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Morangos Mofados
Morangos mofados é uma das mais importantes obras de Caio Fernando Abreu. Com este livro, o autor tornou-se um sucesso editorial na década de 1980 ao expor o que há de mais profundo no ser humano.
A série de contos que se entrelaçam como se fossem um romance trata de dor, fracasso, encontros, amores e esperança. Os textos abordam os anseios da geração dos anos 70 e a falta de perspectiva de concretizá-los. Apesar da passagem temporal, tais questionamentos podem ser considerados parte da realidade dos dias de hoje e conseguem envolver os leitores.
O autor, homossexual assumido, é apontado como um dos expoentes de sua geração. Ele faleceu em 1996 e deixou como marca registrada seu estilo econômico e bem pessoal em obras permeadas por temas totalmente humanos, como o sexo, o medo, a morte e a solidão.
A série de contos que se entrelaçam como se fossem um romance trata de dor, fracasso, encontros, amores e esperança. Os textos abordam os anseios da geração dos anos 70 e a falta de perspectiva de concretizá-los. Apesar da passagem temporal, tais questionamentos podem ser considerados parte da realidade dos dias de hoje e conseguem envolver os leitores.
O autor, homossexual assumido, é apontado como um dos expoentes de sua geração. Ele faleceu em 1996 e deixou como marca registrada seu estilo econômico e bem pessoal em obras permeadas por temas totalmente humanos, como o sexo, o medo, a morte e a solidão.
160 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1982
About the author
Caio Fernando Abreu
58 books220 followersCaio Fernando Loureiro de Abreu nasceu no dia 12 de setembro de 1948, em Santiago, no Rio Grande do Sul. Jovem ainda mudou-se para Porto Alegre onde publicou seus primeiros contos. Cursou Letras na Universidade Federal do Rio Grande do Sul, depois Artes Dramáticas, mas abandonou ambos para dedicar-se ao trabalho jornalístico no Centro e Sul do país, em revistas como Pop, Nova, Veja e Manchete, foi editor de Leia Livros e colaborou nos jornais Correio do Povo, Zero Hora, O Estado de São Paulo e Folha de São Paulo.
No ano de 1968 — em plena ditadura militar — foi perseguido pelo DOPS (Departamento de Ordem Política e Social), tendo se refugiado no sítio da escritora e amiga Hilda Hilst, na periferia de Campinas, São Paulo.
Considerado um dos principais contistas do Brasil, sua ficção se desenvolveu acima dos convencionalismos de qualquer ordem, evidenciando uma temática própria, juntamente com uma linguagem fora dos padrões normais.
Em 1973, querendo deixar tudo para trás, viajou para a Europa. Primeiro andou pela Espanha, transferiu-se para Estocolmo, depois Amsterdã, Londres — onde escreveu Ovelhas Negras — e Paris. Retornou a Porto Alegre em fins de 1974, sem parecer caber mais na rotina do Brasil dos militares: tinha os cabelos pintados de vermelho, usava brincos imensos nas duas orelhas e se vestia com batas de veludo cobertas de pequenos espelhos. Assim andava calmamente pela Rua da Praia, centro nervoso da capital gaúcha.
Em 1983 transferiu-se para o Rio de Janeiro e em 1985 passou a residir novamente em São Paulo. Volta à França em 1994, a convite da Casa dos Escritores Estrangeiros. Lá escreveu Bien Loin de Marienbad.
Ao saber-se portador do vírus da AIDS, em setembro de 1994, Caio Fernando Abreu retorna a Porto Alegre, onde volta a viver com seus pais. Põe-se a cuidar de roseiras, encontrando um sentido mais delicado para a vida. Foi internado no Hospital Menino Deus, onde posteriormente veio à falecer.
No ano de 1968 — em plena ditadura militar — foi perseguido pelo DOPS (Departamento de Ordem Política e Social), tendo se refugiado no sítio da escritora e amiga Hilda Hilst, na periferia de Campinas, São Paulo.
Considerado um dos principais contistas do Brasil, sua ficção se desenvolveu acima dos convencionalismos de qualquer ordem, evidenciando uma temática própria, juntamente com uma linguagem fora dos padrões normais.
Em 1973, querendo deixar tudo para trás, viajou para a Europa. Primeiro andou pela Espanha, transferiu-se para Estocolmo, depois Amsterdã, Londres — onde escreveu Ovelhas Negras — e Paris. Retornou a Porto Alegre em fins de 1974, sem parecer caber mais na rotina do Brasil dos militares: tinha os cabelos pintados de vermelho, usava brincos imensos nas duas orelhas e se vestia com batas de veludo cobertas de pequenos espelhos. Assim andava calmamente pela Rua da Praia, centro nervoso da capital gaúcha.
Em 1983 transferiu-se para o Rio de Janeiro e em 1985 passou a residir novamente em São Paulo. Volta à França em 1994, a convite da Casa dos Escritores Estrangeiros. Lá escreveu Bien Loin de Marienbad.
Ao saber-se portador do vírus da AIDS, em setembro de 1994, Caio Fernando Abreu retorna a Porto Alegre, onde volta a viver com seus pais. Põe-se a cuidar de roseiras, encontrando um sentido mais delicado para a vida. Foi internado no Hospital Menino Deus, onde posteriormente veio à falecer.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 273 reviews
May 25, 2024
Moldy Strawberries is Bruna Dantas Lobato’s translation of Morangos Mofados, a collection of short pieces by Caio Fernando Abreu, originally published in 1982 and brought into English courtesy of Archipelago Books. If Abreu had been a visual artist, Marangos Mofados would be his sketchbook: a mishmash of short works and experimental pieces, none of which feels like a polished story, but collectively displays a creative energy stifled by the circumstances. These entries are very much of a time and place. The early 1980s saw Brazil in the throes of the Figueiredo dictatorship and on the precipice of the AIDS crisis. As bad as things were in 1982, they were about to get worse. These are consequently pieces that feel written by someone who is directionless, a young queer man without hope for a happy future. At times heartbreaking, more often simply strange and stunted, this collection is a sobering window into the creative vibrancy of Abreu’s early career.
Shelved as 'abandoned'
February 22, 2023Longlisted for PEN America 2023 Translation Award
Longlisted for Republic of Consciousness 2023 US version
I decided to give up on this short story collection after not understanding the point of the first 3 stories. It is probably me and not the book but I failed to comprehend what is the fuss with this book. Maybe something was lost in translation, who knows. I could not connect with the writing style and the stories left no impression on me.
Caio Fernando Abreu was a Brazilian writer and Morango Mofados ( Moldy Strawberries) is his most famous work. The blurb says that it is a collection of short queer stories although it is not obvious from the 3 stories I read. The book was written in a period of crisis in Brazil, during an ugly dictatorship and the beginning of an AIDS epidemic, a disease that will also take the author 15 years later. The stories I read did not have anything to do with the political and social ambiance but maybe the others were different.
Longlisted for Republic of Consciousness 2023 US version
I decided to give up on this short story collection after not understanding the point of the first 3 stories. It is probably me and not the book but I failed to comprehend what is the fuss with this book. Maybe something was lost in translation, who knows. I could not connect with the writing style and the stories left no impression on me.
Caio Fernando Abreu was a Brazilian writer and Morango Mofados ( Moldy Strawberries) is his most famous work. The blurb says that it is a collection of short queer stories although it is not obvious from the 3 stories I read. The book was written in a period of crisis in Brazil, during an ugly dictatorship and the beginning of an AIDS epidemic, a disease that will also take the author 15 years later. The stories I read did not have anything to do with the political and social ambiance but maybe the others were different.
July 16, 2022
A new translation of short fiction by Brazilian writer Caio Fernando Abreu who died from an AIDs-related illness in the mid-1990s. Written during the late 70s and early 1980s at the height of Brazil’s right-wing, military dictatorship, this reads like a memento mori for a lost or losing, generation. Abreu writes about the people he knows, addicts, political activists, drag queens, painfully self-conscious student intellectuals, often queer, thrown together by their outsider, misfit status. The shunned and the marginalised existing in an era of overwhelming political repression, economic chaos and the beginnings of a devastating AIDs crisis. His stories play out in extreme close-up, elliptical fragments vie with intricate musings on philosophy, film, literature, music and human relationships: conversations in smoke-filled rooms; oozing, sweating, lusting bodies; rants on the nature of life and the slender possibility of finding some greater meaning.
By turns stunning, self-indulgent or stifling, there are jarring moments but others that convey a sense of surreal, nightmarish intensity mingled with sudden bursts of wit or tenderness, carrying echoes of Lispector, Beckett and Genet. These are portraits of people on the edge, grappling with shame, humiliation or despair but sometimes finding relief through intense, sexual encounters or brief moments of mutual recognition. And these are, through the haze, carefully-realised, recognisable individuals: with their confusion about the nature of love versus desire; their political pessimism; their creeping anxieties about ecology and growing environmental crisis briefly deferred by numbing themselves with alcohol, some new drug or "miraculous" tea. Translated by Bruna Dantas Lobato, who’s also compiled a companion playlist available via the publisher’s website.
Thanks to Edelweiss and publisher Archipelago for an ARC
Rating: 3/3.5 rounded up
By turns stunning, self-indulgent or stifling, there are jarring moments but others that convey a sense of surreal, nightmarish intensity mingled with sudden bursts of wit or tenderness, carrying echoes of Lispector, Beckett and Genet. These are portraits of people on the edge, grappling with shame, humiliation or despair but sometimes finding relief through intense, sexual encounters or brief moments of mutual recognition. And these are, through the haze, carefully-realised, recognisable individuals: with their confusion about the nature of love versus desire; their political pessimism; their creeping anxieties about ecology and growing environmental crisis briefly deferred by numbing themselves with alcohol, some new drug or "miraculous" tea. Translated by Bruna Dantas Lobato, who’s also compiled a companion playlist available via the publisher’s website.
Thanks to Edelweiss and publisher Archipelago for an ARC
Rating: 3/3.5 rounded up
April 29, 2024
Real Rating: 4.5* of five, rounded up for the excellence of the overall collection
The Publisher Says: In eighteen exhilarating stories, Caio Fernando Abreu navigates a Brazil transformed by the AIDS epidemic and stifling military dictatorship of the ’80s. Suspended between fear and longing, Abreu’s characters grasp for connection. A man speckled with Carnival glitter crosses a crowded dance floor and seeks the warmth and beauty of another body. A budding office friendship between two young men grows into a “strange and secret harmony.” One man desires another but fears that their complot might crumble with one clumsy word or gesture. Junkies, failed revolutionaries, poets, and conflicted artists face threats at every turn. But, inwardly ferocious and resilient, they heal. For Abreu there is beauty on the horizon, mingled with the light of memory and decay.
I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA NETGALLEY. THANK YOU.
My Review: The author of this collection, dead from AIDS this quarter century past, was a Bright Young Thing when the stories collected here appeared forty years ago. He was thirty-four at the time...hardly a stripling, but still in the early stages of Becoming A Writer. The world of 1982 didn't have a lot of openly gay Brazilians, and the specter of AIDS was sending most who might've come out back in to the closet. Not Abreu. Reading this collection, I understand why he started something with these stories, he ignited a kind of votary's flame that burns to light the path for those to come.
But believe you me, there are stories in here that he would've either suppressed or revised heavily were he around to consult on the publication. Things that rang the bell of the 1982 queer world (ask yourself if you even know what "Strawberry Fields" is, still less what it means to the people in 1982) are flat, or worse flat-out bad in the harsher glare of 2022's light. To be expected, of course, since Time is the arbiter of taste in all arts. Not an infallible one either. Structurally there are rules that survive and ones that are flouted so often that the flouting becomes a rule of its own. More often than not, Orthodoxy reasserts itself; the rebels who become pooh-bahs in the New Order resist the next big thing. How many Gertrude Stein imitators are there, versus how many Virginia Woolf wannabes? Time has ruled, Stein is the oddity and Woolf the innovator, both lesbian, neither conventionally inclined. Only one is Canon, though.
So this collection strikes me, at forty years' remove from its birth, as more a Steinian moment than a Woolfesque one.
I shall use the Bryce Method to elucidate my opinion of each piece within the whole over at my blog. There are eighteen stories! Way too much space to take up here.
The Publisher Says: In eighteen exhilarating stories, Caio Fernando Abreu navigates a Brazil transformed by the AIDS epidemic and stifling military dictatorship of the ’80s. Suspended between fear and longing, Abreu’s characters grasp for connection. A man speckled with Carnival glitter crosses a crowded dance floor and seeks the warmth and beauty of another body. A budding office friendship between two young men grows into a “strange and secret harmony.” One man desires another but fears that their complot might crumble with one clumsy word or gesture. Junkies, failed revolutionaries, poets, and conflicted artists face threats at every turn. But, inwardly ferocious and resilient, they heal. For Abreu there is beauty on the horizon, mingled with the light of memory and decay.
I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA NETGALLEY. THANK YOU.
My Review: The author of this collection, dead from AIDS this quarter century past, was a Bright Young Thing when the stories collected here appeared forty years ago. He was thirty-four at the time...hardly a stripling, but still in the early stages of Becoming A Writer. The world of 1982 didn't have a lot of openly gay Brazilians, and the specter of AIDS was sending most who might've come out back in to the closet. Not Abreu. Reading this collection, I understand why he started something with these stories, he ignited a kind of votary's flame that burns to light the path for those to come.
But believe you me, there are stories in here that he would've either suppressed or revised heavily were he around to consult on the publication. Things that rang the bell of the 1982 queer world (ask yourself if you even know what "Strawberry Fields" is, still less what it means to the people in 1982) are flat, or worse flat-out bad in the harsher glare of 2022's light. To be expected, of course, since Time is the arbiter of taste in all arts. Not an infallible one either. Structurally there are rules that survive and ones that are flouted so often that the flouting becomes a rule of its own. More often than not, Orthodoxy reasserts itself; the rebels who become pooh-bahs in the New Order resist the next big thing. How many Gertrude Stein imitators are there, versus how many Virginia Woolf wannabes? Time has ruled, Stein is the oddity and Woolf the innovator, both lesbian, neither conventionally inclined. Only one is Canon, though.
So this collection strikes me, at forty years' remove from its birth, as more a Steinian moment than a Woolfesque one.
I shall use the Bryce Method to elucidate my opinion of each piece within the whole over at my blog. There are eighteen stories! Way too much space to take up here.
November 3, 2022
This is a wonderful little collection. The language is lyrical, vivid and quietly inventive. The stories are varied in style: some are monologues and even a dialogue-story, some are classic storytelling or something we would call now auto-fiction. It is the experience of being gay in Brazil of the 90s. However it transcends simple identity angle. It left me with the sense of melancholy, and beauty, and understanding how it is to be up against something huge, something dreadfully violent, arrogant and destructive. It has also reminded me how it feels not to be understood by someone you really love.
This is just the one of the the excepts from the book that I found poignant:
"He walked down the streets without touching the streets, he could do that. He moved between mirrors. Walking down the street: infinity game. The now taking him back to the before, which reflected the after, a bit too similar to the now, and so forth, in circular fashion, ad infinitum". Everything reflected itself. Each reflection returned something that wasn't that street exactly. That ice, where he walked. One could argue against Him that this was just another way of not committing."
This is just the one of the the excepts from the book that I found poignant:
"He walked down the streets without touching the streets, he could do that. He moved between mirrors. Walking down the street: infinity game. The now taking him back to the before, which reflected the after, a bit too similar to the now, and so forth, in circular fashion, ad infinitum". Everything reflected itself. Each reflection returned something that wasn't that street exactly. That ice, where he walked. One could argue against Him that this was just another way of not committing."
August 2, 2020
boiolas fanchonas dr0gas fanfarra transbrasilidades imoralidades depressao confronto de geracoes aglomeracoes curticoes revelacoes e afins .Terrivel 10/10
May 18, 2017
“Give me more wine, because life is nothing.”
In this portrait of a generation born and raised during Brazilian Military Dictatorship, Caio Fernando Abreu (CFA) once again shows his mastery as a writer of short stories. In this book in which one short story is better than the one which precedes it, his geniality becomes visible on every page and every tale of it.
“- Do you have a cigarette?
- I'm trying to quit smoking.
- So am I. But I wanted something on my hands now.
- You have something on your hands.
- Me?
- Me.”
A generation for whom the dream was over. After all the changes, where was the fight? What was still worth it fighting for? There are no answers for that. Only disillusion for that. Deception. A hunger for something that would never come. The dream had already died.
"There must be some sort of sense or what will come next?”
A must-read for anyone who wants to understand more about Brazilian History, ended dreams and generations who have lost their purposes.
“Is there anything more destructive that insisting without any faith?"
In this portrait of a generation born and raised during Brazilian Military Dictatorship, Caio Fernando Abreu (CFA) once again shows his mastery as a writer of short stories. In this book in which one short story is better than the one which precedes it, his geniality becomes visible on every page and every tale of it.
“- Do you have a cigarette?
- I'm trying to quit smoking.
- So am I. But I wanted something on my hands now.
- You have something on your hands.
- Me?
- Me.”
A generation for whom the dream was over. After all the changes, where was the fight? What was still worth it fighting for? There are no answers for that. Only disillusion for that. Deception. A hunger for something that would never come. The dream had already died.
"There must be some sort of sense or what will come next?”
A must-read for anyone who wants to understand more about Brazilian History, ended dreams and generations who have lost their purposes.
“Is there anything more destructive that insisting without any faith?"
February 7, 2023
Longlisted for the 2022 Republic of Consciousness Prize, US & Canada
There must be some sort of meaning, or what would come after? This is the kind of stuff I’m thinking about this afternoon, standing here by the window, facing the endless zinc rooms where doves sometimes land, cooing. They’re gray, the doves, and the sound they make is sinister like the sound of bat wings. I know bats really well, their sharp shrieks, screeches. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I think that if I manage to make some sense out of what I’m saying, I will also, therefore, make some meaning. At the same time, or maybe right after, I think that I don’t know for sure that after this sense and meaning comes anything else.
Moldy Strawberries (2022) is Bruna Dantas Lobato's translation of a 1982 collection of stories, Morangos Mofados, from Caio Fernando Abreu (1948-1996), three-time winner of Brazil's most venerable literary prize. the Prêmio Jabuti de Literatura
It has been published by the small independent Archipelago Books:
The background to Moldy Strawberries is Brazil in the early 1980s - the blurb has it as "a Brazil transformed by the AIDS epidemic and stifling military dictatorship of the ’80s" although given this was published in early 1982, any shadow of AIDS must be purely unconscious and prescient, albeit the foreshadowing is striking read today and with the knowledge the author was to die of the condition 12 years later.
This is a striking collection - the writing is often beautiful, but beauty is found in the midst of suffering - drug addiction, repression, loneliness - with many dedicated to deceased friends, although I admired the prose at sentence level more than I connected with the stories themselves.
Sample stories - the first my favourite from the collection and from which opens as per the quote below:
Those Two
The Day Uranus Entered Scorpio (Old Story with Benefits)
Pear, Grape, Apple
The truth is, there was no one else around. Months later, not at first, one of them would say that the office was a “desert of souls.” The other one agreed, smiling, proud that he wasn’t included in that description. And little by little, between beers, they came to share sour stories about unloved and hungry women, then soccer banter, secret Santa, wish lists, fortunetellers’ addresses, a bookie, Jogo do bicho, cards for the punch clock, the occasional pastry after work, cheap champagne in plastic cups. In a desert of souls that were also deserts, one special soul immediately recognizes another—maybe for that reason, who knows? But neither of them wondered.
They never used words like special, different, nothing like that. Even though, without effort, they’d recognized each other the moment they met. It’s just that neither of them was prepared to give a name to their emotions, much less to understand them. Not that they were too young, or uneducated, or a bit stupid.
There must be some sort of meaning, or what would come after? This is the kind of stuff I’m thinking about this afternoon, standing here by the window, facing the endless zinc rooms where doves sometimes land, cooing. They’re gray, the doves, and the sound they make is sinister like the sound of bat wings. I know bats really well, their sharp shrieks, screeches. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I think that if I manage to make some sense out of what I’m saying, I will also, therefore, make some meaning. At the same time, or maybe right after, I think that I don’t know for sure that after this sense and meaning comes anything else.
Moldy Strawberries (2022) is Bruna Dantas Lobato's translation of a 1982 collection of stories, Morangos Mofados, from Caio Fernando Abreu (1948-1996), three-time winner of Brazil's most venerable literary prize. the Prêmio Jabuti de Literatura
It has been published by the small independent Archipelago Books:
Archipelago Books is a not-for-profit press devoted to publishing excellent translations of classic and contemporary world literature. In our first eighteen years, we have brought out close to two hundred books from more than thirty-five languages.
Artistic exchange between cultures is a crucial aspect of global understanding: literature can act as a catalyst to dissolve stereotypes and to reveal a common humanity between people of different nationalities, cultures, and backgrounds. It has never been more important for voices from around the world to be heard in this country. Sadly, less than three percent of new literature published in the United States originates outside the Anglosphere. By publishing diverse and innovative literary translations we are doing what we can to change this lamentable circumstance and to broaden the American literary landscape.
The background to Moldy Strawberries is Brazil in the early 1980s - the blurb has it as "a Brazil transformed by the AIDS epidemic and stifling military dictatorship of the ’80s" although given this was published in early 1982, any shadow of AIDS must be purely unconscious and prescient, albeit the foreshadowing is striking read today and with the knowledge the author was to die of the condition 12 years later.
This is a striking collection - the writing is often beautiful, but beauty is found in the midst of suffering - drug addiction, repression, loneliness - with many dedicated to deceased friends, although I admired the prose at sentence level more than I connected with the stories themselves.
Sample stories - the first my favourite from the collection and from which opens as per the quote below:
Those Two
The Day Uranus Entered Scorpio (Old Story with Benefits)
Pear, Grape, Apple
The truth is, there was no one else around. Months later, not at first, one of them would say that the office was a “desert of souls.” The other one agreed, smiling, proud that he wasn’t included in that description. And little by little, between beers, they came to share sour stories about unloved and hungry women, then soccer banter, secret Santa, wish lists, fortunetellers’ addresses, a bookie, Jogo do bicho, cards for the punch clock, the occasional pastry after work, cheap champagne in plastic cups. In a desert of souls that were also deserts, one special soul immediately recognizes another—maybe for that reason, who knows? But neither of them wondered.
They never used words like special, different, nothing like that. Even though, without effort, they’d recognized each other the moment they met. It’s just that neither of them was prepared to give a name to their emotions, much less to understand them. Not that they were too young, or uneducated, or a bit stupid.
January 5, 2017
Ok, eu sei que não existe estilo feminino e nem um estilo gay na literatura. Mas se existisse um, assim como Clarice Lispector estaria para o estilo feminino brasileiro, Caio Fernando Abreu estaria para o estilo gay. Devemos lembrar que o livro de Caio Fernando saiu na década de 70, por isso mesmo ele é tomado pela estética da época: cigarros, música dos Beatles, muita astrologia e liberdade sexual. Ainda assim, os contos de Caio Fernando são um marco por abordar a homossexualidade de forma natural, ainda que demonstre os desvios violentos no caminho. Além do célebre conto Sargento Garcia, os contos Terça-Feira Gorda e Aqueles Dois, mostram a dicotomia entre amor e sexo no universo gay e de como os gays eram desprezados nos anos 70 - não que essa realidade tenha muda muito. Poético, profundo, passivo-agressivo. Assim é este livro.
January 28, 2023
I was very affected by the stories in this collection.
The cinematic writing style is so mid to late 20th century, when showing your story was GRAND, and the flow made each story feel more complete.
Given the time- 60s to 90s; the place-Brazil under uncertain, but certainly corrupt, government; and the author himself- a queer man writing about the queer scene and the onset of AIDS- Abreu had to resort to symbolism often to avoid censorship or jail. He did this in such a subtle way- it was perfect.
Unfortunately, he still got in trouble with the Brazilian government.
The beauty of the stories is the people. Each character is respected, and the reader becomes invested in the little window of each life. The elation of first love, the confusion, the fear, the heartbreak. The constant fear of being beaten or killed by strangers, the government, family, or a tiny little virus. The need to be loved and accepted. All of these are present in the stories- whether the subject of the story or in the undercurrent.
My emotions went through the wringer with these stories- from elation to heartbreak, from joy to anger to grief. This collection is well worth the read, and I hope that more of Abreu’s works are translated soon.
The cinematic writing style is so mid to late 20th century, when showing your story was GRAND, and the flow made each story feel more complete.
Given the time- 60s to 90s; the place-Brazil under uncertain, but certainly corrupt, government; and the author himself- a queer man writing about the queer scene and the onset of AIDS- Abreu had to resort to symbolism often to avoid censorship or jail. He did this in such a subtle way- it was perfect.
Unfortunately, he still got in trouble with the Brazilian government.
The beauty of the stories is the people. Each character is respected, and the reader becomes invested in the little window of each life. The elation of first love, the confusion, the fear, the heartbreak. The constant fear of being beaten or killed by strangers, the government, family, or a tiny little virus. The need to be loved and accepted. All of these are present in the stories- whether the subject of the story or in the undercurrent.
My emotions went through the wringer with these stories- from elation to heartbreak, from joy to anger to grief. This collection is well worth the read, and I hope that more of Abreu’s works are translated soon.
September 13, 2024
fez meu ano esse daqui
January 27, 2023
I received this story collection from my Archipelago Books subscription. The author was well loved in the 1970s and 1980s of Brazil, when a military dictatorship began to censor his writing and put him on a wanted list.
His stories in Moldy Strawberries feature the alienation, indecision and insecurity experienced by gay men in those years. I was reading these stories concurrently with John Irving's latest novel, The Last Chairlift, finding plenty of parallels with those times of danger to gays, including AIDS.
The prose of Caio Fernando Abrue, at least in translation, is beautifully descriptive of both the inner and outer landscapes of his characters. His somewhat stream of consciousness style drew me into these people lives, evoking their loneliness, hopelessness and suppressed longings.
I felt a distinct Jorge Luis Borges influence and was also reminded of Clarice Lispector's writing. That might just be because of the cultural exigencies of South America in the 20th century. It seems to me that life was more unstable there than in North America but I am no expert on those differences.
I have read more short stories than usual in the past year. I find it best to read just one story a day. I have discovered that as I read my way through a collection in that fashion, I get to know its author, their concerns and views and style. When I reach the end I usually have come to an appreciation and even fondness for the writer. This was especially true in Moldy Strawberries.
His stories in Moldy Strawberries feature the alienation, indecision and insecurity experienced by gay men in those years. I was reading these stories concurrently with John Irving's latest novel, The Last Chairlift, finding plenty of parallels with those times of danger to gays, including AIDS.
The prose of Caio Fernando Abrue, at least in translation, is beautifully descriptive of both the inner and outer landscapes of his characters. His somewhat stream of consciousness style drew me into these people lives, evoking their loneliness, hopelessness and suppressed longings.
I felt a distinct Jorge Luis Borges influence and was also reminded of Clarice Lispector's writing. That might just be because of the cultural exigencies of South America in the 20th century. It seems to me that life was more unstable there than in North America but I am no expert on those differences.
I have read more short stories than usual in the past year. I find it best to read just one story a day. I have discovered that as I read my way through a collection in that fashion, I get to know its author, their concerns and views and style. When I reach the end I usually have come to an appreciation and even fondness for the writer. This was especially true in Moldy Strawberries.
April 15, 2009
Oh.. só leva 2 estrelas porque tem 4 histórias que eu realmente gostei, porque o livro em si, como um todo, é muiiiiiiiiito chato. Realmente não gosto do estilo, me parece mal escrito, grosseiro e muitas vezes sem propósito algum.
As que gostei:
- Pela Passagem de Uma Grande Dor
- Pera, Uva ou Maçã
- O Dia em que Júpiter Encontrou Saturno
- Aqueles Dois
As que gostei:
- Pela Passagem de Uma Grande Dor
- Pera, Uva ou Maçã
- O Dia em que Júpiter Encontrou Saturno
- Aqueles Dois
March 7, 2023
A collection written in the 1980’s when Brazil was suffering under miliary dictatorship and the AIDS epidemic these stories often feature lonely, depressed people trying to make connections, successfully or otherwise, people who have lost their dreams or are misunderstood. There is a line in The Day Jupiter Met Saturn where the narrator says, ‘It’s not that she was sad, more that she couldn’t feel anything anymore ‘which seems to sum up several of these characters while others seem to feel too much.
Some of the stories were almost incomprehensible with nonsensical conversations that take you out of the story, others much more straightforward. Some like the strangely compelling Survivors are one long one-sided conversation, others stream of consciousness which are interesting as pieces but not necessarily as stories. Then you get one like Fat Tuesday and it is just entrancing and emotional with a beautiful last line and Sergeant Garcia, which is more conventional in its structure and has a sense of menace surrounded by some absolutely beautiful writing as a young man is shamed by his awakening homosexuality. Most of the stories have gay encounters or relationships but then you have the Photographs duo, portraits of two entirely different women but both with visceral, sensual language to describe them as they talk about their encounters or dreams of men.
Each story is dedicated to a specific individual and several have suggested soundtracks from the Beatles to classical music and music is often playing in the background of the stories. The second story, for example, suggests listening to the evocative Gnossienne no.1 by Erik Satie while reading which I did and it did add another whole layer to the reading. The writing is often beautiful but is also often the only thing that made me appreciate a story as in Still Life, a story of one man contemplating another; Music Box also has this element of one person watching another but with a far more sinister end. I could appreciate the writing but the stories that are written in a more straightforward way tend to have been the ones that stick with me more, the story of Raul and Saul for example in Those Two and Pear, Grape, Apple with a distracted psychiatrist more concerned about his mismatched socks than his client. Overall a very varied collection but one I’m still glad to have read and looking at other reviews I’d still recommend taking a chance on.
Some of the stories were almost incomprehensible with nonsensical conversations that take you out of the story, others much more straightforward. Some like the strangely compelling Survivors are one long one-sided conversation, others stream of consciousness which are interesting as pieces but not necessarily as stories. Then you get one like Fat Tuesday and it is just entrancing and emotional with a beautiful last line and Sergeant Garcia, which is more conventional in its structure and has a sense of menace surrounded by some absolutely beautiful writing as a young man is shamed by his awakening homosexuality. Most of the stories have gay encounters or relationships but then you have the Photographs duo, portraits of two entirely different women but both with visceral, sensual language to describe them as they talk about their encounters or dreams of men.
Each story is dedicated to a specific individual and several have suggested soundtracks from the Beatles to classical music and music is often playing in the background of the stories. The second story, for example, suggests listening to the evocative Gnossienne no.1 by Erik Satie while reading which I did and it did add another whole layer to the reading. The writing is often beautiful but is also often the only thing that made me appreciate a story as in Still Life, a story of one man contemplating another; Music Box also has this element of one person watching another but with a far more sinister end. I could appreciate the writing but the stories that are written in a more straightforward way tend to have been the ones that stick with me more, the story of Raul and Saul for example in Those Two and Pear, Grape, Apple with a distracted psychiatrist more concerned about his mismatched socks than his client. Overall a very varied collection but one I’m still glad to have read and looking at other reviews I’d still recommend taking a chance on.
November 27, 2022
"I'm not drunk or crazy, I'm lucid as f*** and I confidently know I don't have a way out... I'll lie down, then go to sleep, then I'll wake up and live for a week on sencha and brown rice, absolutely saintly, absolutely pure, absolutely clean, then I'll have all the drinks, crash my car into a wall or call the suicide hotline at four in the morning or pester some fool while whispering things like I-need-a-reason-to-live-so-much... until the sun comes up behind the dark buildings, but don't worry I won't take any drastic measures, beyond keeping going, is there anything more self-destructive than persisting without faith?"
I don't think I can do this book any justice but I will try.
Published in 1982, Caio Fernando Abreu’s Moldy Strawberries (translated by Bruna Dantas Lobato) depicts outcasts, mostly queer people, surviving amidst the ever-present dangers of military dictatorship and violent homophobia while the AIDS crisis looms in the background.
Time is important in these stories, time is so fragile here just like the lives we witness in these pages. The stories are told in a breathless, frantic pace. You feel utterly exhausted within a space of three pages but also utterly exhilarated. The franticness matters because we, the readers, are unsure whether these protagonists will be alive the next day... will they make it through? The protagonists themselves are aware of this evanescence as they hopelessly strive for human connection in the 'now' as if they know that there is no future.
There are such opposing emotions in each story. Queer hope and queer death. Desire and disgust. Stagnancy and dizzying movement. Vulnerability and strength. There is so much quiet and loud desperation to be alive despite such ugliness. Such desire to escape while also giving up to one's imprisonment. Endings, so many endings, but also hints of beginnings.
Moldy Strawberries is an ode to transient beauties in life, to celebrating the present. Above all, it's an ode to queer resilience that has existed before and will continue to do so.
I don't think I can do this book any justice but I will try.
Published in 1982, Caio Fernando Abreu’s Moldy Strawberries (translated by Bruna Dantas Lobato) depicts outcasts, mostly queer people, surviving amidst the ever-present dangers of military dictatorship and violent homophobia while the AIDS crisis looms in the background.
Time is important in these stories, time is so fragile here just like the lives we witness in these pages. The stories are told in a breathless, frantic pace. You feel utterly exhausted within a space of three pages but also utterly exhilarated. The franticness matters because we, the readers, are unsure whether these protagonists will be alive the next day... will they make it through? The protagonists themselves are aware of this evanescence as they hopelessly strive for human connection in the 'now' as if they know that there is no future.
There are such opposing emotions in each story. Queer hope and queer death. Desire and disgust. Stagnancy and dizzying movement. Vulnerability and strength. There is so much quiet and loud desperation to be alive despite such ugliness. Such desire to escape while also giving up to one's imprisonment. Endings, so many endings, but also hints of beginnings.
Moldy Strawberries is an ode to transient beauties in life, to celebrating the present. Above all, it's an ode to queer resilience that has existed before and will continue to do so.
December 22, 2023
Read because it was Archipelago Books' longlisted entry for the inaugural US/Canada Republic of Consciousness Prize (entire longlist here: https://www.goodreads.com/list/show/1...).
18 short, short stories collected in this slim volume translated by Bruna Dantas Lobato. Given that Abreau died at age 47 but still managed to publish twenty books and rise to influence in Brazil in the 70s and 80s, one has to guess his was a candle burned at both ends. He gives us an eclectic mix of cerebral vignettes, libidinous queer nights, and somewhat surreal exchanges under the pull and influence of astrological signs and positions. Reading this made me realize I tend to appreciate short stories (and the collections thereof) that are unpredictable (the last collection I read was quite well-written, but never really surprised me). Abreau will confuse and surprise you. To borrow some wording from the epigraphs at the front and middle of this book, Abreau gives us the "rotten, and even the poisoned" fruit (the sick, the outcast, etc.), but makes us want to befriend these strawberries to better "know God." His style is almost clipped but carries a poetic sensibility and an air of sadness touching often on the loneliness inherent in existence regardless of physical proximity.
My favorites were:
- "Fat Tuesday" (a romance that begins between two men on the dance floor, travels to the beach, and takes an unexpected turn)
- "Pear, Grape, Apple" (a rather surreal, symbolic-laden therapy session with comical overtones)
- "Still Life" (captures the moment of possibility, anticipation, and tension before intimacy)
- "Those Two" (a remarkable workplace relationship that transcends social mores and familiar courtship rituals)
----------------------------
MENTIONED IN OR ANALOGOUS TO THIS BOOK
Gregório Gruber | putaquepariu | 3 Articles by Abreu
------------------------------------------------
My Longlist Rankings for the U.S./Canada Republic of Consciousness Prize
1) Family Album: Stories by Gabriela Alemán
2) A New Name: Septology VI-VII by Jon Fosse
3) Moldy Strawberries: Stories by Caio Fernando Abreu
4) Get ’em Young, Treat ’em Tough, Tell ’em Nothing by Robin McLean
5) God's Children Are Little Broken Things: Stories by Arinze Ifeakandu (Prize Winner)
6) The Sleeping Car Porter by Suzette Mayr
7) New Animal by Ella Baxter
8) Blood Red by Gabriela Ponce Padilla
9) Pollak's Arm by Hans von Trotha
10) New and Selected Stories by Cristina Rivera Garza
"I think that if I manage to make some sense out of what I’m saying, I will also, therefore, make some meaning. At the same time, or maybe right after, I think that I don’t know for sure that after this sense and meaning comes anything else."
18 short, short stories collected in this slim volume translated by Bruna Dantas Lobato. Given that Abreau died at age 47 but still managed to publish twenty books and rise to influence in Brazil in the 70s and 80s, one has to guess his was a candle burned at both ends. He gives us an eclectic mix of cerebral vignettes, libidinous queer nights, and somewhat surreal exchanges under the pull and influence of astrological signs and positions. Reading this made me realize I tend to appreciate short stories (and the collections thereof) that are unpredictable (the last collection I read was quite well-written, but never really surprised me). Abreau will confuse and surprise you. To borrow some wording from the epigraphs at the front and middle of this book, Abreau gives us the "rotten, and even the poisoned" fruit (the sick, the outcast, etc.), but makes us want to befriend these strawberries to better "know God." His style is almost clipped but carries a poetic sensibility and an air of sadness touching often on the loneliness inherent in existence regardless of physical proximity.
My favorites were:
- "Fat Tuesday" (a romance that begins between two men on the dance floor, travels to the beach, and takes an unexpected turn)
- "Pear, Grape, Apple" (a rather surreal, symbolic-laden therapy session with comical overtones)
- "Still Life" (captures the moment of possibility, anticipation, and tension before intimacy)
- "Those Two" (a remarkable workplace relationship that transcends social mores and familiar courtship rituals)
----------------------------
MENTIONED IN OR ANALOGOUS TO THIS BOOK
Gregório Gruber | putaquepariu | 3 Articles by Abreu
------------------------------------------------
My Longlist Rankings for the U.S./Canada Republic of Consciousness Prize
1) Family Album: Stories by Gabriela Alemán
2) A New Name: Septology VI-VII by Jon Fosse
3) Moldy Strawberries: Stories by Caio Fernando Abreu
4) Get ’em Young, Treat ’em Tough, Tell ’em Nothing by Robin McLean
5) God's Children Are Little Broken Things: Stories by Arinze Ifeakandu (Prize Winner)
6) The Sleeping Car Porter by Suzette Mayr
7) New Animal by Ella Baxter
8) Blood Red by Gabriela Ponce Padilla
9) Pollak's Arm by Hans von Trotha
10) New and Selected Stories by Cristina Rivera Garza
September 25, 2024
Primeira vez que eu li, há quase 7 anos, eu lembro de ter gostado, mas não de ter me FISGADO da forma que foi nessa releitura. foi de 3.5 estrelas para 5.
Ao som de Beatles, por vezes ácido, por vezes frenético, melancólico, angustiado; mas sempre e poético e sensível.
Logo eu, que não gosta de contos (e nem tanto de Beatles).
Caio Fernando Abreu é um desses escritores que deve estar no paraíso sagrado de autores nacionais, ao lado de Clarice, Drummond, Machado, entre outros.
“Escrever é enfiar o dedo na garganta. depois, claro, você peneira a gosma, amolda-a, transforma. pode sair até uma flor. Mas o momento decisivo, é o dedo na garganta”.
Ao fim do livro, uma carta que ele escreve para seu amigo Zézim sobre o processo de escrita que é lindo demais!
Ao som de Beatles, por vezes ácido, por vezes frenético, melancólico, angustiado; mas sempre e poético e sensível.
Logo eu, que não gosta de contos (e nem tanto de Beatles).
Caio Fernando Abreu é um desses escritores que deve estar no paraíso sagrado de autores nacionais, ao lado de Clarice, Drummond, Machado, entre outros.
“Escrever é enfiar o dedo na garganta. depois, claro, você peneira a gosma, amolda-a, transforma. pode sair até uma flor. Mas o momento decisivo, é o dedo na garganta”.
Ao fim do livro, uma carta que ele escreve para seu amigo Zézim sobre o processo de escrita que é lindo demais!
December 30, 2019
Morangos Mofados foi uma bela surpresa. Confesso que achava o livro pretensioso por sempre o ver sendo lido por adolescentes supostamente profundos nos tempos do meu Ensino Médio.
Caio escreveu esse livro ainda no período da ditadura militar, em vigência do AI-5 e o tom é de uma angústia sufocada, uma inquietação por algo novo, alguma forma de "redenção". Não paro de pensar em como esse momento específico da história se assemelha ao qual estamos passando, absurdos gritantes provocando angústias sufocantes. A esperança de alguma saída.
Em quase todas os contos também percebi uma busca incessante por afeto. Passando (ou tentando passar) por cima de muros entre as pessoas, por cima do preconceito, por cima do medo do desconhecido. A maior parte dos personagens luta por momentos de brilho, mesmo que inconscientemente, no deserto de almas mortas que as rodeia.
Sobretudo, aqui o pessoal é político e o afeto é resistência.
Quem sabe os colegas que vi no Ensino Médio já não estavam em uma luta obstinada por meio do afeto...
Caio escreveu esse livro ainda no período da ditadura militar, em vigência do AI-5 e o tom é de uma angústia sufocada, uma inquietação por algo novo, alguma forma de "redenção". Não paro de pensar em como esse momento específico da história se assemelha ao qual estamos passando, absurdos gritantes provocando angústias sufocantes. A esperança de alguma saída.
Em quase todas os contos também percebi uma busca incessante por afeto. Passando (ou tentando passar) por cima de muros entre as pessoas, por cima do preconceito, por cima do medo do desconhecido. A maior parte dos personagens luta por momentos de brilho, mesmo que inconscientemente, no deserto de almas mortas que as rodeia.
Sobretudo, aqui o pessoal é político e o afeto é resistência.
Quem sabe os colegas que vi no Ensino Médio já não estavam em uma luta obstinada por meio do afeto...
May 26, 2024
Pra ler ouvindo Marina Lima, Angela Roro e Rita Lee.
May 12, 2016
Really thought I would enjoy this one more, but only very few of the short stories worked for me. The main problem I had is that these stories were so full of dream like scenes, metaphors and just out of blue dialogues that are supposed to be raw sentiments that didn't touched me at all. Will probably work best if you enjoy introspective literature.
Read
July 26, 2012Te desejo uma fé enorme, em qualquer coisa, não importa o quê, como aquela fé que a gente teve um dia, me deseja também uma coisa bem bonita, uma coisa qualquer maravilhosa, que me faça acreditar em tudo de novo, que nos faça acreditar em tudo outra vez.
February 6, 2024
aqui jaz meu livro de cabeceira dos últimos sei lá quantos meses
September 17, 2022
"I'd seen him before, though not there. A while ago, I can't remember where. I'd been to so many places. He'd probably been to many places too. At one of those places, perhaps. Here and there. Though we didn't realize this until we finally spoke, maybe not even then. We had no words. There was only movement, sweat, his body and mine coming close, not wanting anything besides getting ting closer to each other's warmth."
I have had my eye on this book for more than a year ever since I spotted it on Archipelago's site and was dismayed that its release was far off. I was rewarded for my patience. In these stories, Abreu charts what it is like to dream while wide awake, stuck in a tragic rut with a slim possibility of egress. There is a frenetic, almost feverishly intense, quality to his writing style that makes reading a visceral experience, especially in stories where the PoV is particularly specific. Many of these stories have second-person elements or narration, turning the reader into a participant.
Most of them have queer strands or characters and they explore people straddling the edge, of lives hanging in balance just by a thread, of the existential madness kept in check. Abreu deftly portrays individuals longing for connection and hoping to belong, but at the same time anxious about union, fated to be short with a residue of disappointment, even of alarm. They transform from strangers to selves to strangers again in a rapid sequence of events. Bruna Dantas Lobato renders a stunning translation that captures the shifting and vivid prose of Abreu, story to story.
(I received a finished copy from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.)
February 25, 2023
Moldy Strawberries is where the beautiful and the ugly live side by side. The beautiful enchants while the ugly disgusts. Amid the darkness and hopelessness Abreu offers us a glimpse of hope, a promise that despite the death and despair looming over, there is always a chance for transformation. There is still life.
•
Gathered in Moldy Strawberries are rich stories with a set of characters that embody the Brazil of Abreu. Abreu's stories are visceral and unfailing as translated by Bruna Dantas Lobato. They touch on many themes such as sexual awakening, homophobia, death, or illness.
•
This is not always the easiest to read, but still, I enjoyed every single story of the collection and Moldy Strawberries reminded me of Clarice Lispector and Dirirye Osman's collection Fairytales for Lost Children.
•
"Like a fever, sometimes he was struck with the feeling that nothing in his life would ever go well, all efforts would always be futile and nothing would ever change. More than a feeling, it was a dense and viscous certainty that blocked any movement toward the light. And beyond that certainty, it was a premonition of a future where there wouldn’t be the faintest outline of any hope, faith, joy, anything."
•
I voluntarily read and reviewed an advanced copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.
•
•
Gathered in Moldy Strawberries are rich stories with a set of characters that embody the Brazil of Abreu. Abreu's stories are visceral and unfailing as translated by Bruna Dantas Lobato. They touch on many themes such as sexual awakening, homophobia, death, or illness.
•
This is not always the easiest to read, but still, I enjoyed every single story of the collection and Moldy Strawberries reminded me of Clarice Lispector and Dirirye Osman's collection Fairytales for Lost Children.
•
"Like a fever, sometimes he was struck with the feeling that nothing in his life would ever go well, all efforts would always be futile and nothing would ever change. More than a feeling, it was a dense and viscous certainty that blocked any movement toward the light. And beyond that certainty, it was a premonition of a future where there wouldn’t be the faintest outline of any hope, faith, joy, anything."
•
I voluntarily read and reviewed an advanced copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.
•
May 27, 2019
[3.5/5] “Feito febre, baixava às vezes nele aquela sensação de que nada jamais daria certo, que todos os esforços seriam para sempre inúteis, e coisa nenhuma de alguma forma se modificaria. Mais que sensação, densa certeza viscosa impedindo qualquer movimento em direção à luz. E além da certeza, a premonição de um futuro onde não haveria o menor esboço de uma espécie qualquer não sabia se de esperança, fé; alegria, mas certamente qualquer coisa assim.”
.
comecei a ler esse livro de contos em uma tarde de domingo, estava no clima perfeito para isso.
foi meu primeiro contato com a escrita de caio fernando abreu e também pesquisei muitas coisas sobre a vida dele. foi uma vida intensa, ele era uma pessoa muito intensa, que SENTIA demais. assim são os contos desse livro: intensos, crus, viscerais.
.
comecei a ler esse livro de contos em uma tarde de domingo, estava no clima perfeito para isso.
foi meu primeiro contato com a escrita de caio fernando abreu e também pesquisei muitas coisas sobre a vida dele. foi uma vida intensa, ele era uma pessoa muito intensa, que SENTIA demais. assim são os contos desse livro: intensos, crus, viscerais.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 24, 2013
Foi minha primeira vez lendo Caio Fernando Abreu e gostei muito. Claro que, sendo Morangos Mofados um livro de contos, não gostei de todas as histórias. Algumas me prenderam mais que as outras. É um livro para se ler num ritmo diferente. Um conto de cada vez, com calma. Pra mim foi bem diferente, mas gostei bastante! Vale a pena conhecer.
July 28, 2016
foi o primeiro livro do caio que eu li na vida. li pra fazer o vestibular. e me apaixonei de forma avassaladora e irremediável. os textos do caio me tocam de uma forma muito crua e visceral. falam comigo a nível espiritual.
October 3, 2008
I love everything that Caio has written in this book.
April 2, 2009
O meu livro favorito.
"Você tem um cigarro?
Estou tentando parar de fumar.
Eu também, mas queria ter algo nas mãos.
Você tem algo nas mãos...
Eu?
Eu."
"Você tem um cigarro?
Estou tentando parar de fumar.
Eu também, mas queria ter algo nas mãos.
Você tem algo nas mãos...
Eu?
Eu."
December 30, 2014
"Quanto a ti, já reparaste como o mundo parece feito de pontas e arestas?"
Displaying 1 - 30 of 273 reviews