IN 1977, the year in which Carolina De Robertis’ novel Cantoras opens, Cabo Polonio was a remote fishing village, a rocky yet serene outcropping on the coast of Uruguay. When the novel begins, its five main characters—Romina, Flaca, Paz, Malena, and Anita a.k.a. La Venus—arrive at the village late at night, having endured a five-hour-long bus ride and the warnings of a cart driver who said they would find nothing in Polonio, to escape the oppression of Montevideo, where the women could be not be themselves without the threat of torture or even death at the hands of the brutal, homophobic dictatorship. They are cantoras, which we learn is a slang term for queer women. For cantoras, Polonio is a reprieve, the one safe space they can claim for themselves in a country that wants them dead. No wonder that they cling to it even after their vacation from their lives is over.
After a week of freedom—of sex in the open and roasting fish over an open fire—the five women reluctantly return to their lives. Some have husbands; others have jobs.
Unfortunately, even lesbian-owned safe spaces can be dangerous. In addition to the occasional infighting and disagreements among the women, which grow more serious as the romantic entanglements between them complicate their friendships, La Proa is slowly beset by the outside world. First, soldiers establish a base not far away, and young Paz, made brave by the liberating feeling of co-owning a house, soon gets into trouble with the soldiers and the self-righteous government leaders they serve. Though Paz escapes this episode relatively unscathed, the experience heralds worse things to come. Tourists invade Polonio, and the once free and undeveloped beaches become overrun by rules and resorts. Through it all, the cantoras keep coming back to the shack, often in pairs, sometimes all at once, as they turn their tiny hut into a cozy, vibrant vacation cottage on the shore.
Thirty-six years pass in the course of the novel, and much has changed—not only for the characters and the objects of their affection but also for the village and the country. In August of 2013, Uruguay legalized same-sex marriage, and this milestone marks the end of the novel and the beginning of a new chapter in the lives of the cantoras. Through it all, the women live and work and claim space for themselves despite the risks, including the very real threat of murder or of a quiet disappearance at the hands of their country’s conservatives. As a result, the novel itself becomes an act of rebellion, a defiant work of literature that actively seeks to counter the prevailing narratives of its social setting. Cantoras is a brilliant, multi-layered novel that depicts the fullness and resilience of queer life even in the darkest times.
Ruth Joffre is the author of the story collection Night Beast.
