A Reflection on Kulti by Mariana Zapata: The Anticipation That Never Quite Arrived
When I first picked up Kulti by Mariana Zapata, I was drawn in by the promise of a slow-burn romance—a trope that I cherish. The anticipation of a build-up, that delicious tension leading to a satisfying climax, always makes for an engaging reading experience for me. But as I delved into this nearly 500-page novel, I found myself grappling with disappointment, as it struggled to deliver the emotional pay-off I’d hoped for.
At its core, Kulti touches on themes of infatuation, friendship, and personal growth through the lens of Sal, a young soccer player who finds herself navigating her long-held childhood admiration for the iconic German footballer, Reiner Kulti. However, the slow burn here veers dangerously close to a slog. It takes until halfway through Chapter Three before Kulti makes his entrance, and the interactions feel painfully drawn out—lots of staring from afar, minimal movement, and far too many food mentions that go from amusing to excessive.
Zapata’s writing style, while often lush, made me feel trapped in a lengthy cycle of clauses and subplots that never fully realized their potential. The pitfalls of an overstuffed narrative were glaringly apparent as I struggled with scattered threads and lingering questions—a testament to how many subplots were introduced yet abandoned without resolution. For instance, we never learn why Kulti’s marriage dissolved, nor do we get context on his background that might enrich his character. Each sotto voce drama—the sideline antics, personal dilemmas, and unaddressed conflicts—felt like little more than filler.
Moreover, while I can appreciate the premise of Kulti’s mysterious past and Sal’s emotional rollercoaster, the climax felt rushed and poorly executed. The long-awaited physical moments seemed crammed in right before the finish line, leading to an unsatisfactory conclusion that, frankly, didn’t feel earned. How can you build up a connection so meticulously only to render the climax so lackluster? The repetitive nature of certain phrases and character actions did little to enhance my engagement—if anything, they dulled the shine of Zapata’s otherwise captivating prose.
One highlight was the exploration of Sal’s mixed feelings toward Kulti, which could have served as a commentary on celebrity worship. Yet the eventual reveal—that Kulti had treasured childhood letters from Sal—crossed a boundary and felt unsettling. Pitting their complex dynamics against a backdrop of nostalgia did raise ethical concerns that weren’t adequately explored. For me, the suggestion that their journey was "destined" left me uneasy, rather than charmed.
Despite these critiques, I appreciate what Kulti attempts with its ambitious depth and character development. Readers who are drawn to character-driven narratives and who relish slow explorations of emotion may still find value here, even if I walked away feeling unsatisfied.
In the grand tapestry of contemporary romance, Kulti is an intriguing addition but one that left me yearning for a more coherent structure and a richer payoff. My hope for any reader who chooses to embark on this journey is that they find the nuance I sometimes felt eluded me, and perhaps find joy in the slower moments that I struggled with. Ultimately, while it may not have ignited my heart, I know there are those who revel in less conventional romances, and for them, this might just be their treasured read.