Guillermo Cabrera Infante (1929–2005)

Not sure about the three stories on their own, but together they make an interesting juxtaposition -- the same man, same cafe, a woman, but the times are different, the music is different and the woman's actions are different. Can't say that I really 'got' what these stories are about, but the setting was interesting to me.
I most enjoyed the first story because of the Santeria rite they attend, the people all dressed in white, the dancing, the strangeness of it. Reminds me of a story my mom told me about when she was a little girl in Cuba. Her grandmother from the Canary Islands had a respect for Santeria. Her grandmother wanted to take her to a Santeria rite similar to what was described in the first story, and my mother' mother (the daughter of this grandmother) told her that if she feels uncomfortable at the rite, to tell her grandma she wants to go home. She went and did feel freaked out and asked her grandmother to take her home. The funny thing is that many years later, my mother, a very religious Catholic, started attending ecumenical services, speaking in tongues. A frightening thing for me to witness, so much so that she only did that once in front of me probably because the look on my face was clearly one of full-on horror. My mom invited me to a "healing" service at the Anaheim Convention center. I went (I was either in high school or first year of college). I disliked it from the start. There was a weird excitement that bordered on hysteria in the crowd, and once the minister started "healing" people, I couldn't take it, I had to leave.
Anyway, the language is flowing and interesting, I certainly wanted to know what was happening and enjoyed them enough to finish the trio.… (more)

Nothing to see here people. Move along.

At least, if you’ve read any Sterne (1759) or later Joyce or Tristram Shandy or Ulysses (1904) in particular, you will find all this (1967) has been done long, long before, and it will start to pale on you very shortly after you begin the novel.

Worse, though, is that it hails from Latin America, an area of the world I’ve long had no literary inspiration from, with one minor exception. That only compounded my misery.

In fact, I’m betting the only reason it’s on the 1001 books list is its Cuban origin, as if to say, “Look, they finally figured out how to write copy crazy stuff over there, too.”… (more)

I was dizzy and short of breath when I finally saw this on the shelves at Twice-Told back in my Boom days. My vertigo may have been induced by the fact that I lived on espresso and spent all food money on books and cds. Those were strange times of death-trap automobiles and working two full-time jobs to remain poor but literate.

The friendship displayed in the Three Trapped Tigers was beyond moving. The erudition itself was arresting but the emotional bond within the text captured me. I have felt those sinuous bonds throughout my life but this was a confirmation, especially at such a vulnerable juncture. One's youth is so vulnerable, later it becomes simply debatable.… (more)