What do you think?
Rate this book
A Last Supper of Queer Apostles: Selected Essays
A galvanizing look at life on the margins of society by a crowning figure of Latin America's queer counterculture who celebrated “melodrama, kitsch, extravagance, and vulgarity of all kinds” (Garth Greenwell) in playful, performative, linguistically inventive essays, now available in English for the first time
A Penguin Classic
“I speak from my difference,” wrote Pedro Lemebel, an openly queer writer and artist living through Chile’s AIDS epidemic and the collapse of the Pinochet dictatorship. In brilliantly innovative essays—known as crónicas —that combine memoir, reportage, fiction, history, and poetry, he brought visibility and dignity to sexual minorities, the poor, and the powerless. Touching on everything from Che Guevara to Elizabeth Taylor, from the aftermath of authoritarian rule to the daily lives of Chile’s locas —a slur for trans women and effeminate gay men that he boldly reclaims—his writing infuses political urgency with playfulness, realism with absurdism, and resistance with camp, and his AIDS crónicas immortalize a generation of Chileans doubly “disappeared” by casting each loca, as she falls sick, in the starring role of her own private tragedy. This volume brings together the best of his work, introducing readers of English to the subversive genius of a literary activist and queer icon whose acrobatic explorations of the Santiago demimonde reverberate around the world.
A Penguin Classic
“I speak from my difference,” wrote Pedro Lemebel, an openly queer writer and artist living through Chile’s AIDS epidemic and the collapse of the Pinochet dictatorship. In brilliantly innovative essays—known as crónicas —that combine memoir, reportage, fiction, history, and poetry, he brought visibility and dignity to sexual minorities, the poor, and the powerless. Touching on everything from Che Guevara to Elizabeth Taylor, from the aftermath of authoritarian rule to the daily lives of Chile’s locas —a slur for trans women and effeminate gay men that he boldly reclaims—his writing infuses political urgency with playfulness, realism with absurdism, and resistance with camp, and his AIDS crónicas immortalize a generation of Chileans doubly “disappeared” by casting each loca, as she falls sick, in the starring role of her own private tragedy. This volume brings together the best of his work, introducing readers of English to the subversive genius of a literary activist and queer icon whose acrobatic explorations of the Santiago demimonde reverberate around the world.
272 pages, Paperback
Published May 28, 2024
53 people are currently reading
3229 people want to read
About the author
Pedro Lemebel
23 books694 followersHijo de Pedro Mardones, panadero, y Violeta Lemebel, nació "literalmente en la orilla del Zanjón de la Aguada" y "vivió en medio del barro" hasta que, a mediados de los años sesenta, "su familia se mudó a un conjunto de viviendas sociales en avenida Departamental".
Estudió en un liceo industrial donde se enseñaba forja de metal y mueblería y, después, en la Universidad de Chile, donde se tituló de profesor de Artes Plásticas. Trabajó en dos liceos, de los cuales fue despedido en 1983 "presumiblemente por su apariencia, ya que no hacía mucho esfuerzo por disimular su homosexualidad".
En sus libros aborda fundamentalmente la marginalidad chilena con algunas referencias autobiográficas. Su estilo irreverente, barroco y kitsch lo ha hecho conocido en toda hispanoamérica. Gay declarado, explica el cambio de su nombre así: "El Lemebel es un gesto de alianza con lo femenino, inscribir un apellido materno, reconocer a mi madre huacha desde la ilegalidad homosexual y travesti".
Estudió en un liceo industrial donde se enseñaba forja de metal y mueblería y, después, en la Universidad de Chile, donde se tituló de profesor de Artes Plásticas. Trabajó en dos liceos, de los cuales fue despedido en 1983 "presumiblemente por su apariencia, ya que no hacía mucho esfuerzo por disimular su homosexualidad".
En sus libros aborda fundamentalmente la marginalidad chilena con algunas referencias autobiográficas. Su estilo irreverente, barroco y kitsch lo ha hecho conocido en toda hispanoamérica. Gay declarado, explica el cambio de su nombre así: "El Lemebel es un gesto de alianza con lo femenino, inscribir un apellido materno, reconocer a mi madre huacha desde la ilegalidad homosexual y travesti".
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 54 reviews
June 23, 2024
Pedro Lemebel is a huge discovery for me. This is by far one of the best books I’ve read this year. A favourite of Roberto Bolaño, who is quoted as saying:
“Lemebel doesn’t have to write poetry to be the best of my generation… When everyone who has treated him like dirt is lost in the cesspit… Pedro Lemebel will be a star.”
And after reading this collection of essays, or crónicas for which he is best known, I fully understand Bolaño’s admiration. They are quite simply brilliant. Poetic, beautiful, controversial, raw, visceral, transgressive, sometimes pornographic… I’m reminded of Genet and Bataille, but also Lispector, as mentioned by Idra Novey in this edition’s forward, for the sheer originality and brilliance of his prose.
What sets Lemebel apart however, and firmly on his own course, is that as well as being one of the most unapologetically queerest writers I’ve ever read, he is also deeply political. Here are some of the best accounts you’re ever likely to read of life for Chilean travesti, or locas, the gender-nonconforming ‘sexual minorities, poor and powerless’. Lemebel also writes about the political turmoil in Chile during the 70s, 80s and 90s – the 1973 coup d’état overthrowing the popular democratic socialist President Allende, the dark and bloody dictatorship of Pinochet, Chilean exiles in Europe and their return in the 90s once democracy was restored.
He also wrote much on the AIDS epidemic, brought over to Chile, as he puts it by the ‘white, blonde, American macho man’ - referring to the gym-pumped white gay male stereotype. (There is a brilliant piece on his visit to the Stonewall bar in NYC, and whiteness of the Pride festival.)
This is poetic, queer literature crossing boundaries that few writers have dared to. Beautiful, bold, challenging, calling out inequalities often within the LGTBQ+ community, and holding up a mirror to all who read him. Definitely a new queer icon and favourite writer for me.
“Lemebel doesn’t have to write poetry to be the best of my generation… When everyone who has treated him like dirt is lost in the cesspit… Pedro Lemebel will be a star.”
And after reading this collection of essays, or crónicas for which he is best known, I fully understand Bolaño’s admiration. They are quite simply brilliant. Poetic, beautiful, controversial, raw, visceral, transgressive, sometimes pornographic… I’m reminded of Genet and Bataille, but also Lispector, as mentioned by Idra Novey in this edition’s forward, for the sheer originality and brilliance of his prose.
What sets Lemebel apart however, and firmly on his own course, is that as well as being one of the most unapologetically queerest writers I’ve ever read, he is also deeply political. Here are some of the best accounts you’re ever likely to read of life for Chilean travesti, or locas, the gender-nonconforming ‘sexual minorities, poor and powerless’. Lemebel also writes about the political turmoil in Chile during the 70s, 80s and 90s – the 1973 coup d’état overthrowing the popular democratic socialist President Allende, the dark and bloody dictatorship of Pinochet, Chilean exiles in Europe and their return in the 90s once democracy was restored.
He also wrote much on the AIDS epidemic, brought over to Chile, as he puts it by the ‘white, blonde, American macho man’ - referring to the gym-pumped white gay male stereotype. (There is a brilliant piece on his visit to the Stonewall bar in NYC, and whiteness of the Pride festival.)
This is poetic, queer literature crossing boundaries that few writers have dared to. Beautiful, bold, challenging, calling out inequalities often within the LGTBQ+ community, and holding up a mirror to all who read him. Definitely a new queer icon and favourite writer for me.
April 25, 2025
Masterful writing. Gritty realism and whimsical absurdism. It made me want to know more about Chilean history. Super informative also about queer experiences outside of the US
March 25, 2025
Maybe the most radical thing about Pedro Lemebel's essays is that he embraces ugly, tawdry, violent imagery and he does it with ugly, tawdry, violent language, and the result is riveting and gutting and perfect. Lemebel is there to blow shit up, and to force you to see humanity in places you probably never look.
I came to Lemebel when I read that Roberto Bolano revered him and considered him Chile's best writer. I had been planning to read My Tender Matador, a novel which is the only other thing Lemebel wrote that I can see has been translated into English, but when this became available on Kindle and audio I decided to start with the essays. I am glad I did, and I am now really excited to read My Tender Matador.
The essays here have a propulsive energy. The writing is a mashup of prose and poetry, filled with tragedy but often laugh-out-loud funny, muscular and sometimes shocking. But nothing here is shocking in a showy way. Some people write with the intention of shocking, Lemebel tells shocking truths using language you would never have identified as perfect for the task, but which in fact is perfect for the task. The essays cover the US-backed assassination of the duly elected Salvador Allende and the US backed installation of the murderous Pinochet. Lemebel tells us about the violent repression, the Disappeared and their mothers and wives who never stopped searching for them/their remains, and he tells us about acts of resistance, subtle and not, direct and not. He also tells us about living among what we would now call transfeminine prostitutes (Lemebel uses the words "travesti' and "loca" which translate roughly to "tranny") in minute detail and tells us about the ravages of AIDS in Santiago's Gay community. There are no punches pulled in any of the stories. People are tortured and killed by the soldiers, thousands and thousands of them, their bodies slashed, eyes removed with kitchen implements. In the stories about the travesti mouths and anuses invaded for love, for commerce, and sometimes to humiliate and harm. There is a lot of consensual sex in the book, a lot of descriptions of assholes, puckered and gaping, full and empty, unused and abused. And Lemebel is in the middle of all of this. It is sort of a gonzo journalism fever dream, imagine if Hunter Thompson cared about anyone but himself and was a poor, revolutionary feminine-presenting Gay man in a country ruled by a despot. For me, the most impactful section was where he focused on AIDS. Rather than reporting on widespread horrors, Lemebel invited us in to meet these people killed by the disease, to meet their friends and lovers, and to see the impact on them, and I at least mourned with them.
I have never read anything like these essays and I want more. I am hooked. I read and listened to these, and they really lend themselves to audio. The narration by Idra Novey is excellent. I did appreciate being able to look at the prose on the page as well, but If I had to choose just one I think I would opt for the audio.
I came to Lemebel when I read that Roberto Bolano revered him and considered him Chile's best writer. I had been planning to read My Tender Matador, a novel which is the only other thing Lemebel wrote that I can see has been translated into English, but when this became available on Kindle and audio I decided to start with the essays. I am glad I did, and I am now really excited to read My Tender Matador.
The essays here have a propulsive energy. The writing is a mashup of prose and poetry, filled with tragedy but often laugh-out-loud funny, muscular and sometimes shocking. But nothing here is shocking in a showy way. Some people write with the intention of shocking, Lemebel tells shocking truths using language you would never have identified as perfect for the task, but which in fact is perfect for the task. The essays cover the US-backed assassination of the duly elected Salvador Allende and the US backed installation of the murderous Pinochet. Lemebel tells us about the violent repression, the Disappeared and their mothers and wives who never stopped searching for them/their remains, and he tells us about acts of resistance, subtle and not, direct and not. He also tells us about living among what we would now call transfeminine prostitutes (Lemebel uses the words "travesti' and "loca" which translate roughly to "tranny") in minute detail and tells us about the ravages of AIDS in Santiago's Gay community. There are no punches pulled in any of the stories. People are tortured and killed by the soldiers, thousands and thousands of them, their bodies slashed, eyes removed with kitchen implements. In the stories about the travesti mouths and anuses invaded for love, for commerce, and sometimes to humiliate and harm. There is a lot of consensual sex in the book, a lot of descriptions of assholes, puckered and gaping, full and empty, unused and abused. And Lemebel is in the middle of all of this. It is sort of a gonzo journalism fever dream, imagine if Hunter Thompson cared about anyone but himself and was a poor, revolutionary feminine-presenting Gay man in a country ruled by a despot. For me, the most impactful section was where he focused on AIDS. Rather than reporting on widespread horrors, Lemebel invited us in to meet these people killed by the disease, to meet their friends and lovers, and to see the impact on them, and I at least mourned with them.
I have never read anything like these essays and I want more. I am hooked. I read and listened to these, and they really lend themselves to audio. The narration by Idra Novey is excellent. I did appreciate being able to look at the prose on the page as well, but If I had to choose just one I think I would opt for the audio.
November 21, 2024
A Last Supper of Queer Apostles gathers together a collection of Pedro Lemebel's essays (crónicas). Lemebel (1952-2015) is/was a brilliant writer whose work focused on the marginal communities of Chile: gay men, the poor, sex workers, and transsexuals. His work is angry, inventive, playful, keenly observing. Reading his work is rather like watching someone juggling fire, with the same uneasy potential for beauty or disaster.
Lemebel's essays are packed with material that one needs to sit with—they demand a period of "sinking in" from readers. A last Supper of Queer Apostles is the first collection of his essays translated into English: they demanded a great deal of and were done justice by translator and editor Gwendolyn Harper.
For anyone who understands that the boundaries of their world go far beyond the borders of their country and that gender is not the binary many would insist it *must* be, A Last Supper of Queer Apostles offers a feast of ideas.
I received a free electronic review copy of this title from the publisher via NetGalley; the opinions are my own.
Lemebel's essays are packed with material that one needs to sit with—they demand a period of "sinking in" from readers. A last Supper of Queer Apostles is the first collection of his essays translated into English: they demanded a great deal of and were done justice by translator and editor Gwendolyn Harper.
For anyone who understands that the boundaries of their world go far beyond the borders of their country and that gender is not the binary many would insist it *must* be, A Last Supper of Queer Apostles offers a feast of ideas.
I received a free electronic review copy of this title from the publisher via NetGalley; the opinions are my own.
April 21, 2025
National Book Critics Circle Award for Gregg Barrios Book in Translation (2024)
I have been very lazy lately when it comes to posting reviews, but occasionally something comes along that is so good that I need to go beyond simply assigning a five star rating. That is the case with this brilliant collection of essays by the late Chilean writer Pedro Lemebel. I was so impressed that I will have difficulty reining in all the superlatives. First off, the writing here is stunning, the language exhilarating. Wit and wordplay are ever present, adding for some hilarious (darkly so) observations. That humor is a welcome counter to subject matter that is often difficult to read - sexual and shocking, grim and tragic, angry and highly political. These essays may not be for everyone, but for those who want to be wowed by extraordinary writing and Lemebel’s genius, I urge you to check this one out.
I have been very lazy lately when it comes to posting reviews, but occasionally something comes along that is so good that I need to go beyond simply assigning a five star rating. That is the case with this brilliant collection of essays by the late Chilean writer Pedro Lemebel. I was so impressed that I will have difficulty reining in all the superlatives. First off, the writing here is stunning, the language exhilarating. Wit and wordplay are ever present, adding for some hilarious (darkly so) observations. That humor is a welcome counter to subject matter that is often difficult to read - sexual and shocking, grim and tragic, angry and highly political. These essays may not be for everyone, but for those who want to be wowed by extraordinary writing and Lemebel’s genius, I urge you to check this one out.
May 31, 2024
oh to be fluent in spanish so i can read every single word pedro lemebel ever put to paper. these stories are incredibly intimate, full of rage, they're raunchy and just so unapologetically gay. pedro lemebel is an author you see only once and can never be replicated. lemebel's style of writing/storytelling would have a straight person clutching their pearls while queer folks are begging for more, more, MORE. i feel so lucky to have stumbled on this translation and to have experienced the work of someone who's name should be at the top of everyone's list of literary icons.
July 8, 2024
Truly one of the best books I've read in a long time. I love when a book has one of those images in it that will live rent free in your mind forever, and this one had at least half a dozen of them.
September 4, 2024
What could I possibly say to summarize how I feel about this book?? Lemebel was a genius!! So smart and beautiful <3
August 20, 2024
Soooooo happy I came across this and so happy this book exists and was translated. Lemebel is an absolute genius and the way he writes about really quite horrifying events be it the AIDS crisis, poverty in Santiago or life under Pinochet is unbelievable. The mixture of wit and metaphoric deftness he uses is so special and insightful.
There is a lot of pain in this book but also so much beauty, I constantly found myself rereading phrases to really absorb their composition. Really a once in a century kind of talent and I can only imagine how hard hitting it would be in the original Spanish.
Extremely highly recommended to anyone and everyone.
There is a lot of pain in this book but also so much beauty, I constantly found myself rereading phrases to really absorb their composition. Really a once in a century kind of talent and I can only imagine how hard hitting it would be in the original Spanish.
Extremely highly recommended to anyone and everyone.
November 3, 2024
this book defies definition and explanation so I won't try but I will recommend it to anyone and everyone.
the experience of reading this made me think a bit about translation, and the globalization of story-telling that is perhaps unintended by the author. In the introduction, Lemebel is described as untranslateable. He himself writes, "I could write almost telegraphically for the whole world and for the symmetrical ratification of all languages kowtowed to English. I'll never write in English; with any luck i say Go home."
the deliberate opening with this quote makes the reader of the English translation accutely--maybe uncomfortably--aware that these words were not written for us. I think Gwendolyn harper does an excellent job of translation, as well as introducing and acknowledging the inherent tension therein; even so, the English reader is left to grapple with the almost voyeuristic implications of Lemebel's insistence on making himself unpallateable and untranslatable to a global audience.
the experience of reading this made me think a bit about translation, and the globalization of story-telling that is perhaps unintended by the author. In the introduction, Lemebel is described as untranslateable. He himself writes, "I could write almost telegraphically for the whole world and for the symmetrical ratification of all languages kowtowed to English. I'll never write in English; with any luck i say Go home."
the deliberate opening with this quote makes the reader of the English translation accutely--maybe uncomfortably--aware that these words were not written for us. I think Gwendolyn harper does an excellent job of translation, as well as introducing and acknowledging the inherent tension therein; even so, the English reader is left to grapple with the almost voyeuristic implications of Lemebel's insistence on making himself unpallateable and untranslatable to a global audience.
June 8, 2024
En ce mois des fierté, il n'y a pas meilleur sensation que de découvrir un auteur dont l'œuvre illumine un pan de l'histoire LGBTQ+ très peu exploré. Avec precision, poésie et violence, Pedro Lemebel dresse le portrait politique et social du Chilie durant les année 80 et 90 mettant l'accent sur l'expérience des personnes LGBT durant cette époque tumultueuse. Un must read absolue pour tous ceux qui veulent de la littérature queer challenging.
A titre personnel, je trouve ça aberrant que le seul texte que j'ai trouver de lui en français soit son unique roman. Si votre anglais vous le permet, cette collection est une excellente selection d'un auteur qui merite tellement plus d'attention.
A titre personnel, je trouve ça aberrant que le seul texte que j'ai trouver de lui en français soit son unique roman. Si votre anglais vous le permet, cette collection est une excellente selection d'un auteur qui merite tellement plus d'attention.
July 29, 2024
A new favorite of mine. Rebellious in its use of language, radically queer, unapologetically grotesque and absurdist - I haven't read anything as audacious as Lemebel's writing in a long time. What a joy that his work is now accessible to the English-speaking world, although even with the most masterful translation I can see how so much of the meaning in his writing gets lost. I guess now I just have to improve my Spanish to the level where I can access Lemebel's chrónicas in their full, untranslated playfulness.
January 24, 2025
Masterfully translated, fabulously written, this collection gives us a glimpse into queer Chilean life from the 70s to 00s. Lembel writes with unashamed candour and celebrates the seedy underworld that history would like to blot out. It’s a high camp look at the serious happenings of a country oppressed, it’s hopeful and fun, and reminds us of the joy in a dark world. Loved this.
May 11, 2025
I knew I was gonna give this five stars from the first essay. I don’t know how to review a book so chock full of vibrant humor, biting political commentary, devastating descriptions… and I can only imagine how awesome this is in its native language. Suffice to say I am now one of Lemebel’s queer apostles.
October 22, 2024
Felt like Pedro was gossiping with me about the virgin travestis. Final essay was my favourite but I loved them all. Wrote beautifully about the Coup, AIDS, sex work, being trans, being low income, growing up in Chile. I really like how the essays were grouped. Fast Read!
August 15, 2024
So good. A lot of it is in metaphor, so it's sometimes hard to understand (at least for me) but still, beautifully written prose. There's some information about Chile's historical issues, but you can understand enough by the context clues.
TW: rape, murder, violence.
TW: rape, murder, violence.
June 15, 2025
Lemebal has a distinctive, biting wit, combining sardonic humour with anger, and just a touch of sorrow in the undercurrent. I have no doubt that there is much lost in translation - and it is odd to read a translation of an author who did not care to be read in English - but this gives a wonderfully immersive feel for a queer Chilean culture over decades.
August 30, 2024
Gorgeous collection of essays from a gay Chilean artist who survived the AIDS pandemic. The anger and the stories he paints are absolutely gorgeous, and this is his first time in English besides. I'm hoping this does well enough that we bring more of his writings into translation.
October 8, 2024
Pedro Lemebel's essays focus on the Queer community as they go from being celebrated to being hunted by the Chilean Pinochet government and the AIDS Epidemic. Told with love, we see the special faces and their perseverance through hardship. We see the details of the beauty of their lives despite the sometimes ger-wrenching experiences.
This book significantly impacted me as I fear for our future in this country. It is always the smallest and weakest community that tyrannical bullies target. Small populations like the LGBQ community and specifically the Trans community are always targeted first. They are the canary in the coal mine with oppressive governments. When their rights are taken away, all of our rights are taken away. This book is also a reminder of that and a reminder of what we can lose.
Favorite Passages:
“So that the revolution does not completely rot
I leave you with a message
Not for my sake
I am old
And your utopia is for future generations
There are so many children who will be born
With a little broken wing
And I want them to fly, comrade
I want your revolution
To drop them a piece of red heaven
So that they fly.”
“An asthmatic loca who, finding an exit with a last mouthful of oxygen, doesn’t know if her life or her lungs suffocated her more, who knows she’s going to hell and so wants to live no matter what, burning her hands, clambering up the smoky scaffolding until she finds a window on the third floor, so tall, so high up. And with such a big audience below, waiting perversely to see if she jumps into the void, over this crowd of onlookers who will watch fires without caring what happens. Deciding to take the leap because just maybe she’ll float down on the golden air that’s now burning her lungs. Daring to do it now, since she’s already burning and the sea’s so far away and a vertigo of waves is applauding her. Barely a step, the bonfire pushing her from behind as it ignites her hair into a torch. One step, a single step on a glass runway, and the spectacle of a loca in flames, flying high above the Valparaíso docks, will be remembered as a glittering jewel on the city’s prostituted neckline.
“Minorities sometimes come up with other ways to act in contempt, using what seems like superficiality as a weapon. Gastón, tanning on his beach towel, knew how to break free from that yard of torment, as if a loca’s irreverence could transform a beach towel into a rug for flying, a magic carpet that would hover over the iron bars, float out past the soldiers’ guns, and raise him above that camp of horrors.
Maybe some of the prisoners who got out of there alive still remember the morning when Gastón received his letter of transit, granting him permission to depart immediately for exile in some European country. Gastón, grinning from ear to ear, carefully put away his bathing suit, folded his towel, and breathed deeply, gulping down air as if he wanted, with a single sigh, to erase the morbid atmosphere of that place. Then he wished everyone goodbye and, walking on the tips of his toes, crossed over the spikes at the entrance. And, still glowing tropically, he disappeared from the road in a cloud of dust, never looking back.”
“I never knew what happened to you: maybe you were in hiding, or snatched away, tortured, riddled with bullets, or disappeared inside our national pain’s musical score, which is silent and without justice. Something tells me it was like that. Santiago is a street corner, Santiago is not the big wide world: here sooner or later everyone finds out, everything comes to light. That’s why today, after hearing that song, I mouth it silently just for you and walk splashing through puddles in the park. This winter is coming on hard, the fall afternoon sinks into a sky reflected off pools of water. Cars jammed together honk their horns at the traffic lights. The students come and go with their enormous backpacks, ready for the cold or some big march. The city dwellers shove each other at the bus stop, waiting for the Transantiago in a mass, in chaos, in a tumultuous commotion that saturates the streets. Mas la ciudad sin ti . . . mi corazón sin ti . . .”
“There’s only one photo left from that party, a bleached snapshot where the sissy faces reappear, exposed to the present at a distance. It’s not a good photo, but their sexual militancy jumps out at the viewer. The receding years frame them, their mouths are extinguished laughter, echoes of gestures frozen in the flash of a final toast. Jokes, sneers, quips, and shade drip from their lips, ready to fall, ready to lace their kisses with irony. It’s not a good photo, the image blurry, an unfocused haze that never stabilizes into memory. Maybe the photo is fuzzy because the stained tulle of AIDS shrouds almost every loca in a double disappearance. That shadow, it’s a fragile cellophane bandage that wraps around la Pilola Alessandri’s waist as she leans her faggot hips against the right side of the table. She purchased the epidemic in New York, the first one to bring it back, the genuine article, the latest, most exclusive gay trend in how to die. The hottest mortuary look, which made her drop pounds faster than any diet, leaving her as skinny and pale as the models in Vogue, as stretched and chic as an orchid’s sigh. AIDS wrung out her body and she died pressed and pleated, fashionable and stunning in the rarefied ranks of her miserly death.
“La Palma came back and died happy in her agony, stripped of her savings. She said goodbye listening to Ney Matogrosso’s music, humming the saudade of her parting. See you at the next party, she said sadly, gazing at the photo nailed to the wallboards of her misery. And right before she closed her eyes, she looked so young again, almost a blushing maid raising a glass and a fistful of bones that summer of 1973. She looked so beautiful in the photo’s reflection, wrapped in la Pilola’s white mink, so queenly in the halo of albino fur, that she told the Ghost, Hold on a sec, and held back Death’s bony hand while she took one last look at herself, indulged her narcissus in furs for one final moment. Then she closed her lids and let herself go, floating away on a velvet memory.
It’s a bad photo, the shot hastily taken because the locas couldn’t stop fidgeting, almost all of them blurred by too many poses and their wild desire to leap into the future. Practically a last supper of queer apostles, where the only thing clearly rendered is the pyramid of bones on the table. ”
In short, there’s always a metaphor that, in ridiculing, beautifies the flaw, making it unique, one’s own. A nickname that hurts at first but later makes even the girl herself laugh. What starts as overexposure to a shame constantly yelled and named and pointed out turns into a ghetto rebaptism that camouflages the real name. A reconversion where caricature becomes a sign of affection.
And there are loads of ways to name yourself.”
“And so neoliberalism cross-dresses memory’s scars, laying a mask of silver and gold across its uniformly painted eyelids, ready for Carnaval.”
“And outside, in the street, in front of the presidential palace, the blurry faces of the disappeared are pasted on signs that their family members hold against their hearts. And these photos are the only thing left of them, the only thing keeping them here at the edges of this disgusting clique. Maybe in the street, with their faces turned to the sun, illuminating their extinct features, maybe the street is the only place they can be that alive, that direct, like an ethical declaration that exposes the agreement’s end game. They’re in there—those who agreed to play a game of poker with marked cards. We’re out here, outside the game, with our memories of Sola Sierra, with the mothers and family members and the moral mettle of Viviana Díaz and Mireya García, unshakable in their demand for justice no matter who you are. They’re in there, at their long reconciliation table, toasting with wine that impunity has poisoned and breaking the bitter bread of forgetfulness.”
This book significantly impacted me as I fear for our future in this country. It is always the smallest and weakest community that tyrannical bullies target. Small populations like the LGBQ community and specifically the Trans community are always targeted first. They are the canary in the coal mine with oppressive governments. When their rights are taken away, all of our rights are taken away. This book is also a reminder of that and a reminder of what we can lose.
Favorite Passages:
“So that the revolution does not completely rot
I leave you with a message
Not for my sake
I am old
And your utopia is for future generations
There are so many children who will be born
With a little broken wing
And I want them to fly, comrade
I want your revolution
To drop them a piece of red heaven
So that they fly.”
“An asthmatic loca who, finding an exit with a last mouthful of oxygen, doesn’t know if her life or her lungs suffocated her more, who knows she’s going to hell and so wants to live no matter what, burning her hands, clambering up the smoky scaffolding until she finds a window on the third floor, so tall, so high up. And with such a big audience below, waiting perversely to see if she jumps into the void, over this crowd of onlookers who will watch fires without caring what happens. Deciding to take the leap because just maybe she’ll float down on the golden air that’s now burning her lungs. Daring to do it now, since she’s already burning and the sea’s so far away and a vertigo of waves is applauding her. Barely a step, the bonfire pushing her from behind as it ignites her hair into a torch. One step, a single step on a glass runway, and the spectacle of a loca in flames, flying high above the Valparaíso docks, will be remembered as a glittering jewel on the city’s prostituted neckline.
“Minorities sometimes come up with other ways to act in contempt, using what seems like superficiality as a weapon. Gastón, tanning on his beach towel, knew how to break free from that yard of torment, as if a loca’s irreverence could transform a beach towel into a rug for flying, a magic carpet that would hover over the iron bars, float out past the soldiers’ guns, and raise him above that camp of horrors.
Maybe some of the prisoners who got out of there alive still remember the morning when Gastón received his letter of transit, granting him permission to depart immediately for exile in some European country. Gastón, grinning from ear to ear, carefully put away his bathing suit, folded his towel, and breathed deeply, gulping down air as if he wanted, with a single sigh, to erase the morbid atmosphere of that place. Then he wished everyone goodbye and, walking on the tips of his toes, crossed over the spikes at the entrance. And, still glowing tropically, he disappeared from the road in a cloud of dust, never looking back.”
“I never knew what happened to you: maybe you were in hiding, or snatched away, tortured, riddled with bullets, or disappeared inside our national pain’s musical score, which is silent and without justice. Something tells me it was like that. Santiago is a street corner, Santiago is not the big wide world: here sooner or later everyone finds out, everything comes to light. That’s why today, after hearing that song, I mouth it silently just for you and walk splashing through puddles in the park. This winter is coming on hard, the fall afternoon sinks into a sky reflected off pools of water. Cars jammed together honk their horns at the traffic lights. The students come and go with their enormous backpacks, ready for the cold or some big march. The city dwellers shove each other at the bus stop, waiting for the Transantiago in a mass, in chaos, in a tumultuous commotion that saturates the streets. Mas la ciudad sin ti . . . mi corazón sin ti . . .”
“There’s only one photo left from that party, a bleached snapshot where the sissy faces reappear, exposed to the present at a distance. It’s not a good photo, but their sexual militancy jumps out at the viewer. The receding years frame them, their mouths are extinguished laughter, echoes of gestures frozen in the flash of a final toast. Jokes, sneers, quips, and shade drip from their lips, ready to fall, ready to lace their kisses with irony. It’s not a good photo, the image blurry, an unfocused haze that never stabilizes into memory. Maybe the photo is fuzzy because the stained tulle of AIDS shrouds almost every loca in a double disappearance. That shadow, it’s a fragile cellophane bandage that wraps around la Pilola Alessandri’s waist as she leans her faggot hips against the right side of the table. She purchased the epidemic in New York, the first one to bring it back, the genuine article, the latest, most exclusive gay trend in how to die. The hottest mortuary look, which made her drop pounds faster than any diet, leaving her as skinny and pale as the models in Vogue, as stretched and chic as an orchid’s sigh. AIDS wrung out her body and she died pressed and pleated, fashionable and stunning in the rarefied ranks of her miserly death.
“La Palma came back and died happy in her agony, stripped of her savings. She said goodbye listening to Ney Matogrosso’s music, humming the saudade of her parting. See you at the next party, she said sadly, gazing at the photo nailed to the wallboards of her misery. And right before she closed her eyes, she looked so young again, almost a blushing maid raising a glass and a fistful of bones that summer of 1973. She looked so beautiful in the photo’s reflection, wrapped in la Pilola’s white mink, so queenly in the halo of albino fur, that she told the Ghost, Hold on a sec, and held back Death’s bony hand while she took one last look at herself, indulged her narcissus in furs for one final moment. Then she closed her lids and let herself go, floating away on a velvet memory.
It’s a bad photo, the shot hastily taken because the locas couldn’t stop fidgeting, almost all of them blurred by too many poses and their wild desire to leap into the future. Practically a last supper of queer apostles, where the only thing clearly rendered is the pyramid of bones on the table. ”
In short, there’s always a metaphor that, in ridiculing, beautifies the flaw, making it unique, one’s own. A nickname that hurts at first but later makes even the girl herself laugh. What starts as overexposure to a shame constantly yelled and named and pointed out turns into a ghetto rebaptism that camouflages the real name. A reconversion where caricature becomes a sign of affection.
And there are loads of ways to name yourself.”
“And so neoliberalism cross-dresses memory’s scars, laying a mask of silver and gold across its uniformly painted eyelids, ready for Carnaval.”
“And outside, in the street, in front of the presidential palace, the blurry faces of the disappeared are pasted on signs that their family members hold against their hearts. And these photos are the only thing left of them, the only thing keeping them here at the edges of this disgusting clique. Maybe in the street, with their faces turned to the sun, illuminating their extinct features, maybe the street is the only place they can be that alive, that direct, like an ethical declaration that exposes the agreement’s end game. They’re in there—those who agreed to play a game of poker with marked cards. We’re out here, outside the game, with our memories of Sola Sierra, with the mothers and family members and the moral mettle of Viviana Díaz and Mireya García, unshakable in their demand for justice no matter who you are. They’re in there, at their long reconciliation table, toasting with wine that impunity has poisoned and breaking the bitter bread of forgetfulness.”
October 17, 2024
Um dos livros mais potentes e incríveis que já li. Estou fascinado pelo Pedro Lemebel, e parece quase que de uma ignorância imensa n ter conhecido ele, como pode alguém ter vivido com tanto inteligência, ousadia e humanidade dentro dela. As crônicas as vezes tem 1 página e mesmo assim era imposível não ficar totalmente envolvido com a história e as personagens. Demorei para terminar de ler, porque os temas são pesados, o que tornou uma leitura densa, mas ótima do início ao fim. A única tristeza é que agora só tenho mai um livro dele que foi traduzido para inglês,ou português, mas vou aprender espanhol fluente para ler tudo dele
September 21, 2024
A powerful book, and a great gift from the translator, who seems to have done a brilliant job at giving us a feel for an author who apparently had no interesting in being translated to English, the language of the imperial oppressors. I barely know any Spanish (a couple of semesters in college), but even if I could read these essays in the original language, I might miss a lot of nuance, so I'm grateful for the translator's work to make this accessible to readers of English.
Radical and brilliant, these essays are beyond easy summary, to say the least. The coup that overthrew Allende in Chile in 1973 was terrible news to me in the safety of suburban Washington, DC, but the author was in the resistance in Chile, where there was no safety from the violence. And just as the resistance gathered force to overturn the dictatorship, AIDS came along to devastate the author's community in another way. Through it all, the author celebrates his fellow "locas," and mourns their losses, and calls out the hypocrites, and does spares no-one, including himself.
P.S. Thanks to Garth Greenwell for mentioning this author and this book in a recent NYT Sunday Book Review, otherwise I might never have heard of it.
Radical and brilliant, these essays are beyond easy summary, to say the least. The coup that overthrew Allende in Chile in 1973 was terrible news to me in the safety of suburban Washington, DC, but the author was in the resistance in Chile, where there was no safety from the violence. And just as the resistance gathered force to overturn the dictatorship, AIDS came along to devastate the author's community in another way. Through it all, the author celebrates his fellow "locas," and mourns their losses, and calls out the hypocrites, and does spares no-one, including himself.
P.S. Thanks to Garth Greenwell for mentioning this author and this book in a recent NYT Sunday Book Review, otherwise I might never have heard of it.
August 6, 2025
I tend to rate 5 stars to any book that expands my horizon and blows my mind with learning. This book definitely fits that category. This collection of essays by Pedro Lemebel tells what life was like during the rise & reign of fascism in Chile in the 1980s from the perspective of queer sex workers, people with AIDS, and other marginalized communities. It is a mix of journalism, memoir, fiction, history, and poetry. Lemebel’s passion clearly comes through, and the poetic style maintained by Gwendolyn Harper is truly remarkable. Harper won the 2024 Barrios Book in Translation Prize for this work, and very well deserved! I applaud her for bringing this important work into the English language, as Lemebel very passionately stated that he will NEVER write in English.
This was such a timely read for me, as we experience the rise and reign of fascism in these here United States. This was a book I listened to by audiobook from the library, but I will be purchasing a hard copy to be able to revisit some of the beautiful poetic passages.
This was such a timely read for me, as we experience the rise and reign of fascism in these here United States. This was a book I listened to by audiobook from the library, but I will be purchasing a hard copy to be able to revisit some of the beautiful poetic passages.
January 8, 2025
I'd never encountered Pedro Lemebel before the end of 2024, and that is an absolute shame. "I speak from difference," Lemebel wrote, and in many ways this was enough to sell me on A Last Supper of Queer Apostles. What I never anticipated was how profoundly moved I'd be by this selection of crónicas: from discussions on acceptable forms of queerness to poverty to political upheaval and how those with the least amount of power are affected, these brief pieces don't hold their punches. And yet they offer a glimpse into Lemebel's heart and show how people can have a sense of love and pride in one's community. I'm not fluent in Portuguese and can only speak to the quality of the prose on and English-language level, but Lemebel's knack for reclaiming slurs and twisting the "expected" rules of grammar was extremely refreshing, and the mingling of base, crude language with devastating sentiments made for a unique and unpredictable experience. What a way to have ended my reading year.
March 5, 2025
“I'd never before spent a week straight Monday to Saturday in the afternoon delights of a juicy skewering. Never before, I swear, and after giving me so much anal cumbia and merengue, I began to stay cavernously and stereophonically open. A fart was just a note in the cathedral harmony, the raucous and hollow meowing of a symphonic opera where the trombone’s nighttime solo would huff and puff some hullabaloo from 1812 . . . at full floozy blast. I ended up so wide, so vacant, like someone had swung the backyard door open; a draft came in from behind, a cold wind that whirled inside my spiraled tar-paper garage. With pure rap, papi, with pure toots, I put up a fight for the baby raptor. And apparently I didn't do so bad in the orchestra exam, because when I asked him, What score do I get? the punk, sucking his cigarette greedily, said, A six and a half. That’s all? I said, irritated.”
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Read
June 4, 2024For this Pride Month, I'm also interested in exploring and celebrating the stories of LGBTQIA individuals who are people of colour.
The stories found in "A Last Supper of Queer Apostles: Selected Essays" by Pedro Lemebel are remarkably intimate, filled with raw emotions, provocative language, and unapologetic expressions of gay identity. Lemebel's writing stands out as a singular and irreplicable voice in literature. His unique storytelling style would likely shock and captivate straight readers while deeply resonating with the queer community. I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have chanced upon this translated work and delved into the writings of an author whose name deserves a place among the literary greats for everyone to admire.
The stories found in "A Last Supper of Queer Apostles: Selected Essays" by Pedro Lemebel are remarkably intimate, filled with raw emotions, provocative language, and unapologetic expressions of gay identity. Lemebel's writing stands out as a singular and irreplicable voice in literature. His unique storytelling style would likely shock and captivate straight readers while deeply resonating with the queer community. I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have chanced upon this translated work and delved into the writings of an author whose name deserves a place among the literary greats for everyone to admire.
August 11, 2024
I cannot say enough good things about this book. I am so grateful to have discovered Lemebel’s writing and this collection of essays was deeply moving.
The intertwined nature of each and every story was so so good and the writing is TOP NOTCH.
To be queer is to resist and to celebrate and i think this book perfectly captures that. The anti-fascist tones that pervade this book are simultaneously thought-provoking and incredibly fun. Lemebel makes the argument that joy is necessary in the face of dictatorships and the truth of that cannot be understated.
The depiction of AIDS in this book worked to enhance the author’s messages tenfold and came off as deeply tragic on the backdrop of an oppressive political moment.
This book moved me to tears at many points and I will be recommending it to everyone who asks for an essay book recommendation.
“There are so many children who will be born with a little broken wing and i want them to fly” SO TRUE.
The intertwined nature of each and every story was so so good and the writing is TOP NOTCH.
To be queer is to resist and to celebrate and i think this book perfectly captures that. The anti-fascist tones that pervade this book are simultaneously thought-provoking and incredibly fun. Lemebel makes the argument that joy is necessary in the face of dictatorships and the truth of that cannot be understated.
The depiction of AIDS in this book worked to enhance the author’s messages tenfold and came off as deeply tragic on the backdrop of an oppressive political moment.
This book moved me to tears at many points and I will be recommending it to everyone who asks for an essay book recommendation.
“There are so many children who will be born with a little broken wing and i want them to fly” SO TRUE.
July 4, 2024
A really amazing essay collection, dealing with the lives of Locas across a hugely changing Chilean society, from before to during and the time after the dictatorship. Lemebel was an amazing figure who looked with an absolutely excoriating gaze not only at the foul far right, but also at the homo- and transphobia of the Left, what she saw as the USA capitalist idea of queer identity and the absence of solidarity between locas across class divides. Foul mouthed and tragic, his writing is also really hopeful? And given the way that he went from the lowest, to an absolute icon of Chilean academia - while still not bowing to our Western academic ideals, she really was achieving something.
September 30, 2024
This (first, I believe) English-translated collection of some of late Chilean author/cultural critic Pedro Lemebel's best essays celebrating all things faggy & loca is nothing short of astounding. At times tragic, angry, funny, and above all--campy, these essays are incredibly well written. They perfectly convey the sense of pathos and disorientation brought on by living through a violent political coup (Pinochet's) while simultaneously continuing a thriving life in the resistance of the queer underground.
Far & away one of the best books I have read in a very long time, I hope this is the start of more English translations of Lemebel's work.
Best of 2024.
Far & away one of the best books I have read in a very long time, I hope this is the start of more English translations of Lemebel's work.
Best of 2024.
February 13, 2025
"And only today, when the country has leapt into the future, lugging a knapsack of cadavers that drip blood onto the path of truth and reconciliation," Pisagua on Pointe.
"And pulling them out, she found herself with a pair of enormous clown shoes. Well, what can you do, she said, strapping the pointy boats on her queenly little paws… And so the loca went clowning into the night, from tree to tree, running and stamping, hiding and trembling, as she crossed the besieged city with her heart in her hands and her dirty little bum leaking onto the dictatorship’s gloomy streets," Night at the Circus.
"And pulling them out, she found herself with a pair of enormous clown shoes. Well, what can you do, she said, strapping the pointy boats on her queenly little paws… And so the loca went clowning into the night, from tree to tree, running and stamping, hiding and trembling, as she crossed the besieged city with her heart in her hands and her dirty little bum leaking onto the dictatorship’s gloomy streets," Night at the Circus.
July 23, 2024
Translated to English for the first time - it's a must read. Fantastic collection of short works regarding all kinds of topics surrounding fascism, dictatorships, queer identity, colonialism, survival, HIV/AIDS. Very interesting discourse on Latin American queer identities, and what "gay canon" even means. Definitely some hard material at points to read, but also very beautiful and touching throughout. The most impacting thing I have read this year
Displaying 1 - 30 of 54 reviews