A review by biblio_gabriella
Cantoras by Caro De Robertis

dark emotional funny hopeful informative inspiring reflective sad tense medium-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? Character
  • Strong character development? Yes
  • Loveable characters? Yes
  • Diverse cast of characters? Yes
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

5.0

11/19/20 (initial thoughts): In my 22 years of being alive, I have never once cried over a piece of fiction until today. Carolina de Robertis has accomplished the impossible...

12/21/20 (second read):

"It seemed, at times, that this was the only way the world would be remade as the heroes had dreamed: one woman holds another woman, and she in turn lifts the world."



I initially wasn’t going to write this review. I was going to leave it at the two-line review above, because I thought that was all that needed to be said. But now, after having read this book a second time, I’m going to let it all out. So, why did Cantoras make me, a notorious non-crier, SOB like you’d never believe, days and even weeks after the first read? As it turns out, I’m kind of a detached reader. I feel things as I read, of course, but there’s this wall in me that prevents me from taking on the characters’ emotions as my own. I can shut a book and marvel at its brilliance, can place the book on my Favorites shelf, but I don’t really lose myself in the book’s world. I’m no stranger to touching books. The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, Lilac Girls, The Kite Runner, The Miseducation of Cameron Post…each of these books could have made me cry. So, what is it about Cantoras that finally cracked me? Why this book? Well, I finally have an answer, which can be found in the first chapter.

The first chapter, aptly titled “Escape,” introduces us to the five women, each incredibly distinct, who have taken up residence in my heart and will never leave.

Flaca (21): She’s the leader, the one who started it all, La Pilota. Her confident swagger can’t hide the heart that’s too big for her chest. She does everything she can to keep the family together.
Romina (22): She’s at once the voice of reason, pessimism, and passion. I wanted to hug her, to shake her, to laugh with her. At times I loved her, at times I hated her, and at times I felt for her so much that my heart physically ached.
Anita “La Venus” (27): She’s a free spirit trapped in a life she doesn’t want. Despite everything, she sparkles and makes me think of bright colors. She’s the oldest but has the youngest soul. She is “art” personified.
Malena (25): The one who takes up the most space in my heart, who occupies the #1 spot on the list of Characters Gabriella Would Die For. She’s guarded and prickly, but she’s achingly perceptive and empathetic. She may be quiet, but as they say, still waters run deep.
Paz (16): She’s the youngest, but she’s far from naïve. She’s a dreamer, a hustler, and everything in between. Her vulnerability twisted my heart, made me protective, made me want to fight the world for her.

Each of these women needs respite from the oppressiveness that is 1977 Montevideo, Uruguay. Due the unshakeable friendship of Flaca and Romina, this group of five queer women takes a journey to Cabo Polonio, a remote cape, where they are free to be themselves for a week. Aside from Flaca and Romina, no one really knows one another, but their common goal unites them instantly.

"They’d been forming a kind of family, woven from cast-offs, like a quilt made from strips of leftover fabric no one wanted. They wanted each other. They had to stay woven. They could not fray."

In Chapter One, their bond ignites like crackling flame. They’re finally able to be themselves, take off their masks; the five-way bond is titillating. Carolina de Robertis weaves a five-way lifeline, using words in the most exquisite way possible, bringing these characters to life for me. Somewhere in this chapter, while I didn’t realize it at the time,  my detachment floated away, forever lost to the ocean near Cabo Polonio. These characters became my friends, my family, my heart. From then on, their triumphs and their heartbreaks became my own. I wanted to step through the pages, travel to another time and place, look each woman in the eye and say, “I will do everything in my power to make sure you stay happy like this, that the lights from your first visit to Cabo Polonio never fade.”

My idealized visions were impossible, of course, since this is a novel about the harsh realities of dictatorship, prejudice, and the ways we can hurt the ones we love. And oh god, the realities are harsh. Certain events felt like someone was twisting a knife through my heart; I had no idea that I would ever be able to experience pain like that from a piece of fiction. It was so painful that, during the first days post-read, parts of me regretted reading the book. But oh my god, a part of me knew I was done for before even finishing that first chapter. That I would go down with the proverbial ship (the ship being this whole book). And all that beauty, that beautifully healing ending, made it so, so worth it.

(4/23/21: I'm unhinged and I made a meme because sometimes I use humor as a coping mechanism.)

 
My feelings for this book wouldn’t have been possible without Carolina de Robertis’ divine use of language. I have never read a book in which words are used so exquisitely. The opening paragraphs are omniscient; we’re on the outside, watching something incredible take flight. But soon we’re in close third person that moves seamlessly from character to character in a way that never feels like head-hopping. There are some very long sentences in this book – the kind that take up half a page – but they’re never overlong. They end exactly where they should, and each comma, each word, is so artfully placed that the sentences flow, reflect your own thoughts. And don’t even get me started on the metaphors and symbolism, which can be devoured and analyzed for hours. Seriously, it needs to be read to be believed.

This book made me feel so deeply, so wholly, that it can’t not be my favorite book of all time. Reading it has made me grow as a reader, as a thinker, as an empathizer, and as a human. This isn’t a book for everyone; it explores some very heavy topics. But if you’re up for it, if you’re in the mood to feel a queer literary story with every cell in your body, then Cantoras may be the perfect book for you.

Tl;dr (aka my reading experience summed up in Spongebob gifs (because sometimes this guy expresses emotions better than I do)):














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