Vincent Traughber Meis’s Iguana is an evocative and immersive novel that follows Dawson Wozniak’s journey as he uproots his life and moves to Mexico in search of reinvention. As he navigates his new world—full of vibrant streets, enigmatic encounters, and the weight of personal history—he finds himself entangled in a growing attraction to Ivan, a brooding building manager. What begins as an introspective exploration of self quickly takes a dramatic turn when a tragic accident unfolds, throwing Dawson into the heart of a mystery. At once a meditation on identity, desire, and human connection, Iguana grips the reader with a blend of lush descriptions, internal musings, and the undeniable pull of suspense.

Meis has a gift for painting a vivid scene. From the opening encounter with the titular iguana—an ominous, almost mythical creature perched above Dawson on a branch—the novel layers its themes of observation, displacement, and power. The way the iguana stares, unbothered and unmoved, mirrors Dawson’s internal struggle as an outsider looking in, constantly trying to decode his place in a land that both welcomes and resists him. There’s something hypnotic about the prose, how it lingers on the humidity in the air, the marketplace’s sensory overload, and the quiet tension that seems to simmer beneath every conversation.

But beyond the scenery, Iguana excels in its complex and flawed characters. Dawson’s attraction to Ivan is frustrating in the best way. Meis captures that intoxicating mix of longing and uncertainty so well. One of the book’s most compelling moments is when Dawson and Ivan share their charged, rain-soaked night on the balcony. It’s raw, electric, and then suddenly shattered by the tragedy unfolding above them. The push-and-pull dynamic between these two men is rendered with such depth that you feel every hesitation, every moment of vulnerability, and every unspoken truth hanging between them.

The novel’s pacing shifts dramatically after the rooftop accident, and that’s where Iguana truly becomes something more than just an expat’s musings on a new life. The tension builds as Dawson and Ivan navigate the aftermath, their connection becoming a casualty of guilt and self-preservation. The weight of secrets—what’s spoken and what’s withheld—adds an almost noir-like quality to the story. The way Meis handles the police investigation, the social dynamics at play, and the quiet, gnawing suspicion that the truth will never fully come to light is fantastic. And through it all, there’s a heartbreakingly human element—Dawson’s need to be seen, to be understood, to be loved—clashing against the realities of a world that often doesn’t allow for such easy resolutions.

By the time I reached the final pages, I felt gutted in the best way. Iguana isn’t a book that ties things up neatly with a bow, and I love that about it. If you enjoy literary fiction that blends rich settings, slow-burning romance, and a hint of mystery, this is for you. It’s for those who appreciate characters that feel painfully real and narratives that don’t force closure where there is none.

Pages: 351 | ASIN : B0DZ99B2B9