Cantoras

Product Information

Opening in 1977, four years after a US-backed coup d'etat destroyed democracy in Uruguay and ushered in a military dictatorship, Cantoras opens up the lives of five women — friends, lovers, freedom fighters, artists — all queer at a time when revealing one's true sexuality could be a death sentence.

Bohaterki będą wieść życie pomiędzy Montevideo, a odludziem, tworząc “coś w rodzaju rodziny, utkanej z wyrzutków społeczeństwa niczym kapa uszyta ze zbędnych resztek materiału”. For a full review of the story, including content warnings, please read my first review on the paperback version.Zmieniają się ich relacje, jedne związki się rozpadają, inne się pojawiają, a bohaterki powoli od siebie się oddalają, ale bezpieczna przystań na bezludziu wciąż jest wybawieniem od opresyjnej codzienności. She describes Montevideo during the junta as a place where curiosity dies, “a place to shrink into yourself and mind your own business.

Five queer women trying to live their lives under a dictatorship that would punish them for who they are if they were ever found out. The political landscape is woven into their lives and I found myself being educated with little effort. From the highly acclaimed, award-winning author of The Gods of Tango, a revolutionary new novel about five wildly different women who, in the midst of the Uruguayan dictatorship, find each other as lovers, friends, and ultimately, family.The older (and crankier) i grow, the more i value Vonnegut’s concept of the granfalloon, as representing most families - the artifice of commonality. Standing on that shore, staring out at the Atlantic, with those women who were not like other women sleeping a few meters away, she felt a sensation so foreign that she almost collapsed under its spell. How does each woman’s relationship with her parents affect the ways in which she understands and interacts with both the dictatorship and her own identities? Revisiting the book after only one month since finishing it for the first time and flipping through the pages everyday for the past weeks, I’d say a sizable chunk of the writing was already forever seared into my memory. I could have read an entire book of De Robertis just describing the scenery at Cabo Polonio in all of its wild, aching beauty.

Because I can relate so much with this story – I visited Montevideo and Cabo Polonio a few times and I even drink “yerba mate” every day as the mains do – it’s hard to see if a foreigner to this culture will viscerally understand the story as I did. At once timeless and groundbreaking, Cantoras is a tale about the fire in all our souls and those who make it burn. Throughout it all, they will be tested repeatedly—by their families, lovers, society, and one another—as they fight to live authentic lives. And so when I crossed paths again with Cantoras in the library last week, I felt it might be the time. The ocean surrounded them on three sides of this cape, this almost-island, a thumb extending off the hand of the known world.Five queer women trying to carve a place for themselves in the middle of an oppressive dictatorship. Sam ten pomysł może wydawać się sztuczny i niekoniecznie oryginalny, ale De Robertis po mistrzowsku opisuje napięcia między swoimi bohaterkami, pokazując jak wiele odcieni może mieć relacja w kobiecym stadzie.

And it tackles what it means to live, survive, and belong to each other and to a land that’s far older than the soldiers and the generals who try to redefine it and soil it. They find a place in an isolated coastal village, a place that will cement their love, friendships and provide a stable base throughout the years.Laughter spiked their conversation, and when it lulled, the silence had a glow to it, crackled by flames. These five women – “cantoras” (meaning singers but also the slang term for lesbians) – are united by a strong friendship starting in Montevideo (Uruguay’s capital) following to Cabo Polonio, an uninhabited cape located a few hours away.