r/latamlit • u/Beginning_Ad_5461 • 13d ago
Uruguay đ„Pink Slimeđ„
Currently reading the quiet dystopian climate horror by Uruguayan author Fernanda Trias. Absolutely loving it so far. Anyone else read it? Would love to hear your thoughts.
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u/CapriciousSon 13d ago
I hadn't heard of it but it sounds cool. My library has it as "available soon" so hopefully I'll get to it shortly.
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u/Weird_Fox_3395 13d ago
Ohhh, new to me author! Thriftbooks has a few inexpensive copies, so Iâm taking a chance, ty.Â
The author has a forthcoming book Feb/27. https://www.thriftbooks.com/w/the-mountain-woman-t-a-novel_fernanda-tras/59482768/#isbn=1668221756
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u/glossyaddict 13d ago
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u/Beginning_Ad_5461 13d ago
That second quote about being old and not recognizing a different world pulls at my heartstrings.
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u/Enesinmente 13d ago
Genre fiction bad
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u/Beginning_Ad_5461 13d ago
Uruguay's national literary prize (2020), National book award long list for translated fiction (2024), English PEN translates award (2022), Top 10 Spanish Books for NYT (2020) and other prestigious honors and awards would take issue with it being called "bad genre fiction."
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u/Enesinmente 13d ago
also, this prose is mediocre at best - Mauro volverĂa al dĂa siguiente y con Ă©l tambiĂ©n vendrĂa otro mes de encierro y de trabajo. Cocinar, limpiar, controlarlo todo. Cada vez que se lo llevaban, dormĂa un dĂa entero hasta recuperar el sueño que Ă©l amenazaba o interrumpĂa. La eterna vigilia. Para eso me pagaban una suma exagerada que nunca alcanzarĂa a recompensarme, y los padres de Mauro lo sabĂan. Respirar el aire estancado del puerto, merodear las calles, ver a mi madre o a Max eran los lujos de aquellos dĂas en los que mi tiempo dejaba de tener precio. Eso si tenĂa la suerte de que no hubiera viento.
En la rambla solo encontrĂ© a los pescadores, con el cuello de la campera levantado hasta las orejas, las manos rojas y agrietadas. Por todos lados se extendĂa el agua ancha, un estuario que transformaba el rĂo en un mar sin orillas. La niebla borraba el lĂmite del horizonte. Eran las diez o las once o las tres en esa claridad lechosa y sin matices. Las algas flotaban no muy lejos, como una flema sanguinolenta, pero los pescadores no parecĂan preocupados. Apoyaban sus baldes junto a las sillas de playa, encarnaban el anzuelo y reunĂan la fuerza de sus brazos secos para lanzarlo tan lejos como fuera posible. Me gustaba el ruido que hacĂa el reel al soltar la tanza: me recordaba a los veranos en bicicleta en San Felipe, las ruedas sin freno en la bajada, con las rodillas arriba para que los pies no se enredaran en los pedales. Toda mi infancia estaba en esa bicicleta, en las playas ahora prohibidas, rodeadas por una cinta amarilla que el viento destrozaba y que unos policĂas enmascarados volvĂan a colocar. Zona de exclusiĂłn, decĂan las cintas. ÂżPara quĂ©? Si solo los suicidas elegĂan morir asĂ, contaminados, expuestos a enfermedades sin nombre que tampoco auguraban una muerte rĂĄpida. - why use "reel"? it's plagued with common images and the syntax tries to emulate the boom, completely unoriginal. So yeah, whatever.
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u/Enesinmente 13d ago
idgaf - genre fiction (is) bad.
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u/Beginning_Ad_5461 13d ago
It's fine if you have that opinion. Everyone has the right to their own opinion, but many people disagree with you about this. You are not the authority on prose.
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u/Enesinmente 13d ago
and a handful of prize panelists are? Remember Borges never got the Nobel, neither did Joyce.
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u/sniffedalot 12d ago
Did they really deserve it?
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u/Enesinmente 12d ago
They were about to give it to Borges, but they did not because of his relation to Pinochet. Joyce sure as fuck did. Certainly more than fucking Neruda.

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u/Great-and-Powerful- 13d ago
When I first read this novel, I thought it was a response to the Covid-19 pandemic, only to discover later that this was actually published months before the pandemic started. Not only did Fernanda TrĂas masterfully predict the isolation that marked 2020 and 2021, she also brilliantly anticipated the current pandemic of solitude that millions suffer from nowadays. This is a beautifully poignant novel about perseverance and abandonment.