Cantoras by Carolina De Robertis: Book Review

Cantoras by Carolina De Robertis is a poignant queer historical and political fiction novel set in Uruguay.

In 1977, Uruguay was in the midst of political and economic turmoil and a military regime took over and they squashed all political protests without showing any mercy toward the defenceless civilians. In this oppressive environment there is no such thing as personal freedom and homosexuality is a heinous crime that carries a severe penalty. A simple twist of fate brings Romina, Malena, Flaca, Anita also known as “La Venus” and Paz together—five cantoras, women who love women, who were extremely lucky to find one another in this time and place. These phenomenal women have done what no other woman in Uruguay’s history has ever done before—they set out on a journey to find a safe haven and they found an isolated cape called Cabo Polonio, it’s the only place where they could drop all pretences and just be themselves. Over the next four decades, their lives will be split between Cabo Polonio and Montevideo, the city they reside in and they will return to their oceanic hideaway together, sometimes in pairs, with various lovers or alone.

Throughout their lives Flaca, Romina, Malena, Anita and Paz will be challenged—by family expectations, trying to find a place for themselves in society, maintaining romantic relationships and being there for one another—as they struggle to live genuine lives free from secrets, guilt and shame.

Pros And My Favourite Parts

Carolina De Robertis deserves the highest of fives for creating this beautifully written, devastating and unforgettable novel! This author has done a fantastic job of capturing and portraying the political turmoil, fear and tension that became an everyday occurrence from the moment the coup d’état happened and the military government took over. What I loved most about this story is the fact that Flaca, Romina, La Venus, Paz and Malena had a persistent desire to take up space and create a sanctuary for themselves in the midst of a broken nation where their safety couldn’t be guaranteed even if they obeyed all the laws. Plus, these awesome women were well-developed, even the secondary characters and I felt as though I was experiencing everything they went through because the story was told through Flaca, Romina, La Venus, Paz and Malena’s points of view via their innermost thoughts.

I’m going to be totally honest and admit that this story took me on a long emotional rollercoaster ride and I couldn’t bear to put my kindle down because the characters and their circumstances broke my heart and mended it in a way that no other book has ever done before. Have I mentioned how much I adore the word Cantora? It’s a code name for women who love women and I couldn’t stop myself from smiling every time this word was mentioned. After reading this literary gem, I can’t wait to binge read more books from this amazing author!

Cons And Heads Up

There are graphic descriptions of military dictatorship, government censorship, oppression, imprisonment, rape, homophobia, torture, post-traumatic stress disorder, conversion therapy, sexism, infidelity, miscarriage, loss of family and suicide.

The Conclusion

This novel is magnificent in every sense of the word! Cantoras is a brilliant and heart-breaking story that portrays the life changing power of sisterhood and political resistance. It also shows how the deep bonds of friendship, queer relationships and hidden LGBTQ spaces have survived and thrived throughout many years of brutal dictatorship to the restoration of democracy and personal freedom in Uruguay. If you would like to get caught up in the lives of five resilient, flawed and endearing characters and learn some of Uruguay’s history along the way, then this is the perfect story for you!

Excerpt from Cantoras by Carolina De Robertis

The dunes rippled out around them, a spare landscape, the landscape of another planet, as if in leaving Montevideo they’d also managed to leave Earth, like that rocket that some years ago had taken men to the moon, only they were not men, and this was not the moon, it was something else, they were something else, uncharted by astronomers. The lighthouse rose before them, with its slowly circling light. They approached the cape along a beach, the ocean to their right, shimmering in the dark, in constant conversation with the sand. The cart passed a few small, box-like huts, fishermen’s huts, black against the black sky. They descended from the cart, paid the driver, and carried their packs stuffed with food and clothes and blankets as they wandered around, staring into the night.

The ocean surrounded them on three sides of this cape, this almost-island, a thumb extending off the hand of the known world. At last they found the right place, or the closest thing to it, an abandoned house that could act as windbreak for their camp. It was half-built, with walls only partially constructed and no roof. Four unfinished walls and open sky. Inside, there was plenty of space for them; it would have been an ample house if it hadn’t been left to be eaten by the elements. After they set up their things, they went outside and built a fire. A breeze rose. It cooled their skin as whiskey warmed it, flask moving from hand to hand. Cheese sandwiches and salami for dinner around the campfire. The thrill of lighting the wood, keeping it burning. Laughter spiked their conversation, and when it lulled, the silence had a glow to it, crackled by flames. They were happy. They were not used to being happy. The strange feeling kept them up too late together, giddy with victory and amazement. They had done it. They were out. They had shed the city like a hazardous garment and come to the edge of the world.

Finally, they drifted to their blanket piles and slept to the gentle pulse of waves.

But deep in the night, Paz startled awake. The sky glittered. The moon was low, about to set. The ocean filled her ears and she took it as an invitation, impossible to resist. She slid out of her covers and walked down over the rocks, toward the shore. The ocean roared like a hunger, reaching for her feet.

She was the youngest in the group, sixteen years old. She’d lived under the dictatorship since she was twelve. She hadn’t known air could taste like this, so wide, so open. Her body a welcome. Skin awake. The world was more than she had known, even if only for this instant, even if only in this place. She let her lips part and the breeze glided into her mouth, fresh on her tongue, full of stars. How did so much brightness fit in the night sky? How could so much ocean fit inside her? Who was she in this place? 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. She felt free.

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