Dirty Havana Trilogy

Centro Havana

by Pedro Juan Gutiérrez, Natasha Wimmer (Translator)

“A lewd, impious and brilliant novel of contemporary Cuba. In the brutality of his honesty, Mr. Gutierrez reminds one of Jean Genet and Charles Bukowski.” —New York Times

Dirty Havana Trilogy chronicles the misadventures of Pedro Juan, a former journalist now living hand to mouth in and around Cuba, half disgusted and half fascinated by the depths to which he has sunk. Collecting garbage, peddling marijuana or black-market produce, clearing undesirables off the streets, whoring himself, begging, sacrificing to the santos, Pedro Juan scrapes by under the shadow of hunger—all the while surviving through the escapist pursuit of sex. Pedro Juan’s unsentimental, mocking, yet sympathetic eye captures a shocking underbelly of today’s Cuba.

Banned in Cuba but celebrated throughout the Spanish speaking world, Gutierrez’s picaresque novel is a fierce, loving tribute to Havana and the defiant, desperate way of life that flourishes amid its decay.

Genres: Fiction, Short Stories, Literature, Latin American, Spanish Literature, Contemporary, Novels

392 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1994

About the author

Pedro Juan Gutiérrez (Matanzas, Cuba, 1950) es reconocido internacionalmente como uno de los escritores más talentosos de la actual narrativa latinoamericana. Su Ciclo de Centro Habana ha sido publicado íntegramente por Anagrama, y ha aparecido en otros idiomas en más de veinte países: Trilogía sucia de La Habana (publicada también en títulos individuales: Anclado en tierra de nadie, Nada que hacer y Sabor a mí),El Rey de La Habana (que ha sido adaptada al cine por el prestigioso director Agustí Villaronga), Animal tropical (Premio Alfonso García-Ramos), El insaciable hombre araña y Carne de perro (Premio Narrativa Sur del Mundo). También en Anagrama ha publicado las novelas Nuestro G. G. en La Habana, El nido de la serpiente. Memorias del hijo del heladero, Fabián y el caos y Estoico y frugal. Vive en La Habana y se dedica exclusivamente a la literatura y a la pintura.

Reviews

[Orsodimondo · Rating 4 out of 5]

ANIMAL TROPICAL



Il titolo è esplicito: sono tre racconti lunghi (Senza niente da fare, Ancorato alla terra di nessuno e Sapore di me), e volendo li si può considerare ‘sporchi’. Un affettuoso pugno nello stomaco. Quindi, forse, non per palati e stomaci delicati.
Pedro Juan Gutierrez, Bukowski cubano, mette in scena vite picaresche di gente che s’arrabatta, combatte la povertà, tesa ad arrivare in fondo alla giornata, un giorno alla volta, portando a casa più divertimento possibile, che si traduce principalmente in sesso, erba da fumare, rum da bere e, possibilmente, cibo per riempire lo stomaco.



Crudo, cinico, ribaldo, irriverente, duro, sfrontato, e per me, tanto divertente, il protagonista, che oltre al nome ha molto altro dell’autore, esordisce con una teoria di sfortune che schianterebbero chiunque: abbandonato dalla moglie, perso il lavoro, povero, affamato, vive in un condominio sovraffollato.
Ma non si perde d’animo, non si arrende: cerca, e trova, donne, fumo, rum. Cerca di passare la “nuttata” come meglio può all’insegna del suo personale motto:
Non bisogna lavorare tanto, la vita è breve.
Ed essendo pratico e industrioso, animato da spirito picaresco e corsaro (in quest’isola che fu abitata da pirati), inanella una serie di incontri e avventure che a me hanno strappato più di un sorriso, quando non una risata.



Sono gli anni peggiori per Cuba (peggiori?), quelli che seguono la cosiddetta fine della Guerra Fredda: l’embargo verso l’isola permane, ma l’Unione Sovietica non esiste più, il maggior sostegno dei cubani si è dissolto.
La fame e la povertà si diffondono, aumenta la voglia di scappare e abbandonare l’isola, è la seconda ondata di “marielitos”.
Ogni essere umano ha il diritto di fare quello che meglio crede e nessuno è obbligato a rispettare la regola di cui sopra.



Pedro Juan inanella amplessi furiosi e selvaggi, carnali e animali, sesso sfrenato alternato a grandi bevute, e quando possibile spesse fumate di marijuana, il suo modo per restare attaccato alla vita con unghie e denti. Vive con i sensi, e trasmette al lettore odori, umori, sapori, sudori, vagando per le viscere dell’Avana che è tutto meno quella che conoscono i turisti. L’amore, è facile immaginare, non esiste, è un lusso borghese. Si lancia a essere il protettore (sfruttatore, per quanto gentile e simpatico) di una prostituta – il vicino vende fegati da mangiare che spaccia per maiale, ma sono umani, recuperati al cimitero, o chissà, forse direttamente alla morgue.
Come succede con Bukowski, le maratone di sesso e alcol sono trampolini di lancio per brucianti riflessioni sulla vita, l'arte e la condizione umana.
La gente è il più grande spettacolo del mondo. E non si paga il biglietto.
Diceva Bukowski.
Insegnamento che Pedro Juan Gutierrez ha fatto massimamente suo in queste sue storie disperate piene di vita e vitalità.


Pedro Juan Gutierrez

[El Librero de Valentina · Rating 5 out of 5]

Bestial, crudo. Pedro Juan retrata la realidad desde la miseria, los olores, la supervivencia, la falta de oportunidades, el sexo. Una clase de cómo deben contarse las historias.

[Jeffrey Keeten · Rating 3 out of 5]

"Cities, like dreams are made of desires and fears, even if the thread of their discourse is secret, their rules are absurd, their perceptions deceitful, and everything conceals something else" Italo Clavino, Invisible Cities

***Just a word of warning there will be mature content in this review due to the explicit content of this novel.***

This novel is a series of short vignettes that are roughly in chronological order. The book is raw, focusing on the poorest of the poor of Havana. It is 1993 and Castro has just allowed his people to trade legally in US dollars and opened up the market to free enterprise. People can now own their own businesses as long as those businesses do not compete with the state. It is a society short on goods and services, very few working opportunities, and the crushing boredom of too much time and too little diversion, people are walking on the thin edge of survival every day.

The main character is Pedro Juan a man who once was a celebrity radio reporter. It is never really explained what he did, murky details, but he stepped on some toes and was fired. We meet him at one of the many low points in his life. As the book evolves it will become harder and harder to pinpoint the true low points. The book is loosely based on the real exploits of the author Pedro Juan Gutierrez.


Pedro Juan Gutierrez

"So there I was, staring out at the Caribbean, with no idea what the fuck I could do to make a few pesos. Yep, that is pretty much Pedro Juan's circumstances every day. He gets jobs as a garbageman, street sweeper, and slaughterhouse worker to name a few, but none of them pay very well and within short order he finds a reason to quit or provides them with a reason to fire him. He only takes a job out of desperation when his black market scheming quits bearing fruit or he can't find a woman to make money for him.

Havana is crumbling. The infrastructure is on life support. Bathrooms don't work, and there is no one to fix them. Grand old mansions have been turned into apartment buildings sometimes holding 400 people. The building that Pedro Juan is squatting in has an ebb and flow to it. People coming from the country, people going to jail, and people finding temporary salvation living off a foreigner keep the building occupant numbers in flux.



There is this point in the novel that for me really showed the decrepitude of the circumstances that people are reduced to. Pedro Juan is standing in line to use a bathroom on the rooftop of his building. The bathroom doesn't work and a mound of crap is slowly advancing into the room. Pedro Juan decides he can't wait any longer he craps into a piece of paper, wads it up and throws his offering onto the rooftop of the building next door. Okay maybe I have been a member of the middle class too long, but I would do any work, whatever was available, to avoid finding myself in circumstances where I am taking a crap in front of my neighbors into a piece of paper and tossing that wad like a bomb onto a neighboring building. There are people that may be there because they have no other options, but Pedro Juan has choices. He is educated and capable, but being FREE is more important.

Pedro Juan has his own theories about the horrors of being middle class. "The middle class never knows what's what. That's why they're always scared and want to be told what's wrong. They think everything's deviant behavior. It must be terrible to middle class and judge everything from a distance like that, never trying anything out for yourself." The great thing about squalor is that I don't have to live it to experience it. I can sit in my arm chair and pick up a book and spend a day in the slums of Havana or New Delhi or Detroit. I don't feel the need to experience poverty first hand.


Crumbling Cuba

When I was going to college there was many times when the gas gauge of my car was setting on empty, that blaring amber round light burning a hole into my retina. Many times I found myself with two thin dimes in my pocket and a bit hazy on the last time I had eaten. I brushed up against poverty and in no way am I making a case that I experienced any true hardship, but those brief moments of uncertainty made me realize that I was going to do everything I could to not find myself in such circumstances again.

Pedro Juan believes that living in poverty equals true freedom. Every day is a struggle to eat and afford the lifeblood of Cuba...RUM, but with no securities and no dependents he feels as free as a human being can. He has naught to lose and very little to gain. "I had nothing to do. Nothing urgent, at least. In the long term, there are always prospects, hope, the future, everything soon to be better, God our savior. But that's all always in the long term. Just now, this minute, there's nothing."

The problem with his theory is that he is most successful when he is living off of a woman. To maintain his freedom he must subjugate another. When he finds his pockets empty and his stomach growling he sends his girlfriend out to patrol the streets looking for a foreigner to screw so he can eat. He, for lack of a better term, is a pimp, a lazy pimp at that. He doesn't walk the streets providing protection for her he just lays around the apartment waiting for her to return so he can spend her money. When one woman gets smart, or finds a better position and leaves him he simply finds another.

Sex dominates the book, drips into every vignette some way or another. Pedro Juan is obsessed not only with sex, but with his Long Tom or his preferred term prick. "I have a beautiful prick, broad, dark, six inches long, with a pink, throbbing head and lots of hair. The truth is, I like my own prick, balls and pubes too. It's a sinewy, luscious, hard prick." Later in the book he is describing his package again and miracle of miracles it seems to have grown. "And I showed her my prick, eight inches of steel, thick and veined and angled to the left. If you do decide to read this book you will be subjugate to many descriptions of Pedro Juan's one-eyed wonder weasel. You will also experience his constant desire for sex. His range seems to be anyone, regardless of shape or size, who is female between the ages of 71 and 20. He may not have standards, but he does have preferences. He prefers mulattoes with large rear ends and grand tetons for breasts.

I have read and enjoyed Henry Miller, Charles Bukowski, and Jean Genet so I don't think of myself as prudish, but as I worked my way through these stories the obsession with sexual conquests and the ready complicity of all the females started to become wearisome. With very little effort he seems to convince these women to have sex with him. There is one point where he hands a woman a plate of food at his house and becomes angry shortly there after because she refuses to have sex with him. He is so used to having it all come so easily that he is outraged over any resistance.

The author has to keep reminding me that Pedro Juan is 45 because his actions, from his obsession with sexual conquest to his avoidance of any responsibility, keep me thinking he is in his early twenties. The author also in his forties when he wrote this book seems to be proud of the fact that he still has the same desires as a much younger man.

It isn't a novel that you want to sit down and read straight through. The stories start to feel repetitive. I found that the book worked better for me when I would read a few vignettes and then set it aside to read something else. I picked this book up because I really enjoy Leonardo Padura Fuentes. His noir color series about Lieutenant Mario Conde brim with sensuality and his eye for detail make me feel like I'm there and want to be there. His first book in the series Havana Red won The Cafe De Gijon Prize, The Novela Negra Prize and The Hammett Prize. If you want a subtler, but still rich with detail, introduction to Cuban culture that would be my recommendation.

[Jim Fonseca · Rating 4 out of 5]

[Revised, pictures and shelves added 8/19/22]

We’re in Havana during the economic crisis of the early-mid 1990s when people appear with buckets to ask for slices of meat off a dead horse. The political situation has changed to the point where police come down to the beach to see rafters off and wish them good luck on their dangerous trip to Florida.



We follow the main character, a man in his early 40s - he constantly reminds us how old he is. He used to be a journalist who traveled in Europe with his ex-, an artist, but he’s ended up divorced, back in Havana and working hand to mouth to survive.

What does he do? When he can find work, it is in slaughterhouses, garbage collection and factories. He also picks up cans from trash, deals drugs and fishes by floating in an inner tube along the beach. He captures pigeons for sacrifice in Santeria ceremonies – there’s a job description for you. Often he lives off his women and even acts as a pimp. He’s spent time behind bars (of both types, lol).

Housing is atrocious: sewers back up into the first floors; water and electricity operate sporadically. Elevators never work, so people walk up 9- and 12-story buildings daily, lugging buckets of water. Up to a dozen families share a bathroom and some folks don’t bother waiting, so they use the stairway, the elevator or the roof. It’s not a pretty picture.

Daily life is a constant struggle to get food and basic necessities such as soap. And in our narrator’s case, his necessities include beer, rot-gut rum and cigarettes. The crowded conditions lead to social dysfunction, spousal abuse, alcoholism, suicides and even murder.

Our man has an eye for the women, married or not, and there is a lot of graphic sex to the point where some may find the book pornographic. He tells us he is mulatto, “but nearly white,” and he loves to make politically incorrect statements. A less kind assessment would say he is racist, homophobic and misogynistic. The story is spiced with black humor.

The book has an odd structure. The first two sections of the trilogy are extended short stories, but they are interconnected and both involve the same narrator. The last third are short stories again but not all involve the narrator.

A kindred novel covering the same down-and-out folks at about the same point in history is Cold Havana Ground by Arnaldo Correa, a mystery. Other ‘down-and-out’ books about Cuba I have reviewed include Sugar Island by Ivonne Lamazares and 33 Revolutions by Canek Sanchez Guevara (Che’s grandson). (See my Cuban author shelf.)



The Cuban author (b. 1950) has written a half-dozen novels, three of which have been translated into English. Wikipedia categorizes the genre of this book as ‘dirty realism’ but I don’t know how much that phrase is actually used.

Top photo of Havana by u/journeyman369 on reddit.com
The author from cnn.com

[Ian · Rating 3 out of 5]

The GR blurb for this book includes a quote from an NYT review that suggests the author “reminds one of Jean Genet and Charles Bukowski”. I’ve not read anything by the former and only one book by Bukowski, but yeah, I can see the similarities with his work. I read this in English translation.

The novel is set mainly in Cuba during the 1990s, when the country’s economy collapsed following the fall of the Soviet Union. It seems to have a significant autobiographical element. The narrator, who is addressed as “Pedro Juan”, is a forty-something ex-journalist who threw in his job and who is now surviving, just, amongst those who are lowest on the economic ladder. During the course of the novel he works in various low status jobs, a garbage collector, a slaughterhouse worker, etc, and he lives in a single room in a crumbling building in Old Havana. Some of his neighbours live 12 or 15 to a room. There are between 40 and 60 inhabitants of the building and they share one bathroom. Worse, the building frequently goes without water for days, meaning the “bathroom” overflows with human waste, and stinks to high heaven. As might be expected, it is overrun with cockroaches and rats. Not that anywhere else is much better. City residents go to the country to look for food, returning with piglets, chickens etc which they carry onto buses and trains, with predictable results. The country’s much vaunted health system seems little better.

Pedro Juan fights continually against depression, and basically his life revolves around sex, rum, and weed, more or less in that order. There’s a lot of sex in this book. Cubans seem to be a lusty lot, if this author is to be believed. Maybe it’s a case of not having much else in life?

This is a plotless novel consisting of numerous incidents in the narrator’s life strung together, along with other chapters featuring some of his neighbours. Many of these become the victims of fraud or violent crime. The country’s poverty has created a sort of Darwinian society red in tooth and claw, where people survive by preying on those weaker than themselves. There are some scenes describing brutal violence.

“I’m not interested in the decorative, or the beautiful, or the sweet, or the delicious. That’s why I always had my doubts about a sculptor I was married to for a while. There was too much peace in her sculptures for them to be any good. Art only matters if it’s irreverent, tormented, full of nightmares and desperation. Only an angry, obscene, violent, offensive art can show us the other side of the world, the side we never see or try not to see to avoid troubling our consciences.”

I thought there was some really top class writing in this book. That “other side of the world” is brought to us via superb descriptive writing. This isn’t a short book though – 392 pages in a small print size – and the constant repetition of sex, drinking, exploitation and violence gradually wore me down.

Incidentally it was interesting to see how “non-PC” this novel was. It’s said to be banned in Cuba, but for different reasons I doubt that in the 2020s it would be published in the US.

Not exactly for me, but three stars for the quality of writing, and for giving me a glimpse of that world I normally never see.

[Glenn Russell]

"Art only matters if it's irreverent, tormented, full of nightmares and desperation. Only an angry, obscene, violent, offensive art can show us the other side of the world, the side we never see or try not to see so as to avoid troubling our consciences."

Tell it like it is, Pedro Juan Gutiérrez!

Anclado en tierra de nadie (Marooned in No-Man's-Land) is the first novel in the author's Dirty Havana Trilogy. Pedro Juan doesn't hold back in letting readers know just how desperate, raw and gritty the day-to-day grind following the collapse of the Soviet Union, a time (the Special Period, 1991-1995) when nearly everyone in Cuba lived on the edge of starvation.

GRIMY, GRUNGY AND DOWNRIGHT FILTHY
The tale's narrator shares the author's name and age (forty-four-years-old in 1994). And how down and dirty is life in the city of Havana during that time? A trio of snips sets the foul, soiled stage when Pedro Juan called a rooftop apartment home:

“I went back to my room on the roof with its common bathroom, the most disgusting bathroom in the world, shared by fifty neighbors.”

“On the roof he kept a chicken coop with two pigs. They were obsessed with those animals, he and his wife. They spent hours sitting by the cage, staring at them, mesmerized, feeding them vegetable peelings.”

“The smell of the chicken and pig shit started to attract more cockroaches. There had always been cockroaches, but now there were more. And rats: huge animals that came up from the basement of the building, almost eighty feet below.”

NEW TIMES, NEW MAN
“Now I was training myself to take nothing seriously. A man's allowed to make lots of small mistakes, and there's nothing wrong with that. But if the mistakes are big ones and they weigh him down, his only solution is to stop taking them seriously.”

And what did Pedro Juan do now that he stopped taking himself seriously? He listened to music since, as he tells us, he didn't have to think when he listened to music. He also drank rum and smoked marijuana whenever given the chance. Above all, Pedro Juan had sex, lots and lots and lots of sex. “I fucked a lot: sex helped me escape from myself.” This is undoubtedly the prime reason why the Cuban author brings to mind Charles Bukowski and Henry Miller. Oh, yes, Pedro Juan delights in sharing sensual and sometimes romantic encounters with the beautiful ladies. “Sex isn't for the squeamish.”

JOYLESS JOURNALIST
“I was earning an unhealthy and cowardly living as a journalism, always making concessions, everything censored, and it was killing me because each day I felt more like I was prostituting myself, collecting daily ration of kicks in the ass.” PJG goes on to say, “For more than twenty years as a journalist, I was never allowed to write with a modicum of respect for my readers, or even the slightest regard for their intelligence. No, I always had to write as if stupid people were reading me, people who needed to be force-fed ideas. And I was rejecting all that.” But there came a time when enough was enough. “And I was kicked out of journalism because each day I was more reckless, and reckless types weren't wanted.”

SHIT JOBS, SHIT RAFTS
Now that he no longer earned a living as a journalist, where does that leave our main man? And the belly flopped Cuban economy in the early 90s didn't help (understatement). Pedro Juan gives us a glimpse: “I spent months hauling bags of cement and buckets of mortar. By the end of the day I was a wreck.”

But what's the alternative for thousands of poor Cubans looking for a better life? One answer: leave Cuba and head for Miami, even if that means a homemade raft. Thus we have the 1994 Cuban rafter exodus where more than 50,000 Cuban men, women and children set out in makeshift rafts. Result: 35,000 Cubans made it to the United States and more than 15,000 were lost at sea. Would you take your chances in a tiny raft on a 3-4 day voyage in shark-infested waters where you might have to deal with a ferocious storm?



ZEN AND THE ART OF NOT DRIVING YOURSELF CRAZY
Marooned in No-Man's-Land, a picaresque novel consisting of twenty-two stories makes for one compelling, absorbing, gusty, entertaining read. We follow Pedro Juan through his Havana odyssey where, for example, he gets stuck in an old elevator that leaves him claustrophobic. “The claustrophobia was so awful that sometimes at night I would wake with a start and jump out of bed. I felt trapped by the night, by the room, by my own self, on the bed.” PJG couldn't breathe and the only relief was going out on the roof so he could take in the salt air. Many more episodes await a reader but I'll conclude with one of my favorite parts: a daub of Zen and also references to several authors:

“My quest for balance was always unballancing itself. All I asked was for inner peace. I thought I would read a little from Zen: A Way of Life. But it was not good. I read it, and nothing stuck. I found one of Pedrojoan's (PJG's son) notebooks lying around. He had been reading lots of books all at once. The notebook was full of quotes, copies from Hermann Hesse, García Márquez, Grace Paley, Saint-Exupéry, Charles Bukowski, and Thor Heyerdahl. A good mix. That combination, plus rock, will keep a fifteen-year-old boy in a state of constant torment, and he'll never be bored. Which is good, I say. The important thing is not to be bored.”



"All of us were creeping out of our cages and beginning to struggle in the jungle. That's what it was. We were stiff coming out of our cages, sluggish and fearful. We had no idea what it was like to fight for our lives. But we had to try."

Nothing to Do (Dirty Havana Trilogy, Vol 2) picks up where the first volume left off. Very much like the author, narrator Pedro Juan turns forty-five and is still fighting for survival in economically shattered Cuba.

Nothing to Do features eighteen grisly but exuberant episodes where Pedro Juan does things like witness a brutal stabbing while standing in line for his weekly government allotment of rum, bet money on a teenager risking death by performing stunts on his bicycle as he weaves in and out of high speed traffic and work a disgusting job in a slaughterhouse (but not for long!), all the while drinking rum, smoking marijuana and having sex at every possible opportunity.

A trio of scenes from Nothing to Do are screaming out to me - I can almost see the Cuban author raising his glass of rum in tribute as I create a highlight for each -

VIOLENCE AND REVENGE
Working in a hospital, Pedro Juan has a fling with one of the nurses by the name of Rosaura. The nurse proves a fiery one. She catches a doctor drinking from her glass of ice water and calls him a pig. The doctor, thinking he's being funny, spits some water in Rosaura's face. Rosaura flies into a rage and slaps the doctor. Still thinking this whole thing a big game, the doctor, a karate champ, grabs Rosaura in a headlock. The two struggle and Rosaura falls squarely on his ass and fractures her spinal cord. Tragic consequence: Rosaura will spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair. Her two brothers sneak into the hospital and go after the doctor with butcher knifes. The doctor escapes unharmed but the two brothers are sent to jail. Rosaura's mother pleads with Pedro Juan to bring her some belonging from the doctor so she place a curse on him.

STIFLING FREEDOM
We're told about two transvestites living in the same building with Pedro Juan, sweet guys, always friendly, always happy. One of the transvestites dreams of becoming a famous singer and cultivating a Marilyn Monroe-like persona called Samantha. Anywhere else, so Pedro Juan tells us, the guy would be a star but in Havana he's a poor pathetic slob who has to support himself by cutting people's hair in his own apartment. The transvestites performed an act at a small theater but when the morality police got wind of their show, they shut down the theater. So much for freedom.

Thinking about the fate of these two guys has a negative effect on Pedro Juan himself. When he has some free time, he sets about writing. Only there's a problem: He has trouble making sense to himself and realizes he can't write. He tells us, “All I do is repeat one sentence: I love scars not wounds. Why do I keep repeating that like a paranoid freak? I love scars, not wounds.”

DOWNRIGHT DRUDGERY
In case anybody thinks Pedro Juan does nothing but sit around all day drinking rum and having luscious sex, one chapter sets the record straight. Oh, yes, our Cuban author tells us there was that year where he signed a contract with a company drilling for oil. He was forced to work twenty-five days a month in a town on the outskirts of Havana, work ten hours a day lugging pipes, iron, mud bricks and drills, backbreaking work where he walked around covered with grease and mud and stinking of sulfur. At night he'd retreat to a trailer park where he'd flop down like a beaten dog. Why do such a thing? In his own words: “When it comes down to it, I prefer suffering to squalor.” A woman, one of the locals, tried to seduce him but no dice – he was simply too exhausted to have anything to do with her. After the year was up, Pedro Juan knew he became a little rougher and tougher although his tanned skin now has wrinkles.

Pedro Juan returns to Havana squalor where, among other incidents, he's beaten up so badly he's taken to the hospital. To get the full blood and guts of this and many other misadventures, you'll have to read for yourself.




Essence of Me, Volume 3, the concluding novel forming Pedro Juan Gutiérrez's Dirty Havana Trilogy picks up where Vol 2 leaves off - Pablo Juan is still living in Havana squalor, only here, to add even more insult to disgusting injury, the opening chapter finds the author in jail. So much grime and grit. Rather than offering a synopsis or overarching observations, I'll let the author speak for himself. Here are six snapshots:

"I had a bad time at first. I got claustrophobic and I went berserk. When I realized I was locked up, rage built up inside of me, and I started to shout and foam at the mouth. I hit two guards who were trying to restrain me, and they beat me right there until I passed out. When I woke up, it was worse: I was in a cage, a small box with bars on all six sides, in which it was impossible to stand up or stretch out full length. You always had to be curled in a ball. The cages were on the roof of the building. And I was left there for days, out in the open, in the sun. How many days went by, I don't know. They brought me out limp, half-dead. I'm making a short story of it, because I don't want to remember the details."

Eventually Pedro Juan is sent away. He reflects, "I didn't have anything to do. What's more, I had no idea what to do the next day, next month, next year, or next century. Maybe not knowing is the best way to keep from worrying or sinking into despair. You don't know how you'll survive, but it doesn't matter. you live like a kite blowing in the wind, and you feel all right. But then sometimes there isn't even any wind."

"I had to make a few pesos. After a year as a garbageman, I left the job. It was too much work. Night work too. The money was good, but it wasn't worth it. I could make just as much or more in a day, selling any old thing. Anyway, the stink of rotting garbage was driving women away. They'd run from me in disgust."

"I woke up with a hangover from the rum I had drunk the night before. It had to be nine or ten o'clock already. Looking out the little window, I saw a tourist snapping photos of crumbling buildings on the Malecon. Her husband was videotaping the same scene. Tourists love the sight of decay. From a distance, it makes a wonderful picture."

"When you're single in the jungle, you've got to be constantly on the prowl, every single day. a man doesn't need much: a little money, food, some rum, a few cigars, a woman. Being without a woman makes me neurotic, but having one of them, awkward and stupid, always by my side, gets on my nerves."

"I had a pigeon trap on the roof. Two boxes, really, with a decoy pigeon to lure unsuspecting birds. On the nearby roofs, there were lots of messenger pigeon houses....Each day I'd catch one or two pigeons and sell them for twenty pesos to a guy...For all I care, he could have been frying them and selling them as chicken. I was just trying to make a living."

[Vladimir · Rating 4 out of 5]

Pedro Juan Gutierrez's Dirty Havana Trilogy is a fascinating book. The Havana he talks about is not the one described in travel brochures; it's a bleak world, a blend of Bukowski, Miller, and Kafka. In many ways, this reminds me of non-fiction works by Reinaldo Arenas, only Gutierrez has one big advantage over Arenas: his prose may show the dark side of Cuba, but he is devoid of any obvious ideological position. Dirty Havana Trilogy is not a political pamphlet, he is not an opposition to the regime, he is not anti-communist (or he is so at least to the extent he is anti-capitalist, or anti- anything for that matter). He doesn't seem to have a well articulated political position and bounces from one to another throughout the book - in a similar fashion, the size of his penis oscillates as well. The very genius of the book is in this bouncing around, from one woman to another, from one drink to another, from being a journalist to selling drugs, etc. The book is extremely readable, but it gets repetitive after a while, since all the new things that happen have happened before. Murders stop being intriguing, sex stops being shocking and your reading experience may turn into his life: more of the same. For this reason, I recommend you dose the chapters carefully. Enjoy.

[Lee Prescott · Rating 4 out of 5]

Well, after reading this I have a vastly different impression of Camilla Cabello! If you like reading about (in this particular case, literal) bottom feeders along the lines of Bukowski's Chinaski in Post Office and Factotum or Irvine Welsh's Maribou Stork Nightmares or Trainspotting then I'd recommend this. It's raw, debased and it doesn't really go anywhere as a novel or with its characterisation, but as an insight into low-life Cuban society in the midst of the US embargo and what that does to folks at the bottom of the ladder, their attitudes, prejudices and insecurities its great. I probably wont read any more Gutierrez in my life but am glad I stumbled across this one.

[Jodi Lu · Rating 5 out of 5]

this book SHOCKED me with g's ability to craft such steaming hot--often funny--raunchiness into such truly gorgeous sophisticated tales. it's one of those novels that each chapter stands on it's own and each closes on a really poignant note. but it's DIRTY. just plain filthy. and hairy and stinky and raw. i mean, you'll blush on the train and look over at people thinking they must be able to sense it--to smell it on you even. but it's really really great nonetheless. i tried another of his books but it was a huge disappointment after this. it seems so free because of the content but it has astoundingly masterful discretion in style.

[Steven Godin · Rating 3 out of 5]

Yep, I can concur. This guy is very much like a Cuban Hank Chinaski. Swap the cheap gut-rot wine and beer for rum, and the skanky L.A. chicks for some Havana booty, and it's like Bukowski is having a vacation, holed up in some run down hotel on the wrong side of town, sweltering in the heat and pissed off because of the busted fan, sucking on a big fat cigar, writing of Chinaski's Cuban sexual escapades.

Pedro Juan Gutiérrez' alter ego is way more filthy though. The dirty in the title is there for a reason: it's dirty. Within the first 10 pages or so I felt like going to wash my hands after some back door action that, as we would learn later on, sees Pedro Juan prefer the smell of shit to nice women's perfume. He actually says that. He can't stand the scent of deodorant either, much preferring the odour of his own stale sweat.

First 150 or so and I was entertained, but, like a few other reviewers point out, it doesn't half become repetitive. Sex followed by rum, rum followed by sex, sometimes rum with sex - don't ask where it ends up, then maybe watching others having sex or jerking off on balconies or rooftops. Mixed in is a host of dead end jobs here and there so Pedro Juan has just enough cash to eke a living, including being a knock-off lobster salesman and sewage pipe fixer - he felt right at home there. But I never felt Havana itself played a big enough role in the narrative. This is Cuba of the 90s, and its big issues don't get explored fully in the way I hoped they would be. Disappointed by that, seeing as it's close to 400 pages. Because of this, Dirty Havana Trilogy isn't so much the important book that it thinks it is.

Written in the style of vignettes, you could probably read just 1 in 5 of them and not really miss anything. The writing though is pretty good overall, and I liked the fact it was darkly humorous, but the most I got out of it was a whole host of unpleasant smells.

I now need a spa weekend to get over it!

[philosophie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Σεξ, ρούμι, βία, φτώχεια και έλλειψη υψηλών ιδανικών και στόχων, δοσμένα με την ωμότητα του Bukowski και την τολμηρή γραφή του Hemingway.

Το καλύτερο είναι η πραγματικότητα. Ωμή. Την παίρνεις όπως τη βλέπεις στο δρόμο. Τη βουτάς με τα δυο σου χέρια, κι αν έχεις δύναμη, τη σηκώνεις και την αφήνεις να πέσει πάνω στη λευκή σελίδα. Κι αυτό ήταν. Είναι εύκολο. Χωρίς φτιασίδια. Μερικές φορές είναι τόσο σκληρή η πραγματικότητα που ο κόσμος δεν σε πιστεύει. Διαβάζουν την ιστορία και σου λένε: "Όχι, όχι, Πέδρο Χουάν, εδώ υπάρχουν πράγματα που δεν στέκουν. Η φαντασία σου οργιάζει." Κι όμως, τίποτα δεν είναι αποκύημα της φαντασίας μου. Απλώς είχα αρκετή δύναμη να πιάσω ολόκληρη την πραγματικότητα και να την αφήσω να πέσει μονομιάς πάνω στη λευκή σελίδα.

Νατουραλιστικά, εν μέρει αυτοβιογραφικά, και αμιγώς βάναυσα στιγμιότυπα της πραγματικότητας της δεκαετίας του '90, της δυσκολότερης περιόδου της Κούβας. Ο Gutiérrez παρουσιάζει με άμεσο και ειλικρινή λόγο - και χωρίς να αποφεύγει τον ναρκισσισμό και τον ωχαδερφισμό - εικόνες φριχτές, εφιαλτικές, εσχατολογικές σχεδόν, χωρίς τάση ωραιοποίησης, χωρίς διάθεση ελάφρυνσης της ατμόσφαιρας. Παράλληλα, το κλίμα του ερωτισμού είναι διάχυτο σε όλα τα κεφάλαια - η δομή των οποίων θυμίζει διηγήματα -μπλέκεται με την επιθετικότητα και εντείνει τη σκληρότητα των σκηνών που παραθέτονται. Οι χαρακτήρες του βιβλίου κάθε άλλο παρά ευχάριστοι είναι, τραχείς και ατομικιστές, χωρίς να χάνουν τις ελπίδες τους ωστόσο, όσο κι αν η ροή της ζωής τους καταβροχθίζει κάθε προοπτική για μια καλή ζωή.

Η τέχνη χρησιμεύει σε κάτι μόνο αν είναι ασεβής, βασανισμένη, γεμάτη εφιάλτες και απελπισία. Μόνο μια τέχνη εξαγριωμένη, άσεμνη, βίαιη, άξεστη μπορεί να μας δείξει την άλλη όψη του κόσμου, αυτή που δεν βλέπουμε ποτέ ή που ποτέ δε θέλουμε να δούμε, για να αποφύγουμε τις ενοχλήσεις στη συνείδησή μας.

[SadieReadsAgain · Rating 2 out of 5]

I'm not sure if I really enjoyed this, to be honest. Its three stories, but I can't really see any reason for them being separated into a trilogy rather than a bunch of short stories. There is no storyline in any of the three parts, every chapter is just a different account of supposed daily life of those struck by the crippling poverty & awful quality of life in 90's Havana. That element itself is what I enjoyed about the book, as it was a culture & place I knew nothing of before reading this book. What killed the book for me was the horrific use of macho & sexual bravado, which to me just came across as desperate & boring. According to this book every woman in Havana is a whore, people fuck on every street corner, its acceptable for a man to jerk off in the street, no one seems to get STDs, & women are struck dumb by the beauty of a hard cock. It just sounds like this guy has never had sex in his life, & the sexual overkill was such a turn off. Its a shame, as the writing would have been so much more effective had he chosen the sexual episodes more carefully & used them more sparingly.

[Getzemaní · Rating 5 out of 5]

Califico desde la nostalgia (era uno de los libros favoritos de mi amigo muerto) y desde la risa, algo de excitación. Nada mejor que leer a Pedro Juan en vacaciones, con mucho calor y una cerveza en la mano.

[Nostromo · Rating 5 out of 5]

Не сте чели такава книга. Сериозно, не сте. Чели сте Буковски и цялото поколение битници. Чели сте Оруел, Голдинг и Хъксли. Препрочитали сте Селинджър, Антъни Бърджес и Харпър Ли. Но не сте попадали в Хавана през 90-те, не сте обитавали стая 3 на 4 метра на покрив с още 50 души, не сте ползвали с тях обща тоалетна, която често е запушена и смърди, не сте си изкарвали прехраната, ровейки из боклуците за кенчета от бира, които да продадете на сладоледаджията, който ще ги ползва за кофички. А вечер - вечер не сте се разхождали по крайбрежният булевард "Малекон", не сте дишали йодните изпарения в напоения със селитра въздух, не сте виждали омайващият залез над залива и не сте се прибирали с курва, за да приглушите "непосилната лекота на битието" с изтощителен, мръсен, потен, всеотдаен секс до зори. И да, не сте пили кубински ром. Евтин, долнокачествен ром. Много ром. Или поне толкова за колкото песос имате в джоба си.

Гутиерес е нищо по-малко от Буковски. Първоначалното усещане е, че старият Бук е решил да си поживее на тропиците, но е станал малко по-обстоятелствен, по-описателен, по-личен, по-самовглъбен, по-откровен, по-мизерен и по-мръсен. И все пак това е почти същата история, но е много по-безнадеждна, а единственото спасение от глада и комунистите е в удоволствието от погълнатия ром и задоволяването на нагона.

Четенето не отнема време. Напротив - предоставя месеци, които се изживяват за минути, колкото и в тях да не се случва почти нищо. Но това, че сте там, променя уравнението, защото всичко започва да ви засяга лично. Четенето на "Мръсна хаванска трилогия" �� форма на мазохизъм, защото боли и все пак изпитваш удоволствие - от почти болезнения реализъм и от това да разсъждаваш на глас с почти изпразнена от съдържание глава.

Има една история за вариететен "артист", чийто номер преди Революцията бил да си показва гигантския пенис всяка вечер в едно заведение. На стари години той е развалина в инвалидна количка.

" - Какво се е случило?
- Висока захар. И двата крака гангренясаха. И един по един ги ампутираха. Дори топките. Сега наистина съм пич без топки. Ха-ха. А преди бях пичът с топките. Суперменът от "Шанхай"! Сега съм преебан, но никой не може да ми отнеме спомените.
Смееше се искрено. Без капка ирония. Разбирах се добре с този корав и стар негър, който умееше да се присмива с глас над самия себе си. Ето това искам - да се науча да се надсмивам на себе си. Винаги, дори да ми отрежат топките."

http://thingnothing.blogspot.com/2014...

[Eirini Proikaki · Rating 4 out of 5]

Τελείωσα και αυτό το βιβλίο και πλέον δηλώνω φαν του Γκουτιέρεζ.Πολύ μ'αρέσει αυτός ο τύπος.Μου αρέσει ο κυνισμός του,μου αρέσει η σκληρή ρεαλιστική βρομικη γλώσσα που χρησιμοποιεί και μου αρέσει και ο έντονος ερωτισμός του.
Το βιβλίο αποτελείται απο πολλά μικρά διηγήματα.Ιστορίες απο την Κούβα της περιόδου της χειρότερης οικονομικης κρίσης του '90,ιστορίες φτώχειας,εξαθλίωσης,πείνας,βρωμιάς,δυστυχίας,απίστευτης παρακμής,ιστορίες φριχτές(ο τύπος που πούλαγε ανθρώπινα συκώτια ως χοιρινα θα μου μείνει αξεχαστος ), ιστορίες επιβίωσης ανθρώπων που δεν το βάζουν κάτω,που συνεχίζουν να παλεύουν με όποιον τρόπο μπορούν.Βασικός ήρωας ο Πέδρο Χουάν,ένας σαρανταπεντάρης τύπος που ζεί σε μια ταράτσα πάνω απο την παραλιακή λεωφόρο Μαλεκόν και προσπαθεί να επιβιώσει κάνοντας ένα σωρό δουλειές και βρωμοδουλειές,περνάει περιόδους μεγάλης πείνας και προσπαθεί να διασκεδάσει τη φτώχεια του πίνοντας ρούμι και κάνοντας σεξ κατά προτίμηση με όμορφες μουλάτες ή στην ανάγκη με ό,τι κινείται!

[Baba · Rating 2 out of 5]

This promised so much, but didn't really deliver for me. Where it did deliver is in the sense how people lived and loved in a post-Communist collapsing world; it also gave a good sense of the feel of Cuba. But as I always maintain, it's always about the story for me, and this one didn't grab me at all! Although as it was read in 2007 (the year I appeared to get really stingy with book grading), it might need a reread, because it does look so interesting on paper. 4 out of 12.

[Cititoare Calatoare · Rating 3 out of 5]

Desi e considerata un roman-cult, pentru mine a fost o lectura obositoare, mai degraba murdara decat profunda. Mult sex, mult cinism, dar prea putina poveste. Cartea are intensitate, dar si multa vulgaritate gratuita. Am simtit mai mult mizeria decat literatura.

gasiti recenzia completa pe pagina mea de instagram @reading_on_my_way

[Leonidas Moumouris · Rating 4 out of 5]

Η βόλτα στην Κούβα του Gutierrez δεν είναι πολύ ευχάριστη. Ας ξεκινήσουμε απ'αυτό. Εδώ την Κούβα τη γνωρίζεις μέσα από τους ανθρώπους της. Και οι άνθρωποι που σου πασάρει ο συγγραφέας είναι εξαθλιωμένοι. Όλοι. Ακόμα και όσοι έχουν λεφτά είναι ηθικά εξαθλιωμένοι.
Η φτώχεια πιέζει για επιβίωση. Η ανάγκη για επιβίωση δεν αφήνει περιθώρια για ανθρωπιά.
Όλα έχουν να κάνουν με αναζήτηση πέσος για να βγάλουμε τη μέρα.
Μέχρι το τέλος.
Μέσα σε αυτή τη συνθήκη ο Gutierrez χωράει άφθονο σεξ. Παντού. Συνέχεια. Αλλά όχι αισθητικά κοινα αποδεκτό. Βρώμικο. Κυριολεκτικά.
Δυσωδία από αποχετεύσεις, ιδρώτα, σκατα, όλες οι σελίδες λερωμένες.
Αν αντέχεις πορευεσαι. Και σε κάποια σημεία θα γελάσεις. Ακόμα αναρωτιέμαι για την τόση διάθεση για σεξ. Οι άνθρωποι περιγράφονται πολλές φορές σαν ζώα που απλά υπάρχουν επιβιώνουν και πηδιουνται.
Σε κάθε περίπτωση καταφέρνει να σε βυθίζει μαζί του σε ο,τι αυτός περιγράφει ως καθημερινότητα στην Κούβα. Παρέα με ένα κακής ποιότητας, μπουκάλι ρούμι.

[Jules · Rating 2 out of 5]

I discovered this on my husband’s bookshelf while dusting it recently, and was curious about it, so thought I’d give it a go. I’ve kept picking this up over the last few weeks, but having read 205 pages, I’ve decided to give up on it, and accept it’s not for me. I usually like quite gritty or shocking books, but I just couldn’t connect with this.

Dirty Havana Trilogy will put you off ever visiting Havana. I think it’s completely destroyed my positive experience of the film Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights. This is quite a slow moving dirty, dark, gritty, harrowing and shocking book. Covering violence, squalor, lots of sex, masturbating, drugs, sexuality and suicide. If reference to the chopping off of a penis, graphic suicide scenes and the raping of dead bodies doesn’t appeal to you, I’d strongly recommend avoiding this book.

I’m sure this will appeal to many readers, but this just made me feel sick, hungover and in need of a shower every time I read some of it. The funny thing is when I mentioned it to my husband and asked him what he thought of it, he told me he gave up reading it after 25 pages. In hindsight, I probably should have asked him about it before I started reading it.

[Δημήτρης · Rating 4 out of 5]

Βρόμικη σάρκα: 4/5

Ο έρωτας νοστάλγησε την Κούβα: 3.5/5

Η βρόμικη τριλογία της Αβάνας: 5/5

[Chiara · Rating 1 out of 5]

Senza un cazzo da dire
Non che mi abbia mai dato fastidio il turpiloquio o il linguaggio volgare, ma credo ferventemente che questo debba essere inserito in un contesto sensato. Per fare un esempio, Welsh mi piace. Invece, ciò che non mi piace, è quando qualche frase sboccata viene utilizzata principalmente perché non c'è altro da dire.
Qualche frase ad effetto, un paio di riflessioni sul senso della vita e sul ruolo degli esseri umani nel mondo, condite da qualche "cazzo" e "scopare", non possono bastare a colmare un grande vuoto di trama (che non ho capito quale fosse, per inciso). È vero, l'autore permette di affacciarsi ad uno scorcio della miseria più nera che imperversa a l'Avana, ma a parte questo non saprei che altro abbia letto, oltre ad aver trovato sgradevole il voler essere grezzo quasi forzatamente.

Leggo che Pedro Juan Gutierrez venga considerato una versione latino-americana di Bukowski, che non ho mai letto; forse, semplicemente, non fa per me. Ho letto questo primo tassello della trilogia sporca con Elisa (grazie della compagnia!) pensando che avremmo poi potuto proseguire con la lettura, ma abbiamo deciso di fermarci qui, evitando di infierire. Semplicemente, non c'è stato feeling.

[Marisol · Rating 3 out of 5]

Cuando inicie la lectura de este compilado de relatos en mi casa hubo un fallo de luz, que duró varios días y en cierta medida esto hizo que me sintiera un poco cerca de los relatos.

Todos ocurren en Cuba, principalmente en La Habana y pueblos de sus alrededores, y aunque desfilan un sin fin de personajes variopintos, extravagantes, exultantes, tristones, etc, los temas y las condiciones son similares, hablamos de escasez en su máxima expresión, siempre hay hambre, hacinamiento, suciedad, falta de servicios, desempleo. Incertidumbre.

También hay alcohol, cigarrillos, sexo, banquetes de vez en cuando, música.

Aunque se respira todo lo malo, es verdad que ese anhelo por vivir y por gozar siempre está presente, aún cuando las condiciones son infrahumanas, existe una lucha ferviente de sacar buenos momentos, como estarse ahogando y salir de vez en cuando a la superficie para tomar aire y continuar, soportar, esperar, desear.

Una escritura sin límites, sin mesura, llena de datos escatológicos que están acorde con el exceso en que se vive, como al borde de la muerte entremezclada con locura, con los sentidos a flor de piel, una lucha diaria por sobrevivir, sin preguntarse para que, más allá de la esperanza de un nuevo día, que pueda traer la promesa de algún cambio.

El escritor logra remover sentimientos de compasión y de admiración por igual, por ese sentido de supervivencia activado en los cubanos.


El protagonista sigue viviendo aún cuando enuncia que no volverá a amar, ni ha tener pareja, lo único que lo mueve es su capacidad de anhelar instantes de placer, un trago de licor, una mujer, una buena música.

“Todos nos quedamos más solos poco a poco. En el camino quedan las mujeres que amé. Los sitios donde fui feliz. Los hijos que se alejan. Los amigos. Todo lo que se tiene y se pierde.”


En algún momento reflexiona sobre el oficio de escritor,llegando a una dura pero valiosa confesión:

“Me hicieron suponer que existen métodos y técnicas. No existe nada. Cada escritor se construye a sí mismo como puede. Él solo. Sin atender a nadie. Y eso es desgarrador, pero no hay otro modo.”

Lo mejor es la realidad. Al duro. La tomas tal como está en la calle. La agarras con las dos manos y, si tienes fuerza, la levantas y la dejas caer sobre la página en blanco. Y ya”

Con este libro reí, me horroricé, me entristecí pero sobre todo sude, no saben cómo sude, sin luz y con 40 grados C.

[Βάιος Παπαδόπουλος · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ένα πανέμορφα ώμο ταξίδι στις γειτονιές της Αβάνας και στα περίχωρά της γεμάτο ρούμι, πούρα και σεξ!

[Jim · Rating 4 out of 5]

It appears that officially puritanical Cuba has its own Henry Miller and Charles Bukowsky. I am thinking about Pedro Juan Gutiérrez, author of Dirty Havana Trilogy. The word trilogy is used a bit loosely because it does not appear the three parts of the novel were ever published separately, at least in English. The first two parts deal primarily with a first person narrator who goes by the same name as the author; the last part is more a series of disconnected short stories with Pedro Juan and other characters as the main focus.

The story takes place around 1994, several years after Russia stopped the sugar subsidy that was the main source of income for Castro's Cuba. There was a great deal of hunger and practically no way to make money. Those few who had money, particularly in the form of dollars, were well off. It seems that the only things not in short supply were tobacco, rum, and sex.

[Hazel Lee · Rating 3 out of 5]

I'm . . . not quite sure how I feel about this book. From what I can gather it's a semi-fictional autobiography of the author himself, who used to be a journalist in Cuba. The Havana in this book is not the pretty, sunny, exotic Havana I remember from the documentary _Havana Libre_. It's filthy, sweaty, cut-throat, and depressing. People fucking in alleys filled with garbage and cockroaches. Sleeping on the floor next to the cockroaches. Drinking cheap rum and eating mangoes someone else vomited on. Telling each other to crawl up their mother's cunt.

I will say that the writing is brilliant - you can feel your skin crawling with the realism of the gritty descriptions. Every time I put the book down I wanted to go take a hot shower and scrub myself down to the bone. And despite the disgust the book inspired, I did feel compelled to read it to the end. There isn't much of a plot and several times I couldn't remember whether certain characters were new or had appeared in a previous chapter, but overall I'd say it's an interesting read. (I'm not sure if I'll want to read it again, though. Definitely not the kind of book you want to curl up with on a lazy afternoon.)

[Julio The Fox · Rating 4 out of 5]

This set of novels is a gift to me from a former lover. Think of Henry Miller's SEXUS trilogy (SEXUS, NEXUS, and PLEXUS) set in contemporary Havana, Cuba during the darkest days of the Castro dictatorship in the Nineties. Sex is clean, though clinical, and all else, from the streets to politics to the politics of the street is dirty. Morality or grub---you cannot have both at once. Just like Miller, Gutierrez is too tired from living to be political. Just like Miller, Gutierrez is an unnamed character and narrator of his own novels.
Interestingly, the novel could not be published in Cuba but the Castro regime did allow foreign editions to come out.

[J.M. Hushour · Rating 4 out of 5]

Take a healthy dose of "Trainspotting", remove the heroin, saute in refuse, add a pinch of gratuitous, grimy sex, and set down in Cuba, and--voila!--you have this novel.
If you offend easily, I'd stay very clear of this one. From the get-go, it is a series of unwavering, raunchy--no, filthy--vignettes that punch to the heart of everything obscene, foul, and desperate that you could ever dream up.
The narrator weaves in and out of the chapters, detailing the devastation and foulness of Havana in the mid-90s where people fight, steal, murder, and, well, fuck, to survive. There's nothing good here, which is what makes to so compelling. Between torrid and random sexual encounters, the narrator declines steadily into grim philosophizing, meaningless in the end, as much of his interactions with others. It's not that kind of book, though and here it shines much in the same way "Trainspotting" does: it's a chronicle of how shitty the world can be, while being quite funny at the same time.
Havana decays throughout, but it hangs on as the violence and sex get crazier and sicker, perhaps the city's only saving grace. There are a lot of sections dealing with the abandoned elderly and the scarred remnants of the communist armed forces. There's unintentional cannibalism, an elderly man once known as Superman who could, well, orgasm unaided on stage, "potato" rooms, and plenty of stabbings.
Again, not for the faint of heart.

[Stavrakas Arsenal · Rating 3 out of 5]

Δεν μπορώ να πω ότι έχω ενθουσιαστεί, αλλά ούτε και πως πέρασα το χρόνο μου άσκοπα με ένα αδιάφορο βιβλίο...
Αυτό που έχω να πω σίγουρα έπειτα από περίπου 15 μέρες περιπλάνησης στην Κούβα, είναι πως ο Γκουτιέρεζ είναι μία δεύτερη καλή εναλλακτική για όσους είναι λάτρεις του Μπουκόφσκι και επίσης για όσους δεν έχουν αρκετά λεφτά για να την επισκεφτούν...
Μου κάνει μεγάλη εντύπωση πως σε 500 σελίδες ο κύριος Γκουτιέρεζ δεν αναφέρει ούτε μισό θετικό στοιχείο ή έστω κάποια κατάκτηση-κέρδος που είχε ο κουβανικός λαός από την επανάσταση του...
Ελπίζω σε κάποιο βιβλίο του στο μέλλον να διαβάσω για όλα τα "καλά" που θα τους φέρει ο καπιταλισμός...

[Kaloyana · Rating 5 out of 5]

Това е една мръсна хаванска трилогия, която включва доста ужасно брутални истории. И е толкова мъдро и поучително четиво и толкова гадно и дори болезнено на моменти, че се чудиш как е възможно - да съществува и да се напише така. Струва си и то доста!


Сега се уча да не взимам нищо на сериозно. Човек може да допусне хиляди малки грешки. Това не е важно. Но ако грешките са големи и тежат на съвестта му, единственото, което му остава е да не се взема на сериозно. Само така би могло да се избегне страданието. Продължителното страдание може да е смъртоносно.

Музиката ме спасява от мисли.

Сега се учех да не ламтя за сто неща едновременно. Да живея почти без нищо. В противен случай щях да си съществувам все с тази моя трагична представа за живота. Ето защо вече понасях по-добре мизерията.

На жените не им харесва нещо да се отлага.

Човек трябва да ревнува само това, което си заслужава. Това, което е истински важно, а не да се хаби да ревнува всичко.

Когато желаеш силно нещо, вече си на прав път.

Дори на четирийсет все още не е късно човек да зареже привичките си, безплодното им отегчително бреме, и да започне да живее по някакъв друг начин.

Когато ме извадиха от асансьора, останах заклещен в себе си.

Най-важното е, човек да не се отегчава.

Никога не слушай прекалено много.

Всичко се решава с бутилка ром и разговор с някого - дали с жена, дали с Бог или с приятел...

Мен обаче никога не ме интересувало хорското мнение. Всеки път, щом съм се съобразявал с него, или съм се преебавал, или съм се обърквал и накрая винаги се е налагало да зарежа всичко и да започна отначало.

Човек не трябва никога да се стреми да действа правилно и благоразумно, нито да води праволинеен и предначертан живот. Животът е хазарт.

В големите градове хората са по-тревожни.

Невъзможно е да се отървеш от носталгията, защото е невъзможно да се отървеш от спомените. Невъзможно е да се отървеш от нещо, което си обичал.

Не е хубаво дълго да въздишаш по миналото.

Човек не може да се носи по течението цял живот. Или намираш къде да се хванеш или потъваш.

Такъв е животът - като махало. Идва и си отива.

В далечна перспектива винаги има очаквания, надежда, че занапред всичко ще бъде по-добро и Господ ще ни помага. Но това винаги е в дългосрочен план. Сега, в този момент - нищо.

Животът може да бъде и забавление и жалейка. Човек избира сам. Понеже скръбта има пагубно влияние върху живота ми, аз я пропъждам. Винаги съм такъв - пъдя тъгата и мъката и всичко подобно.

Понякога е така. Човек се отегчава и нищо не може да се направи.

Понякога, всъщност почти винаги, е хубаво да се оставиш на интуицията си и да на мислиш. Предразсъдъците прецакват много неща в живота.

Човек разбира, че е бил щастлив, когато всичко свърши.

Бог не ни дава шансове да спорим с него.

Най-добре е да не ти пука.

Хубаво е да знаеш, че някои неща не се променят.

Целият живот на човек минава ей така - в очакване на нещо по-добро.

Онези, които са лицемери в секса, обикновено са мошеници и когато са облечени.

Ето защо на моите четиридесет и пет години продължавам да съм сам. И всеки ден животът ми ставаше по-хубав и по-лесен. Първите изгаряния болят най-много, после излизат само мазоли. От четирийсет нагоре всичко е по-лесно. Или поне виждаш нещата по-ясно.

Етиката на бедняка е да обича богаташа, който пуска по някоя трохичка. Етиката на роба е да обича и да се възхищава на господаря. Толкова е просто. Беднякът или робът, все едно как ще го наречеш, не може да си позволи да следва високи морални правила, нито да изисква много от достойнството си, тъй като постоянно се страхува, че ще умре от глад.

Обичам белезите, а не раните.

Всичко важно, всички най-важни неща, са вечни.

В крайна сметка, ако нямаш вяра, където и да си, си просто в друга преизподня.

Невъзможно е да разбираш всичко, Животът не е толкова дълъг, за да го живееш и разбираш едновременно. Трябва да избереш.

Очакването разваля много неща. Но да се научиш да не се надяваш, си е цяло изкуство.

Не трябва да се работи прекалено много, защото животът е доста кратък.

Религията не трябва да се следва буквално, ако искаш да се радваш на живота.

Човек не трябва да мисли, че ще загуби. Лошите мисли носят лош късмет.

Бягат само победените.

Не бива да се сваля гардът. Затова ме нокаутираха онзи път. Защото свалих гарда.

[Diana · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ако сте гнусливи и чувствителни на масата, в леглото, в разговорите и в отношенията си, дори не докосвайте тази книга. Защото зад лъскавата завеса на пурите и рома, на чувствените и сговорчиви мулатки и омайните карибски нощи ще затънете дълбоко в телесни течности и смрад, мазилката и стените ще се ронят в леглото ви, ще газите лайна в коридора и плъхове – в стаята си, ще се чукате и ще ви чукат на всяка крачка, ще отслабвате по 18 кг месечно, ще искате да продадете и себе си за една вечеря или парче сапун, ще делите обща тоалетна с още 50 човека, ще се облекчавате в хартийка, ще я хвърляте от покрива върху отсрещния блок и ще гледате отгоре как уличните кучета закусват с още топлия мозък на съседа ви, направил сам крачката към по-добрия свят.

Очакват ви не хорър сцени, родени от нечий болен мозък. Очаква ви Куба през 1994/95 г. - задушавана от мизерия, лозунги, правила и цензура, нечистоплътна и неистово гладна, с остър дефицит на стоки и лична свобода. „Всичко е в криза – идеите, кесиите, настоящето. За бъдещето да не говорим.”

Красивите и възвишени думи не виреят там, където оцеляването е единствената мечта. Проститутките, крайбрежният Малекон и гладът нямат нужда от тях, а от циничния, похотлив, груб и болезнено искрен език на Гутиерес. И от него самия – обикновен, самотен, но не и примирен. На кръстопътя между полудяването и самоубийството избира да оцелее, като спре да се взима насериозно. Иска от живота съвсем малко, за да е щастлив: бутилка ром, приятел, много секс. Също и да се научи да се надсмива на себе си. Винаги, дори когато му отрежат топките.