Panza de burro

this was one of those books I only discovered after wandering around the bookstore for hours, waiting for something to catch my eye and beg to be taken home. this one shouted at me - with its title, cover, premise - and I’m so glad I listened. Andrea does something absolutely incredible, something I’ve also recognized in other authors like Layla Martinez and Irene Solà: she writes in a way I’ve simply never, ever seen before.

It’s striking how these women manage to write from the gut; more, with their guts - that’s really what it is. they spill their pain, love, rage, disgust, and violence onto the page exactly as they felt and feel it, with no filter or polish, as if they opened up their stomachs and laid everything bare in front of us, without shame or flinching. that’s how we end up with works like this, unlike anything else — in my opinion. they speak to us face-to-face, in the language of our childhoods and teenage years, or of our aunts and grandmothers, our mothers or the old women of the village.

the author doesn't just tell a story - she creates a world so solid, so close to the one we know (yet with its own peculiarities) that it’s impossible to pass through it to the other side, it’s too thick, too dense. the language and form in this book are brilliant too: a mix of the popular people and from the teenagers who live far from everything and slowly learn about the world through "méssejer" and other ways that bring news, bit by bit, to places where nothing moves or changes, not even the wind.

preserving the unique ways of speaking in the Canary Islands isn’t just a valuable and remarkable political or social act of rebelion - it's literary gold. and here, the excellent translation work must be also acknowledged. the collaboration between the Portuguese and Spanish translators resulted, in my opinion, in one of the best translations I’ve ever read. sure, I didn’t read the original, and I know nothing about translation, but I know that I never once felt like I was reading one (which often happens to me), and at a certain point, I honestly forgot I wasn’t reading Andrea Abreu’s exact, original, words.

the author has been compared to Ferrante, and I get why - it's especially obvious in the friendship-competition-desire dynamic between the female protagonists (Isora and the narrator here, Lila and Elena in Ferrante). I have to say - and maybe this is just a personal thing - that this kind of dynamic isn’t really my favorite thing; in fact, it makes me deeply uncomfortable (which I suppose is partly the point).

maybe it’s because I was once the kind of kid who would “jump off the bridge if she told me to” for my best friend, but I find it hard to relate to the “leaders” of these pairs — Lila and Isora, and their meaningless and casual cruelty. I know the complexity and violence in these relationships is intentional (and masterfully crafted), but it always makes me feel a bit more distant from the characters.

that’s probably one of the only things I “liked less” about the book, although obviously, it’s completely personal and tied to my own feelings, haha. additionally, I just feel like the characters (all of them, really) are so rich that they deserved a bit more development, and that the real ending of the story comes just before the final page. I think it would’ve been stronger if it had ended slightly earlier.

still, I’m giving it five stars — because, once again, I’ve never seen anything like it, and I’m in love with Andrea.

Me gustó muchísimo el libro. Me recordó a mi infancia, a las calles de mi pueblo en Tenerife, a los veranos, a cuando sabíamos aburrirnos y nos aburríamos, a ese tiempo que en el recuerdo nos parece un pasado más sencillo pero que en el momento contenía las mismas angustias que el presente. Que forma tan bonita de recordar el hablar de los mayores, las palabras con las que me crié y el dolor que causan las peleas de niño, el no sentirte del todo parte, el estar a la sombra de otros y la pérdida, la pérdida eterna que no tiene solución. Lo recomiendo muchísimo.

Muy bien, pero.

Estilo marcadamente oral. Interesante.

Por momentos desgarrador. Brutal. Y divertido. Tierno.

3,5 / 5

“
y cuando Isora y yo leiamos las frases de}}qye habiamos ido copiando en La LiBreeTa De LasSsS kAnCIoONeS,nos gustaba decir que si las guardabamos durante mucho tiempo,cuando fueramos grandes íbamos a saber muchas mas cosas del amor que la otra gente.
...
2)kuando se pierde 1 amr n tu vision & n tu mente cambia todoOo.
“

Un libro que desde el principio te transporta a otro lugar, un lugar que me resultó tan ajeno como el lenguaje en el que está escrito, pero a la vez extremadamente cautivador.

La lengua, la oralidad, las palabras son casi un personaje más, casi el narrador de una historia que al principio parece sencilla, relatos de una infancia rural. El lenguaje era música, era exótico, era algo que ponía una distancia enorme entre el texto y yo, lo que me permitía disfrutarlo. Pero en el avance del libro, la lengua se convirtió en una especie de escudo contra la incomodidad de las situaciones que se narran. Palabras que me resultan extrañas pero que cuentan escenas terribles, universales.