recent, and not isolated to Argentina.
This is not a “comfort read.” But it is essential. Gilliland gives voice to women who refused to forget, and who turned their grief into a form of resistance. I recommend — but go in knowing that this story will stay with you.
Gilliland weaves historical investigation, personal testimony, and moral reckoning into a powerful narrative about memory, justice, and resistance. The book focuses on the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo, the grandmothers who took to the streets in defiance of a brutal right-wing military regime that abducted and “disappeared” thousands in the 1970s — including pregnant women. The state gave their children away to loyalists, embedding a quiet, horrifying legacy into Argentine society. This book doesn’t just tell the story of resistance; it pulls you inside the fear. The descriptions of kidnappings by masked agents in unmarked vehicles are terrifying — and disturbingly resonant for an American reader in 2025 watching similar headlines play out with ICE raids and the erosion of civil liberties.
There were moments I had to put the book down — not because it was poorly written, but because the reality it captures is almost too much to bear. Torture, forced disappearances, state-orchestrated lies — it’s a darkness that feels all the more chilling because it's real, and recent, and not isolated to Argentina.
This is not a “comfort read.” But it is essential. Gilliland gives voice to women who refused to forget, and who turned their grief into a form of resistance. I recommend — but go in knowing that this story will stay with you.
September 11, 2025
In the 1970s, the government of Argentina disappeared what is now believed to be approx 30,000 citizens who protested against the violent government. Many of those who were disappeared were, after being tortured, drugged and thrown out of airplanes to their death. There were a number of women who were either pregnant when taken or were taken with their infants. The mothers of many of these women never stopped searching for their missing grandchildren, even when they knew their children were dead. The Abuelas (as they came to be called) were relentless in their decades long searches for grandchildren, even at great personal risk. Some of them were disappeared themselves because of their public dissent. In this riveting account of The Abuelas efforts, including research, protest, publicizing, and looking for ways for the expanding genetics science to help find every missing child, the author does an excellent job of journalism. The Abuelas are an inspiration of strength and a firm commitment to never losing hope. The story is a reminder of how a few people can influence the world - and a reminder of the horrors people can inflict on their friends and neighbors.
August 15, 2025
Excellent. Stunning. I haven’t read much nonfiction lately, but this was is a great example of what it can be. Gilliland covers so much ground here, but manages to weave together a comprehensive narrative of the Dirty War and its origins, the activism and achievements of the Abuelas organization, and the experiences of one family in particular. It’s a lot of people and details, but I never found it hard to follow. I teared up several times throughout this book—that is far from typical for me.
I was surprised and proud to learn about the extensive contributions of Carleton graduate and MATH major Mary-Claire King to identifying missing grandchildren. King and I share a reunion year (’67 and ’22)—I hope to have a chance to meet her some day.
An unfortunate reminder of what happens when men claim power for themselves in the name of defending "Western, Christian civilization," this history is heartbreaking, and the twists of public opinion are repeatedly frustrating. Gilliland includes descriptions of the dictatorship’s crimes, and they are sometimes graphic. If you cannot handle descriptions of torture, approach this book with caution.
I highly recommend this one. It’s not happy, but it does inspire hope and courage to resist.
I was surprised and proud to learn about the extensive contributions of Carleton graduate and MATH major Mary-Claire King to identifying missing grandchildren. King and I share a reunion year (’67 and ’22)—I hope to have a chance to meet her some day.
An unfortunate reminder of what happens when men claim power for themselves in the name of defending "Western, Christian civilization," this history is heartbreaking, and the twists of public opinion are repeatedly frustrating. Gilliland includes descriptions of the dictatorship’s crimes, and they are sometimes graphic. If you cannot handle descriptions of torture, approach this book with caution.
I highly recommend this one. It’s not happy, but it does inspire hope and courage to resist.
September 3, 2025
This is just the sort of history I love to read: a bite-sized sliver of a broader historical period. I first learned about the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo in one of my favorite books, Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland. When discussing Irish families’ desires to know the locations of their disappeared loved ones’ remains, Patrick Radden Keefe makes two quick references to the work of the Madres and Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo. What a cool overlap, then, that on her episode of The Stacks podcast, Haley Cohen Gilliland shares about how PRK has been a role model and mentor for her. We love all the literary overlaps!!!
It's funny because this book reminded me of Say Nothing in some ways. Of course, there is the editorial decision to focus on a compelling sliver of a broader history, and the 1970s-1990s timeline for both tales. Each story involves a confrontation with Margaret Thatcher, and each history requires the author to have a patient hand at unraveling a twisted and tampered timeline. Of course, the resounding shared theme here is about the moral imperative of closure after times of war and terror. If societies truly expect to resolve a conflict, one necessary step to doing so is offering the victims of those conflicts the information they need to mourn.
🏫👩🏾🏫🧪 Class is in session!
I don’t mean to use the “sliver of history” categorization to suggest that Haley Cohen Gilliland wasn’t very detailed in this book. I was continuously impressed by the depth of her research, and how effective she was at distilling her findings.
For starters, she demonstrates how Jorge Rafael Videla was actually part of a long lineage of military dictators in Argentina—just in Patricia’s lifetime, she would’ve lived under Onganía as a teen, and Aramburu in her very early years, with periods of Perón’s leadership sprinkled in between—and even he had his dictatorial moments!!! Gilliland also left me wanting to read a whole book about Isabel Perón’s brief reign, and her entanglement with the “Rasputin of the Pampas”, José López Rega!! This waffling leadership style, from all-out military juntas to political chameleons bolstered by a cult of personality, proves to be the same waffling the country experienced with the aftermath of Videla’s reign of terror:
As you might imagine, no discussion of the reign of terror in South America can be complete without showing the US’ ROLE AS COP OF THE WORLD. Gilliland dutifully explores our country’s hand in Operation Condor, a coordinated anti-communism effort between Argentina, Chile, Uruguay, Bolivia, Paraguay, Brazil, Ecuador, Peru, and the United States. While I am of course generally familiar with the Cold War cronyism that the U.S. engaged in, I was not particularly familiar with this group project to synchronize military intelligence, surveil and torture leftists, AND STEAL THEIR UNBORN BABIES. Gilliland’s explanation of this operation shows just how much brutality we directly supported simply to prevent communism. In particular, Henry Kissinger emerges once again as one of the most nefarious individuals on the planet Earth—or beneath it. 🔥
Finally, as someone who has never been good at science, I really appreciated how Gilliland described the advancements in genetics with lots of personal context, instructional comparisons, and rhythmic timing. I felt like I was along for each new scientific discovery, despite not knowing anything more about mitochondrial DNA than that it must come from “the powerhouse of the cell.” Coming out of this book, I now have a clearer sense of why mtDNA is so helpful in genetic research. I can even explain why we use dental records to identify people—because the hard enamel around teeth creates a better barrier of protection for the DNA than bones!! Another cool thing about the scientific advancements in this book is that we get to see how the Abuelas’ fight set so many precedents for the world we live in now. Many of the moral standards for reconciliation, as well as the literal scientific testing used to identify human rights victims, came as the results of the work of these women. Just gripping stuff, all around!!
🛹or ⚔️: Containers for our discontent, and the paths to resistance
Like with Say Nothing, I think this book is another really interesting case of whether the times make the people, or the people make the times. Sometimes I think the reason that many of the young men I know are facing such emotional and mental strife is simply because organized resistance movements are no longer considered the place for disenchanted young people to go. I often wonder how if people might find fulfillment if the “hippie” culture of our modern time didn’t stall out at skateparks and smoke shops, but instead translated to political action. This is by no means trying to say that most disgruntled people in earlier generations joined the Provisional IRA during The Troubles or the Monteneros during Videla’s reign of terror or even the Black Panthers if they lived in Oakland in the 60s or 70s!! But, I do just think that it’s clear how these organizations offered their members a path that many young people do not feel like they have today (yes, I know this is intentional due to CIA/FBI disruption and that some young people today are engaged in movement work.)
While Gilliland details how Patricia and Juan ended up on the path to resistance work, I was especially moved by Laura, who seemed to understand that the terror her country had inflicted upon her would galvanize her mother into activism. Overall, I kept thinking how proud the desaparecidos would have been of their mothers!! These women turned the martyrdom of their children into a cause that would influence the entire country, if not our broader world. Even more moving is the way that The Abuelas became a place for the children of the desaparecidos to process their grief. I think so many people today are looking for organizations that can be containers for grief, places of deep connection, AND channels to push for change. While I don’t mean to say these places don’t exist, many of us have not yet found them to work as well as we’d desire—and those are only the ones who have even sought them out! So, it’s nice to read a story about a group that clearly achieved so much for society and for its members.
🤔 The Abuelas’ moral quandaries, or why we still need more from family abolitionists
Gilliland does an excellent job at posing some of the moral quandaries related to the Abuelas’ efforts to identify their grandchildren. It made me think of this gap I want family policing abolition and family abolition to close—like what intersection of these two worlds gets us to the position that NO ONE—not the state, not the adoptive/foster family, not even the birth family—has a right to “own” a child?
In addition to reminding me of these modern questions, A Flower Traveled In My Blood also highlights the failure of the state to safeguard the victims’ best interests. To pursue legal recompense for their grandchildren, the Abuelas had to trust the same courts, judges, and police/military who disappeared their children. This leads to terrible examples of police raiding people’s homes for DNA, armed guards waking children out of their beds during custody disputes, and forcing victims to trials they never asked for. It seemed like all parties often lost any attention to what the children of the desaparecidos would want for their own lives—it was all about property rights, like who “owned” them in childhood, and who “owned” their genetic information in adulthood:
Gilliland is thoughtful with exploring all sides of these moral quandaries, and I truly do not know where I landed on this question. However, I surely enjoyed reading about it, and would love to hear other readers’ thoughts in the comments!!!
💭 Final Thoughts
I would highly recommend this book! It’s not my favorite history I’ve read this year, but it should be in the top 10. There’s so much I never would’ve known about, and it’s all discussed in a way that draws you in as a reader.
I do wish Gilliland provided more about the separation of the Madres and the Abuelas, as the exhumation debate seems like a big moment in the organizational history. I was also curious about the family strife in cases where the Abuelas had multiple children—did the non-abducted ones ever feel abandoned or deprioritized by the hunts? We also never heard what happened to Ximena, and if she ever made peace with her new home!!
Finally, I really enjoyed Gilliland’s points about how the national myths of civilization and culture of religious dominance informed the military’s justifications of the Dirty War, and guided their particular methods of murdering the desaparecidos. However, I think a stronger author could’ve tied these realities to the violence of whiteness in Argentina, and how Black populations have been erased from the country’s history and national identity. Gilliland frames the desaparecidos as the first mass disappearance in Argentine history, something that some Black historians seem to disagree with. However, maybe that’s an entirely different book—if so, it’s also one I would read.
It's funny because this book reminded me of Say Nothing in some ways. Of course, there is the editorial decision to focus on a compelling sliver of a broader history, and the 1970s-1990s timeline for both tales. Each story involves a confrontation with Margaret Thatcher, and each history requires the author to have a patient hand at unraveling a twisted and tampered timeline. Of course, the resounding shared theme here is about the moral imperative of closure after times of war and terror. If societies truly expect to resolve a conflict, one necessary step to doing so is offering the victims of those conflicts the information they need to mourn.
🏫👩🏾🏫🧪 Class is in session!
I don’t mean to use the “sliver of history” categorization to suggest that Haley Cohen Gilliland wasn’t very detailed in this book. I was continuously impressed by the depth of her research, and how effective she was at distilling her findings.
For starters, she demonstrates how Jorge Rafael Videla was actually part of a long lineage of military dictators in Argentina—just in Patricia’s lifetime, she would’ve lived under Onganía as a teen, and Aramburu in her very early years, with periods of Perón’s leadership sprinkled in between—and even he had his dictatorial moments!!! Gilliland also left me wanting to read a whole book about Isabel Perón’s brief reign, and her entanglement with the “Rasputin of the Pampas”, José López Rega!! This waffling leadership style, from all-out military juntas to political chameleons bolstered by a cult of personality, proves to be the same waffling the country experienced with the aftermath of Videla’s reign of terror:
Argentina itself has long been viewed as a case study in the classic frictions that afflict such processes of reckoning. From Alfonsín’s amnesty laws and Menem’s pardons to the Kirchner-era annulment of those initiatives, the country has seesawed between the opposing impulses of reconciliation and justice, between the drive to forget and the obligation to remember.(328)
As you might imagine, no discussion of the reign of terror in South America can be complete without showing the US’ ROLE AS COP OF THE WORLD. Gilliland dutifully explores our country’s hand in Operation Condor, a coordinated anti-communism effort between Argentina, Chile, Uruguay, Bolivia, Paraguay, Brazil, Ecuador, Peru, and the United States. While I am of course generally familiar with the Cold War cronyism that the U.S. engaged in, I was not particularly familiar with this group project to synchronize military intelligence, surveil and torture leftists, AND STEAL THEIR UNBORN BABIES. Gilliland’s explanation of this operation shows just how much brutality we directly supported simply to prevent communism. In particular, Henry Kissinger emerges once again as one of the most nefarious individuals on the planet Earth—or beneath it. 🔥
Finally, as someone who has never been good at science, I really appreciated how Gilliland described the advancements in genetics with lots of personal context, instructional comparisons, and rhythmic timing. I felt like I was along for each new scientific discovery, despite not knowing anything more about mitochondrial DNA than that it must come from “the powerhouse of the cell.” Coming out of this book, I now have a clearer sense of why mtDNA is so helpful in genetic research. I can even explain why we use dental records to identify people—because the hard enamel around teeth creates a better barrier of protection for the DNA than bones!! Another cool thing about the scientific advancements in this book is that we get to see how the Abuelas’ fight set so many precedents for the world we live in now. Many of the moral standards for reconciliation, as well as the literal scientific testing used to identify human rights victims, came as the results of the work of these women. Just gripping stuff, all around!!
🛹or ⚔️: Containers for our discontent, and the paths to resistance
Like with Say Nothing, I think this book is another really interesting case of whether the times make the people, or the people make the times. Sometimes I think the reason that many of the young men I know are facing such emotional and mental strife is simply because organized resistance movements are no longer considered the place for disenchanted young people to go. I often wonder how if people might find fulfillment if the “hippie” culture of our modern time didn’t stall out at skateparks and smoke shops, but instead translated to political action. This is by no means trying to say that most disgruntled people in earlier generations joined the Provisional IRA during The Troubles or the Monteneros during Videla’s reign of terror or even the Black Panthers if they lived in Oakland in the 60s or 70s!! But, I do just think that it’s clear how these organizations offered their members a path that many young people do not feel like they have today (yes, I know this is intentional due to CIA/FBI disruption and that some young people today are engaged in movement work.)
While Gilliland details how Patricia and Juan ended up on the path to resistance work, I was especially moved by Laura, who seemed to understand that the terror her country had inflicted upon her would galvanize her mother into activism. Overall, I kept thinking how proud the desaparecidos would have been of their mothers!! These women turned the martyrdom of their children into a cause that would influence the entire country, if not our broader world. Even more moving is the way that The Abuelas became a place for the children of the desaparecidos to process their grief. I think so many people today are looking for organizations that can be containers for grief, places of deep connection, AND channels to push for change. While I don’t mean to say these places don’t exist, many of us have not yet found them to work as well as we’d desire—and those are only the ones who have even sought them out! So, it’s nice to read a story about a group that clearly achieved so much for society and for its members.
🤔 The Abuelas’ moral quandaries, or why we still need more from family abolitionists
Gilliland does an excellent job at posing some of the moral quandaries related to the Abuelas’ efforts to identify their grandchildren. It made me think of this gap I want family policing abolition and family abolition to close—like what intersection of these two worlds gets us to the position that NO ONE—not the state, not the adoptive/foster family, not even the birth family—has a right to “own” a child?
In addition to reminding me of these modern questions, A Flower Traveled In My Blood also highlights the failure of the state to safeguard the victims’ best interests. To pursue legal recompense for their grandchildren, the Abuelas had to trust the same courts, judges, and police/military who disappeared their children. This leads to terrible examples of police raiding people’s homes for DNA, armed guards waking children out of their beds during custody disputes, and forcing victims to trials they never asked for. It seemed like all parties often lost any attention to what the children of the desaparecidos would want for their own lives—it was all about property rights, like who “owned” them in childhood, and who “owned” their genetic information in adulthood:
The scandal crystallized the difficult questions that had long surrounded the Abuelas’ work. To whom does identity belong? Is it the sole property of an individual—or does their family and their society also have a right to truth? If someone’s identity is falsified—as in the case of the Abuelas’ grandchildren—can society force truth on someone who doesn’t want to know it?” (295)
Gilliland is thoughtful with exploring all sides of these moral quandaries, and I truly do not know where I landed on this question. However, I surely enjoyed reading about it, and would love to hear other readers’ thoughts in the comments!!!
💭 Final Thoughts
I would highly recommend this book! It’s not my favorite history I’ve read this year, but it should be in the top 10. There’s so much I never would’ve known about, and it’s all discussed in a way that draws you in as a reader.
I do wish Gilliland provided more about the separation of the Madres and the Abuelas, as the exhumation debate seems like a big moment in the organizational history. I was also curious about the family strife in cases where the Abuelas had multiple children—did the non-abducted ones ever feel abandoned or deprioritized by the hunts? We also never heard what happened to Ximena, and if she ever made peace with her new home!!
Finally, I really enjoyed Gilliland’s points about how the national myths of civilization and culture of religious dominance informed the military’s justifications of the Dirty War, and guided their particular methods of murdering the desaparecidos. However, I think a stronger author could’ve tied these realities to the violence of whiteness in Argentina, and how Black populations have been erased from the country’s history and national identity. Gilliland frames the desaparecidos as the first mass disappearance in Argentine history, something that some Black historians seem to disagree with. However, maybe that’s an entirely different book—if so, it’s also one I would read.
August 4, 2025
I have many mixed feelings after completing this one, but it has nothing to do with Haley Cohen Gilliland coverage of this 50 year span of events.
This half century of history covers the Junta purge during the Argentinian Dirty war, the founding of Asociación Civil Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo and then finally the reclamation of Argentine grandchildren who were stolen from the families of political opposers of Jorge Rafael Videla's state terrorism in the 70s.
In the 70's, Argentinian death squads in the military had rounded up men and women of a certain political pedigree, jailed & tortured them, and then dumped them in mass graves. Some of these individuals had children or were pregnant at the time, and the military decided to redistribute these children within and outside of Argentina. Mothers and grandmothers who spent the 80s submitting information requests to find their lost children and grandchildren to an uncaring bureaucracy had decided that they had enough and organized together as a single force to oppose the current government until they had answers. If their children were death, they would find their tempest tossed grandchildren to undo the Junta's grave deeds.
Gilliland's coverage of these events is elegant. There are so many elements to this story - the timeline she provides at the beginning had me worried that I would drown into all the details - but she seamlessly integrates all of these elements (people, political groups, scientific progress) into a single path which is impossible to stray from.
No, the part of this read that had left me with a bad taste in my mouth was the events themselves, and how the pursuit of justice conflict with and individual's rights to remain ignorant of their identity.
Throughout these decades, scientific methods were developed to be able to trace the grand-parentage of suspected kidnapped children in the absence of their lost parents.
On paper, it seems like justice will be unilaterally served, but as time had passed, these children had grown into adults who would barely remember their past lives.
If you were raised by one set of parents (who may have not been aware that you were a kidnapped child when you came into their family) were being asked, and then government-forced to submit DNA to have the truth hoisted upon you, how would you feel?
How would you feel if you were told you had to leave your current family for your genetic one that you did not even know existed?
How would you feel, especially, if your current parents could face jail time (whether it was proven or not that they were aware of your origins).
Unfortunately, history does not promise easy answers.
It also does not provide happily ever after scenarios, as evidenced by the epilogue.
This half century of history covers the Junta purge during the Argentinian Dirty war, the founding of Asociación Civil Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo and then finally the reclamation of Argentine grandchildren who were stolen from the families of political opposers of Jorge Rafael Videla's state terrorism in the 70s.
In the 70's, Argentinian death squads in the military had rounded up men and women of a certain political pedigree, jailed & tortured them, and then dumped them in mass graves. Some of these individuals had children or were pregnant at the time, and the military decided to redistribute these children within and outside of Argentina. Mothers and grandmothers who spent the 80s submitting information requests to find their lost children and grandchildren to an uncaring bureaucracy had decided that they had enough and organized together as a single force to oppose the current government until they had answers. If their children were death, they would find their tempest tossed grandchildren to undo the Junta's grave deeds.
Gilliland's coverage of these events is elegant. There are so many elements to this story - the timeline she provides at the beginning had me worried that I would drown into all the details - but she seamlessly integrates all of these elements (people, political groups, scientific progress) into a single path which is impossible to stray from.
No, the part of this read that had left me with a bad taste in my mouth was the events themselves, and how the pursuit of justice conflict with and individual's rights to remain ignorant of their identity.
Throughout these decades, scientific methods were developed to be able to trace the grand-parentage of suspected kidnapped children in the absence of their lost parents.
On paper, it seems like justice will be unilaterally served, but as time had passed, these children had grown into adults who would barely remember their past lives.
If you were raised by one set of parents (who may have not been aware that you were a kidnapped child when you came into their family) were being asked, and then government-forced to submit DNA to have the truth hoisted upon you, how would you feel?
How would you feel if you were told you had to leave your current family for your genetic one that you did not even know existed?
How would you feel, especially, if your current parents could face jail time (whether it was proven or not that they were aware of your origins).
Unfortunately, history does not promise easy answers.
It also does not provide happily ever after scenarios, as evidenced by the epilogue.
Read
September 5, 2025It really is a 4 or 5 star book at the least, but I can't rate it because it was too horrific for me to read. Possibly at another time but just not now. I only got about 1/3rd through these hideous regimes and horrendous practices. Worse than most any I have read. Argentina's history is violence in cycles that are rapid and often.
One extremely sad aspect is that those who have had DNA matches (after decades) in several (not more than a few to most of them) want little to do with their birth families or blood histories at all. Carefully, carefully taught.
The bravery of the seekers is legend. And also their demise too at times.
One extremely sad aspect is that those who have had DNA matches (after decades) in several (not more than a few to most of them) want little to do with their birth families or blood histories at all. Carefully, carefully taught.
The bravery of the seekers is legend. And also their demise too at times.
August 22, 2025
This is a wonderful and horrifically sad story. It’s so tragically similar to what is happening RIGHT F**CKING NOW, it’s scary. History repeats unless we learn how to break the cycle.
August 4, 2025
That since 2023 Argentina thanks to its new and especially controversial (for better or worse, probably more of the latter, see the end of this review for perhaps why) president has been back in the news and has made it an issue of note for those looking to see how countries with rough pasts can potentially right the ship. As someone who has a wanderlust trying to find out more about various parts of the world off the beaten path, no place deserves a better look than one of the most southern countries in the world and a surprisingly large one at that.
Before reading A Flower Traveled in My Blood: The Incredible True Story of the Grandmothers Who Fought to Find a Stolen Generation of Children, my Argentina knowledge probably was in line with most everyone coming from a similar background: I know where it is on a map, I’m aware of the new president, I know inflation has been a serious issue, and then there’s this “Peron” guy who some say is great, but others say he’s bad but was the “best of the worst” options for a country that has seen its fair share of ups and downs. Sadly, I may have been right, but also very wrong. As it turns out, what came after was really, really...bad.
A dry history of Argentina would be a tough sell for most anyone and thus what we get in A Flower Traveled in My Blood seems to follow the more digestible path in “conflict theater” books where the author has the book focusing mainly on some specific issue—here, “the National Reorganization Process or El Proceso—a bland name masking their ruthless campaign to crush the political left and instill the country with ‘Western, Christian’ values.” (quoting from the book’s blurb). This of course is tied in with a crash course history of Argentina from its better off years in the 1910’s and 20’s to the mostly continuous downward trend it has experienced since through the 1980’s and beyond. Thus, if you’ve read “conflict theater” books in the past, the flow of this one should come as no surprise. For structure at least, we’re on familiar ground.
As reviewers have already noted, this is a—and it’s overused, but there’s no better word, sorry!--gripping book that reads closer to a novel than an actual recounting of history. Argentina for the masses seems to have more ups and downs than meme stocks but without the humor attached to it. For our group of mothers seeking children, as years turned closer to a decade and that even longer, there was some respite as children thanks to new genetic matching via Dr. Mary-Claire King (and as an aside, the tangent for her background I feel was just as well-written but somewhat felt out of place in a book otherwise hyper-focused on a specific cause in Argentina). Children were found. Matches were made. But this, as we see, opened up another thorny issue: ethics.
On one hand, if a child is stolen from their parents, it’s obvious what needs to be done to make things right. But on the other, what if it has been years? What if the child is fully acclimated in their new home? What if their new parents had absolutely no idea the child they adopted came into their family through such nefarious means? After all, a woman giving birth in a concrete torture chamber only to be then tranquilized, corralled onto a plane, and then thrown in the ocean is pretty darn nefarious. In this situation, what really is the right thing to do? Give them back to their living relatives? Split custody? Simply ask the child what they prefer? Thus, as strange as it is to type, later on in the book, the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo almost—but not quite, mind you!--begins to feel less like a group of mothers and grandmothers trying to right the wrongs of a junta and more of tragic villains separating innocents from their families.
In fact, we do see a darker side to this all in the form of those who developed strong attachments to their new parents whom even if were ‘in’ on the initial tragedy of forced separation, may have made amends in the decades since: (In an interview one of the stolen children (now in his twenties) gave to a large newspaper “...in which he revealed that he had begged for the legal charges against Gomez and [his wife] to be dropped, only to be told by his grandmothers (the Abuelas organization) that it was impossible. The matter was in the hands of the state which was duty-bound to investigate and prosecute the crime that had been committed. To officially change his identity in government registries, the state would require [him] to have his blood drawn by the BNDG. The Abuelas had tried to bribe him to do so, he told the interview [for the newspaper], saying that if he gave his DNA to the BNDG, he would receive reparations. He said that not all the gold in the world could convince him when it would almost certainly land his parents in jail.” (transcribed from the audiobook at 75% mark, any errors my own)
As the past slowly, but surely merged with the present, me with my lack of Argentina knowledge began to harbor a question that finally was answered in the epilogue: What does our anarcho-capitalist Milei think about this? While anarchism has its benefits, they don’t seem to be of use in our tale as predictably, Milei falls into the “it wasn’t as bad as it sounds, there was torture on both sides, those grandmas are really, really mean” camp of thought in spite of a warehouse full of documentation saying otherwise (aside from the latter, those Abuelas have had it rough and deserve to look any way they want).
Before reading A Flower Traveled in My Blood: The Incredible True Story of the Grandmothers Who Fought to Find a Stolen Generation of Children, my Argentina knowledge probably was in line with most everyone coming from a similar background: I know where it is on a map, I’m aware of the new president, I know inflation has been a serious issue, and then there’s this “Peron” guy who some say is great, but others say he’s bad but was the “best of the worst” options for a country that has seen its fair share of ups and downs. Sadly, I may have been right, but also very wrong. As it turns out, what came after was really, really...bad.
A dry history of Argentina would be a tough sell for most anyone and thus what we get in A Flower Traveled in My Blood seems to follow the more digestible path in “conflict theater” books where the author has the book focusing mainly on some specific issue—here, “the National Reorganization Process or El Proceso—a bland name masking their ruthless campaign to crush the political left and instill the country with ‘Western, Christian’ values.” (quoting from the book’s blurb). This of course is tied in with a crash course history of Argentina from its better off years in the 1910’s and 20’s to the mostly continuous downward trend it has experienced since through the 1980’s and beyond. Thus, if you’ve read “conflict theater” books in the past, the flow of this one should come as no surprise. For structure at least, we’re on familiar ground.
As reviewers have already noted, this is a—and it’s overused, but there’s no better word, sorry!--gripping book that reads closer to a novel than an actual recounting of history. Argentina for the masses seems to have more ups and downs than meme stocks but without the humor attached to it. For our group of mothers seeking children, as years turned closer to a decade and that even longer, there was some respite as children thanks to new genetic matching via Dr. Mary-Claire King (and as an aside, the tangent for her background I feel was just as well-written but somewhat felt out of place in a book otherwise hyper-focused on a specific cause in Argentina). Children were found. Matches were made. But this, as we see, opened up another thorny issue: ethics.
On one hand, if a child is stolen from their parents, it’s obvious what needs to be done to make things right. But on the other, what if it has been years? What if the child is fully acclimated in their new home? What if their new parents had absolutely no idea the child they adopted came into their family through such nefarious means? After all, a woman giving birth in a concrete torture chamber only to be then tranquilized, corralled onto a plane, and then thrown in the ocean is pretty darn nefarious. In this situation, what really is the right thing to do? Give them back to their living relatives? Split custody? Simply ask the child what they prefer? Thus, as strange as it is to type, later on in the book, the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo almost—but not quite, mind you!--begins to feel less like a group of mothers and grandmothers trying to right the wrongs of a junta and more of tragic villains separating innocents from their families.
In fact, we do see a darker side to this all in the form of those who developed strong attachments to their new parents whom even if were ‘in’ on the initial tragedy of forced separation, may have made amends in the decades since: (In an interview one of the stolen children (now in his twenties) gave to a large newspaper “...in which he revealed that he had begged for the legal charges against Gomez and [his wife] to be dropped, only to be told by his grandmothers (the Abuelas organization) that it was impossible. The matter was in the hands of the state which was duty-bound to investigate and prosecute the crime that had been committed. To officially change his identity in government registries, the state would require [him] to have his blood drawn by the BNDG. The Abuelas had tried to bribe him to do so, he told the interview [for the newspaper], saying that if he gave his DNA to the BNDG, he would receive reparations. He said that not all the gold in the world could convince him when it would almost certainly land his parents in jail.” (transcribed from the audiobook at 75% mark, any errors my own)
As the past slowly, but surely merged with the present, me with my lack of Argentina knowledge began to harbor a question that finally was answered in the epilogue: What does our anarcho-capitalist Milei think about this? While anarchism has its benefits, they don’t seem to be of use in our tale as predictably, Milei falls into the “it wasn’t as bad as it sounds, there was torture on both sides, those grandmas are really, really mean” camp of thought in spite of a warehouse full of documentation saying otherwise (aside from the latter, those Abuelas have had it rough and deserve to look any way they want).
August 2, 2025
I would like to thank Goodreads, the publisher, and our incredible author for my copy of this book and the opportunity to review it.
I can’t recommend this book highly enough. Get it, read it! As a mom and a grandma (or should I say, abuelita) I can’t even imagine. Yet these women so totally support one another, celebrate each other’s successes, and fight for justice with such totally bad-a$&ery.
Before reading this, my exposure to this unbelievable story was limited to the U2 song “Mothers of the Disappeared.” This story deserves every bit of the author’s meticulous research and thorough, sensitive treatment. Though the subject matter is heavy, Ms. Gilliland made it ultimately redemptive. Get it, read it. You won’t regret it.
I can’t recommend this book highly enough. Get it, read it! As a mom and a grandma (or should I say, abuelita) I can’t even imagine. Yet these women so totally support one another, celebrate each other’s successes, and fight for justice with such totally bad-a$&ery.
Before reading this, my exposure to this unbelievable story was limited to the U2 song “Mothers of the Disappeared.” This story deserves every bit of the author’s meticulous research and thorough, sensitive treatment. Though the subject matter is heavy, Ms. Gilliland made it ultimately redemptive. Get it, read it. You won’t regret it.
August 17, 2025
what an incredible first book. gilliland deftly combines political history with deeply personal histories and doesn't try to flatten the complexities of individual grief, national reconciliation, and what private choices belong to a single person vs. what truths belong to an entire nation
I hope this author writes more books like this in the future
I hope this author writes more books like this in the future
July 31, 2025
American foreign policy always at the scene of the crime
August 14, 2025
Listed to this as an audiobook. What an incredible story. I am very ignorant of the political history of South America and this was both emotional and educational. The author did a great job of explaining the different perspectives that would put the Abuelas in and out of favor with different political movements as well as the grey areas that emerge when the grandchildren had to grapple with reconciling their true families with the people who had raised them.
July 16, 2025
An extremely well-constructed book. The author manages to cover Argentine political history deftly and concisely, and she makes distinct a very large cast of characters.
August 13, 2025
An astonishing story about the search for the “desaparecidos,” pregnant mothers with their husbands and unborn children, who were disappeared—kidnapped and murdered— during the dictatorship in Argentina in the 1970’s. That this was happening as I was oblivious to the horror, graduating high school and living the college dream, is upsetting as is the connection I have as an adoptee to those who know nothing of their origins or birth family connections.
The strength and determination of the abuelas to find their children and grandchildren, and the emerging science of DNA to support criminal investigations and human rights abuses, was uplifting and fascinating.
I admit to skimming a bit over some of the political history, but still was utterly driven to keep turning the pages. A 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟narrative nonfiction read.
The strength and determination of the abuelas to find their children and grandchildren, and the emerging science of DNA to support criminal investigations and human rights abuses, was uplifting and fascinating.
I admit to skimming a bit over some of the political history, but still was utterly driven to keep turning the pages. A 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟narrative nonfiction read.
August 7, 2025
This is narrative non-fiction at its best. Meticulously researched and extremely well written, this reads the way the best fiction does. Except it's all true and it is brutal. Going into Argentina's history and the rise of the junta, the disappearance of every day people and the pain to the survivors. The worst were the stolen grandchildren and the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo determination to find them and to bring justice for their loved ones. Centered around the Rosenblitt family and its dynamics through generations made this even more powerful. The evolution of DNA genealogy as well Mary-Claire King's scientific discoveries and how it impacted the stolen was also fascinating. This will stay with me for a long time.
August 9, 2025
This is such a powerful and moving read. It feels like a novel, but it’s telling a real—and heartbreaking—story.
I didn’t know much about this part of history before reading it. During Argentina’s dictatorship, tens of thousands of people were “disappeared,” including pregnant women whose babies were taken and given to other families. It’s incredibly heavy, but the book handles it with care.
One part that really stood out to me was the story of Rosa Roisinblit. She’s one of the founding members of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo—a group of grandmothers who began organizing to search for their missing grandchildren. Many of these babies were born in captivity and illegally adopted, and the Abuelas have spent decades working to uncover the truth and help restore stolen identities. Their dedication is beyond inspiring.
This book opened my eyes to a history I hadn’t known about—and did it in such a heartfelt and powerful way.
(As an aside, I wanted to research more about Rosa and I’ve learned she is still alive today at 105 years old! )
I didn’t know much about this part of history before reading it. During Argentina’s dictatorship, tens of thousands of people were “disappeared,” including pregnant women whose babies were taken and given to other families. It’s incredibly heavy, but the book handles it with care.
One part that really stood out to me was the story of Rosa Roisinblit. She’s one of the founding members of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo—a group of grandmothers who began organizing to search for their missing grandchildren. Many of these babies were born in captivity and illegally adopted, and the Abuelas have spent decades working to uncover the truth and help restore stolen identities. Their dedication is beyond inspiring.
This book opened my eyes to a history I hadn’t known about—and did it in such a heartfelt and powerful way.
(As an aside, I wanted to research more about Rosa and I’ve learned she is still alive today at 105 years old! )
September 2, 2025
Like Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland for Argentina's "Dirty War" (though with less ambiguity in the morality of the various actors). Depressing, hopeful, and relentlessly researched. This was something I knew very little about, particularly the finer details, and I feel I have gotten both a brief introduction to "Dirty War" and a compelling narrative about one family--though the scope of the story for most of the book covers the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo as a whole.
July 25, 2025
Received as an ARC via my former employer Barnes & Noble. Started 7-21-25. Finished 7-25-25. An extremely well-researched book about the "disappearance" of thousands of Argentine citizens during the many dictatorial leaderships of their government decades ago. Most were killed after torturing by lower military and government employees, some by electrocution, by being shot, some by being thrown alive out of airplanes into rivers below. Pregnant women had their babies confiscated after birth and given as rewards to other military and police officials once their birth certificates were forged. Years later groups of grandmothers protested publicly for information about their children and grandchildren. After several years DNA sequencing was established to determine grandpaternity. Hundred of court trials were held, and hundreds of grandchildren were located and reunited. There are however several thousands more to be determined.
This book is non-fiction but it reads like a murder mystery, and that's exactly what it is--an expose of kidnapping and murder by authoritarian governments imposed on their own citizens. And if you think it has no relevance to you, it would not take much more for it to occur in this country...the USA. Children were already being removed from their deported parents.
This book deserves more than 5 stars!!!!!
This book is non-fiction but it reads like a murder mystery, and that's exactly what it is--an expose of kidnapping and murder by authoritarian governments imposed on their own citizens. And if you think it has no relevance to you, it would not take much more for it to occur in this country...the USA. Children were already being removed from their deported parents.
This book deserves more than 5 stars!!!!!
August 22, 2025
Absolutely heartbreaking...a look at an obscene history of violence, fascism and social destruction in a country that is remarkably still standing after everything it has been through. It is a piercing look at Argentine history (something we North Americans have little exposure to) and a story of intense family love, joy and hardship. This should be required reading for anyone interested in understanding South American history.
September 10, 2025
I found this book incredibly profound and illuminating. It’s a moving act of narrative nonfiction- really well researched but told in a clear and compelling way. I was familiar with the Madres of the Plaza de Mayo, but never learned of the history of disappeared pregnant women and the grandmothers 40+ year search for justice. Fascinating science as well as a central question of how we societies navigate the search for justice with reconciliation and healing.
July 23, 2025
Highly, highly recommended!
This book is an incredibly detailed and captivating tale of the desaparecidos of Argentina in the 1970s, what happened to the babies born to pregnant women who were abducted, and the grandmothers’ search for these children.
I am lucky enough to have spent a month in Buenos Aires learning about the legal system some years ago. I vividly remember visiting the Esma torture center. It was horrifying, as was much of this book, but it is a story that is rarely told, especially in English. I am lucky to have stumbled across this book and recommend it both to those who have learned about the desaparecidos, the flights dumping bodies, and the missing babies—and those to whom all of this sounds absurd. It is absurd. It happened. It is depressing, yes, but the book is actually not anywhere as depressing as it could be. The focus on finding the grandchildren through scientific advances in genetic genealogy is cool and also hopeful.
I received a free advance e-copy of this book from the publisher and NetGalley in exchange for my honest review.
This book is an incredibly detailed and captivating tale of the desaparecidos of Argentina in the 1970s, what happened to the babies born to pregnant women who were abducted, and the grandmothers’ search for these children.
I am lucky enough to have spent a month in Buenos Aires learning about the legal system some years ago. I vividly remember visiting the Esma torture center. It was horrifying, as was much of this book, but it is a story that is rarely told, especially in English. I am lucky to have stumbled across this book and recommend it both to those who have learned about the desaparecidos, the flights dumping bodies, and the missing babies—and those to whom all of this sounds absurd. It is absurd. It happened. It is depressing, yes, but the book is actually not anywhere as depressing as it could be. The focus on finding the grandchildren through scientific advances in genetic genealogy is cool and also hopeful.
I received a free advance e-copy of this book from the publisher and NetGalley in exchange for my honest review.
August 20, 2025
A superlative model of narrative nonfiction: Well told, well researched, well referenced. A compelling story of a complex and difficult period in Argentina’s history that serves equally as a cautionary tale for all humanity.
August 9, 2025
Outstanding.
July 7, 2025
This book is heartbreaking and incredible. Thank you so much to the author for writing an English-language book on the subject. Thank you to NetGalley for providing me with an ARC!
Until about a year ago, I primarily was a horror reader. Then I discovered the Argentine Mariana Enriquez's works. I devoured them, but I was lacking the background knowledge on the events and culture of Argentina. So many references to disappeared people, children, babies. I couldn't understand why the characters were so terrified to go on a car trip through their own country. I started to do some research and learned about the Abuelas, about the dictatorship, the death flights... I was shocked. How could these things happen? These things were so much worse than the fictions that they inspired.
I teared up while reading this at multiple points. Mariana writing letters and poems as a child to her stolen little brother was an especially painful point for me. Knowing that these are all real people, real stories, I want to shout to the world about what happened to them and demand justice. I'm hopeful that this book will bring more attention to these atrocities and that more English speakers will learn about them.
The author wrote everything in a narrative manner. Normally, I struggle with so many names, dates, and events, but Gilliland is very talented, and she wrote everything so that it neatly flowed and connected. The amount of research that must have gone into this is astounding.
Highly recommend.
Until about a year ago, I primarily was a horror reader. Then I discovered the Argentine Mariana Enriquez's works. I devoured them, but I was lacking the background knowledge on the events and culture of Argentina. So many references to disappeared people, children, babies. I couldn't understand why the characters were so terrified to go on a car trip through their own country. I started to do some research and learned about the Abuelas, about the dictatorship, the death flights... I was shocked. How could these things happen? These things were so much worse than the fictions that they inspired.
I teared up while reading this at multiple points. Mariana writing letters and poems as a child to her stolen little brother was an especially painful point for me. Knowing that these are all real people, real stories, I want to shout to the world about what happened to them and demand justice. I'm hopeful that this book will bring more attention to these atrocities and that more English speakers will learn about them.
The author wrote everything in a narrative manner. Normally, I struggle with so many names, dates, and events, but Gilliland is very talented, and she wrote everything so that it neatly flowed and connected. The amount of research that must have gone into this is astounding.
Highly recommend.
August 19, 2025
told like a history book, extremely unemotional and based very much on facts. I wish they focused more on personal testimonies and the genetic testing and less on the history of the government, trying to put so much background information watered down and muddled the beginning. The history of the country was important but it could be told more in parallel to the abuelas for a more cohesive story.
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