This book presents a renewed perspective on a specific aspect of the Chilean cultural scene during the post-dictatorship period, and is a much valued contribution. Even if at first sight we might think otherwise, historiography and cultural studies still have much work to do on the Chilean dictatorship and post-dictatorship period. We need such studies to allow us to understand a complex turning point not only for Chilean history, but also for Chilean society as a whole. These studies should definitely include the long-term consequences of repression, death and torture. But also, we need to understand experiences beyond violence. While many studies are centred on the terrible repression of General Augusto Pinochet's dictatorship, Jane Griffin seems to go one step further, asking how people found a way of keeping culture alive during the dictatorship; and, furthermore, how they moved forward to the transition period.

In terms of memory studies and a controversial past – in Chile the dictatorship is still an uncomfortable past – this book moves away from the dispute over collective memory and on to how that unspeakable past is interwoven with current experiences of Chileans. Through small, underground or independent literature production, the author takes the reader to different cultural initiatives in post-dictatorship Chile. These are different experiences of literature: a workshop producing book-objects; small books produced as craft; online books; and short stories published in public spaces by the alternative publishers Ergo Sum, Animita Cartonera, Libros de Mentira [‘Fake Books’], and Santiago en 100 Palabras [‘Santiago in 100 Words’].

Griffin points out the many differences in types of production, materiality of objects, and the formats or platforms on which they are published, but, at the same time, she manages to build some dialogues between these different experiences. The author underlines the creative concern about the object shared by Ergo Sum and Cartonera, by highlighting the art/craft component that is at the core of these two initiatives. On the other hand, Cartonera and Libros de Mentira try to reach wider audiences, one through the materiality of the object, and the other through web-based possibilities. Furthermore, the larger audience the latter two try to reach is also contained in the very self-definition of ‘Santiago en 100 Palabras’, since it was designed to be read in public spaces (such as in public transportation spaces, e.g. underground stations).

In addition to these dialogues, they share an aspect that seems to be one of Griffin's concerns: they are all distant from the commercial market, or from publishing houses – or at least from the more ‘traditional’ and ‘transnational’ ones. At this point, Griffin emphasises that this is a non-market oriented literature. Through this orientation, the individuals behind these initiatives managed to build a space that contrasts with the dictatorship's strong neoliberal heritage in Chile. Nevertheless, even if this were the spirit in which they were founded, it is difficult to determine a precise boundary of the extent to which they actually escape the neoliberal imprint. The motivation for these literary productions is not the one that rules in most publishing houses, but that does not mean they are immune to the neoliberal system. Funding, sponsors, even suppliers or circulation networks, do not respond to the aim of literary independence.

There are two factors that need clarification for readers who do not have a Chilean background or are not experts in Chilean studies. The first is that three of the four practices Griffin addresses are not well known within Chilean society. They were part of elite-culture and arts-culture circles. We do not learn, through Griffin's interpretation, how a wider public was reached and how this interacts with the social environment as a whole. Each one of the cases she works on has value in itself, and they do indeed exemplify interesting and creative ways in which citizens, even citizens living in a troubled era, are able to become cultural producers. But, the ability to do this does not imply that these are cultural practices that actually have a deep impact on society. Perhaps the exception is Santiago en 100 Palabras, due to its public engagement.

The other factor that one might question, again thinking of a non-Chilean audience, is the reference to the historical context in which the phenomenon of non-traditional publishing occurred. Although the author states that her book is not about dictatorship – and nor should it be – in order to understand these literary practices we have to be aware of the opaque scenario of the late 1990s and early 2000s. By opacity, I am referring to the silence and absence of vigour in a society that was still struggling with the ‘unmasterable past’, to use Charles Maier's words (The Unmasterable Past: History, Holocaust and German National Identity, Harvard University Press, 1988). Trying to rebuild and communicate that sensation of inertia could indeed be important for a reader not familiar with post-dictatorship Chile.

Despite these considerations, one of the great contributions of the book is to problematise some statements we tend to assume as truth. Beyond the atrocious experience of dictatorship and its aftermath, we cannot simply understand some historical periods, as horrifying as they might be, as hermetic containers, where every single aspect of past reality responds to that framework. One of the surprising and inspiring features of the human condition is that it finds a way to produce fissures, small fractures that somehow allow human beings to continue creating, even if the times are not the best for culture, or if culture does not seem to be a priority.

Nevertheless, although this climate of inertia and opacity is not explicitly there in the book, one thing these cases have in common is the humanity behind them, and how they bring individuals together in sharing – publicly or privately – their experiences through literature. Griffin's book shows us this powerful dimension and reminds us that words and language, as well as literature production and circulation, can tell us a lot about a society, its fears and hopes. Undoubtedly, it is not by chance that the concept of democracy is in the book's title.