Panza de burro: A Dive into Intimacy and Turmoil
When I first laid eyes on Panza de burro, the latest offering from the vibrant Andrea Abreu, I was both curious and a bit apprehensive. The title—translating to "Donkey’s Belly"—intrigued me, resonating with something elemental and formative in life, while other readers dubbed it Dogs of Summer for its English release. The blend of childhood nostalgia and raw adolescent exploration captured my attention immediately. Abreu’s ability to weave poignant themes with the volatile nature of growing up promised a read unlike any other.
Set against the picturesque yet harsh backdrop of Tenerife, Panza de burro follows two inseparable friends, Shit and Isora, through a summer that sparks an intense exploration of identity, sexuality, and friendship. Shit worships Isora, almost blending into her essence, navigating a sea of ever-changing emotions that oscillate between adoration and resentment. This closeness is not without its turmoil; the narrative dives headlong into the messiness of girlhood, marked by a fierce examination of desires, insecurities, and the raw realities of emerging sexuality.
Abreu’s writing style is where this experience truly shines. Her prose reads like poetry—lyrical and rhythmical, yet sharply grounded in visceral reality. I found myself enraptured by Abreu’s unflinching gaze, particularly in her descriptions of the girls’ adventures and misadventures. Expressions like, “I’d have followed her to the toilet or to the mouth of a volcano,” capture the intensity and gravity of their bond. It’s one moment of adolescent fervor after another, packed with humor and crudity that, while jarring at times, ultimately leads to profound moments of beauty.
The pacing of the novella mirrors the chaotic nature of Shit and Isora’s summer companionship. Episodes flit by, encapsulating fleeting moments of intimacy and exploration. The narrative flows seamlessly, yet it’s punctuated with reminders of a community unwilling to accept these budding queer identities—a tension that weighs heavily throughout. As they navigate their friendship, there’s a sense of doom, magnified by their surroundings, encapsulated poignantly in lines like, “We were going to die so we might as well do as much grinding as we could.” The stark realities they face—both within themselves and from external forces—stand as an ever-present shadow.
Julia Sanches deserves special mention for her skilled translation, maintaining the raw essence of Abreu’s style while also incorporating the unique dialect of the Canary Islands. It’s evocative choices like this that ground the story in authenticity, creating a vivid portrait of adolescent chaos and discovery.
As the novella races towards its conclusion, the abrupt ending left me reeling. It certainly captured the pulse of the high-stakes world these girls inhabit, yet part of me desired a more prolonged closure. Nonetheless, I appreciated how it encapsulated the precariousness of girlhood—both beautiful and threatening.
In the end, Panza de burro is undeniably visceral and unapologetic. Readers sensitive to overt and unsentimental portrayals of adolescence might find it challenging, yet beneath the crude surface lies a tenderness that resonates deeply. This book will particularly appeal to those who appreciate raw, authentic narratives exploring the complexities of friendship and burgeoning sexuality.
Ultimately, this experience with Abreu’s work has not only expanded my reading palate but has also left me eagerly anticipating what she’ll conjure next. Panza de burro is a whirlwind of raw emotion and vivid imagery—definitely put it on your reading list if you’re up for a journey through the wild terrain of girlhood.
Discover more about Panza de burro on GoodReads >>