“Bad Habit” by Alana S. Portero: In Between Self-Acceptance And Self-Erasure (BOOK REVIEW)

In Between Self-Acceptance And Self-Erasure

Hey, Alex! What have you been reading lately?

I finally got around to reading Bad Habit by Alana S. Portero, which is funny because I bought my copy nearly a year ago for two resons: 1) Dua Lipa has read it, and 2) the cover.

They say never judge a book by its cover. I say always pick one because of it.

I ended up reading Bad Habit earlier this April while I was in Madrid, the very city the novel is rooted in, and honestly I could not have planned it better. It was my first solo trip somewhere I’d never been before, and Portero became this quiet companion in my tote bag. I’d spend the day wandering through plazas and side streets, then return to the book and see the city through the eyes of someone who had lived there her entire life. It made my experience feel richer, sharper, and more alive.

Some books find you at the right time. This one absolutely did.

Tell me more. What is the book about?

Bad Habit is a coming-of-age story following a trans girl growing up in the working-class outskirts of Madrid in the 80s and 90s, trying to understand herself in a world that would rather she stayed behind the covers.

It is a book about identity, sexuality, class, fear and desire, and the exhausting labour of becoming yourself when your surroundings keep insisting you shouldn’t exist. It follows the character from early childhood, where she first senses who she is, through adolescence, first love, repression, violence, and eventually into adulthood where self-acceptance becomes both liberation and battle.

At its heart, Bad Habit is about searching: for language, for community, for role models, for mirrors that reflect something back to you other than shame. And finally, it is about learning to love yourself when nobody taught you how to do so.

What are some strong and weak points of the book?

The writing is breathtaking. Truly. From the very first paragraph, Portero pulls you in with her extraordinary voice. She describes male junkies in San Blas as fallen angels, and that’s the kind of energy we are dealing with in the universe of Bad Habit. Even the bleakest corners of the novel are lit by language that feels luminous.

There were so many moments where I had to stop and reread a paragraph immediately, not because it was confusing, but because it was so exquisitely wrapped in language. Whether Portero is writing about loneliness, humiliation, euphoria, or desire, she does so where her sentences feel considered and alive.

Another thing I very much enjoyed were the touches of Greek mythology throughout. Characters are framed like witches, monsters, divine creatures, women pushed to the margins and transformed into something powerful because of it. Many of these women later become the narrator’s confidantes, protectors, chosen family. It gives the novel this almost sacred sense of survival throughout all the secrecy.

Those women are some of the most affecting parts of the story. Caramel, Margaret, María – figures dismissed or ostracised by society because of their work, looks, age, or background. They become examples of strength and womanhood for the narrator. They challenge every narrow definition of what a “real woman” is supposed to be.

If I had one criticism, it is that the beauty of the prose occasionally slowed me down. Not in a bad way, but in a way that kept pulling me out of momentum because I wanted to savour every word on the page. It reads like poetry while still being accessible, but sometimes the elegance of the writing competes with the pace of the story itself.

Any final thoughts? Should I read it too?

Yes. But be aware that it isn’t a simple read.

It is just over 200 pages, yet it carries enormous emotional weight. There are moments of graphic violence here, especially toward the end, alongside the narrator’s internal struggle to come out and accept herself. It can be painful, enraging, and sad.

But it is also compassionate, intelligent, and full of life. Portero writes with such dignity about people society tries to erase that reading it feels like witnessing an act of resistance.

I am so grateful I got to read this book in Bad Habit’s hometown. To me, Madrid feels like a city built for freedom. Walkable, sunny, sociable, and never too frantic. A place that invites you to be outside and present instead of constantly rushing to be somewhere else.

Reading Bad Habit there gave me a more complicated and honest version of the city. Through the narrator’s life, Madrid becomes a place shaped by class divides, violence, repression, and hidden identities. It reminded me that every city contains multiple truths depending on who gets to move through it safely.

As someone just passing through, I saw beauty. Through the eyes of the main character, I saw what that beauty can conceal.

I think Bad Habit is one of those books everyone should read at some point in their life. It expands your empathy while giving you something genuinely beautiful to sit with.

Some novels entertain you. Some novels sharpen how you see other people. Bad Habit does both.

Thank you so much!! Are there any similar books that you can recommend?

🌌 Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz – two Mexican-American teenage boys form a life-changing friendship that grows into first love.

🎺 Trumpet by Jackie Kay – after the death of a celebrated jazz musician, his wife and son are forced to confront the secret that he was transgender while the media tears their family apart.

📲 limaistyping…

rating: ☀️☀️☀️☀️
tropes: 🏳️‍⚧️ trans narrative | 💀 historical fiction | 🌱 coming-of-age | 🥊 violence | 💇‍♀️ self-reinvention
read if you like: patatas bravas, high boots, Greek mythology, Madrid, long walks
look out for: 💄 makeup tutorials | 🧙‍♀️ witches/role models | ☕️ cafés in Chueca | 🍮 Caramel | ✊ rebellious women
Reading this feels like walking home after sunset – the danger lurking in the shadows, the beauty of the night and the adrenaline from experiencing both at the same time.