Thank you to Farrar, Straus and Giroux (FSG) and NetGalley for an advanced reader copy of Three Stories of Forgetting in exchange for an honest and unbiased review.

'Three Stories of Forgetting' tells three interconnected stories that trace the lives of three men haunted by the legacies of slavery and colonialism. An aging slave trader, a disillusioned war veteran, and a former slave each grapple with guilt, memory, and exile in a world shaped by the wreckage of the Portuguese Empire. Their fates blur the line between historical reckoning and personal oblivion as they approach the end of their lives and reflect on their own stories.

I am confident this is an example of 'good book, wrong person'. Knowing little about the Portuguese slave trade (and honestly, Portugal in general), I was excited by the premise to hear great stories and learn something at the same time. However, this book did not give me what I wanted.
These stories are character-driven reflection pieces where we spend our time lost in the reflections and thoughts of the men; their memories of the past intermingling with the present as they reflect on their lives and the world around them. As their health decays, hallucinations also play a role in their thoughts as the past they sometimes want to forget quite literally comes to haunt them.
There's little by way of narrative, and what there is is awash in a sea of metaphor, extravagant prose, and a unique writing style. There were times I was flat out confused about what was going on. The three stories share a common theme but aren't linked or connected in any way, so while this enabled me to enter each story hopeful for a change in pace, it meant what I disliked about one was typically present across all three.
The opening story about the sea captain was probably my favourite, while the former soldier's story was my least (and was also unfortunately the longest). The writer writes melancholy and regret really well, and despite not vibing with the book, it still gave me emotional pangs in places which are a credit to Djaimilia Pereira de Almeida.
I'm sure there's plenty of people who will love this, and will see my review and assume I'm too low-brow for a book like this. And that may very well be true. But if you are a reader that likes a more narrative driven book like me, and prefer grounded stories over the abstract, I don't think this is for you.

Thank you to the publisher for the very generous e-ARC of this fantastic book, Three Stories of Forgetting.

de Almeida is a fantastic Portuguese novelist of Angolan descent. I was really excited to read this book as I know little about the role Portugal played in European colonialism and I was keen to learn more about people's stories and experiences of living during the transatlantic slave trade, the peak of colonialism and in post-colonial nations from this perspective.

Three Stories of Forgetting is what it says on the tin - three stories, following three men who live with the aftermath and legacy of Portuguese colonialism. First, we follow a slave trader as he becomes old, senile, and dies, haunted by the atrocities he committed. Secondly, we follow an Angolan man who served for Portugal during the Colonial War, and finally, a man who is drawn into the world of literature and psychiatry by an old slave.

What is special about de Almeida's writing is their ability to succinctly reflect on the personal aspects of living within the spoils of Empire, living with the memories of war, living with the atrocities slave-traders committed. At points de Almeida's writing is highly poetic, blazing with beautiful, astounding and challenging reflections on the emotion and history of colonialism and Empire.

I would recommend this book to anyone interested in learning more about the Portuguese Empire or about more contemporary post-colonial politics.

Thank you once again for the e-ARC!

“The present is dumb as a mule compared to the past, even when the past was a beast of burden.”

Three Stories of Forgetting is a quiet, introspective collection that examines memory, guilt, colonial legacies, and the fragile ways in which people carry — or suppress — their pasts. While each novella introduces a different protagonist, setting, and time period, they all orbit around similar themes: the weight of history, displacement, and the complex relationship between forgetting and survival. The prose throughout is evocative and often beautifully written, though sometimes veering into what some readers may find as overly elaborate. Almeida’s style is highly introspective, prioritizing mood and atmosphere over plot, which may resonate strongly with some readers, but might prove challenging for those who need a clearer narrative arc to remain engaged — as I’ve discovered about my own reading preferences.
The first novella, A Vision of Plants (★★★✰✰), follows Captain Celestino, a retired sea captain who returns home to a house overtaken by nature. The garden, wild and indifferent, serves as both setting and metaphor for Celestino’s internal state: a man silently haunted by his past, complicit in the slave trade. The narrative is quiet, haunting, and laced with a sense of detachment. Celestino’s fading memory and nature’s indifferent rhythm create a powerful meditation on historical guilt and personal erasure.
In Seaquake (★★✰✰✰), the second novella, Almeida shifts to a more confessional tone. Boa Morte, an Angolan man living in Lisbon, writes to his estranged daughter, reflecting on his current existence on the margins of society. Themes of invisibility, alienation, and displacement come into sharp focus here. Boa Morte describes himself as “a man without baggage, a sailor without a ship,” lost in a city where he and others like him move unseen, yet share in one another's silent pain. This story leans more into personal testimony, but its meandering narrative made it difficult for me to fully connect emotionally.
The final novella, Bruma (★★✰✰✰), ventures even deeper into the realm of memory and imagination. Here, Bruma — an enslaved man reflecting on his life in early 19th-century Portugal — turns to stories and internal fantasy as a way to cope with brutal reality. His imagination becomes his refuge, helping him survive the harshness of his existence. As the novella progresses, the boundaries between fact and fantasy blur, and the reader is left questioning how much of Bruma’s account is memory and how much is invention. This ambiguity feels intentional, illustrating how memory and imagination can simultaneously preserve and distort one’s sense of self.
Across all three novellas, Almeida explores the many forms of forgetting — deliberate, unconscious, protective — and the ways individuals navigate guilt, trauma, and identity when the weight of history threatens to overwhelm them. The recurring ambiguity — both in narrative and moral clarity — is one of the collection’s strengths, though it may also create a sense of emotional distance for some readers, as it did for me at times.
I always do my best to give books a fair chance. While I appreciated the opportunity to read this collection, I found my engagement varied across the stories. The first story was the most successful for me, while the second felt difficult to connect with emotionally, and the third, while stronger than the second, still left me somewhat detached. Ultimately, I appreciate the important themes explored, the beautiful, if sometimes overly elaborate prose, and the psychological complexity of the characters. For readers who enjoy quiet, character-driven, thematically rich narratives with a strong focus on memory and history, Three Stories of Forgetting will likely prove rewarding.

What a thought provoking and informative read. Not that familiar with the history of Portuguese colonialism myself, this novel creatively educated me on the topic. The novel itself contains three stories, each centering around a different protagonist. The point of commonality, as the title suggests, is a desire to forget both the past and present. Underlining all of the stories, is a sense of regret for matters both in and out of the protagonists’ control.

Thinking about the stories individually, I will lay out my thoughts below.

A Vision of Plants
My personal favorite of the stories. Captain Celestino is a wonderfully morally grey (maybe worse than grey) character. The narrative style switching between a third person narrator and then Celestino’s own disjointed thoughts, provided a deeper perspective into his journey of forgetting his past. Additionally, the metaphor of his garden as the people he wronged and his willingness to be enslaved by it was beautifully written.

Seaquake
I struggled a bit with this one. While Boa Morte was a fascinating character to follow, I didn't actually like the narrative jumps in this story. It became hard to follow, and not necessarily in a thought provoking way. The pacing also felt a little off, there were some sections that seemed a bit too long. Nevertheless, Boa Morte writing to his daughter about his life and what gives it meaning was heart-wrenching to read.

Bruma
Unlike "Seaquake" this one was confusing in a way that worked. The entire story is about the slave Bruma's desire to escape his employment. We learn about his “cabin in the forest,” a realm which gives meaning and interest to his otherwise mundane and unfair life. Over the course of the story, Bruma’s imagination begins to take over completely. By the end, the reader is uncertain what is real vs. what is a creation of Bruma’s mind.

All of these deeply character based stories made an impact on me. The only reason I am rating this a four instead of a five, is because there were some elements of the writing style that didn’t quote work for me. Despite that, I would definitely recommend this book to anyone looking for a deliberate character study, especially one within the context of Portuguese colonialism.