Dark Bride: A Novel

( 6 )


Once a month, the refinery workers of the Tropical Oil Company descend upon Tora, a city in the Colombian forest. They journey down from the mountains searching for earthly bliss and hoping to encounter Sayonara, the legendary Indian prostitute who rules their squalid paradise like a queen. Beautiful, exotic, and mysterious, Sayonara, the undisputed barrio angel, captivates whoever crosses her path. Then, one day, she violates the unwritten rules of her profession and falls in love with a man she can never have. ...

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The Dark Bride: A Novel

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Once a month, the refinery workers of the Tropical Oil Company descend upon Tora, a city in the Colombian forest. They journey down from the mountains searching for earthly bliss and hoping to encounter Sayonara, the legendary Indian prostitute who rules their squalid paradise like a queen. Beautiful, exotic, and mysterious, Sayonara, the undisputed barrio angel, captivates whoever crosses her path. Then, one day, she violates the unwritten rules of her profession and falls in love with a man she can never have. Sayonara's unrequited passion has tragic consequences not only for her, but for all those whose lives ultimately depend on the Tropical Oil Company.

A slyly humorous yet poignant love story, The Dark Bride lovingly recreates the lusty, heartrending world of Colombian prostitutes and the men of the oil fields who are entranced by them. Full of wit and intelligence, tragedy and compassion, The Dark Bride is luminous and unforgettable.

Also available in Spanish

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Editorial Reviews

From Barnes & Noble
Barnes & Noble Discover Great New Writers
The Dark Bride is a smart, lushly written, heartfelt glimpse into a largely vanished world that existed deep in the oil-rich jungles of South America. Colombian author Laura Restrepo has created a wonderfully appealing and colorful cast of characters: the prostitutes of Tora, a city in the Colombian forest, and the oilmen who descend upon the city once a month to take comfort in the women's arms. These honest yet wily individuals take turns narrating the story of Sayonara, a young puta who achieved near-mythic status as a result of her legendary beauty and haughty spirit.

The headstrong Sayonara rules the putas' fabled quarter, La Catunga, until she violates the unwritten rule of her profession and falls in love with one of her customers. Unable to have the man she loves, she settles for a man who claims to love her, ultimately coming to deplore the private degradation that belies the public respectability for which she once yearned.

In bringing to life the intelligence, suffering, and tenderness of the resourceful Colombian putas and the men who are held spellbound by their charms, Laura Restrepo has written a haunting novel of touching immediacy, challenging readers to reconsider conventional assumptions about morality, strength, kindness, and the true nature of happiness. (Fall 2002 Selection)

Isabel Allende
“Love, lust, despair, pride, violence, magic and irrational hope give depth and texture to this page-turning novel.”
Publishers Weekly
Journalist, novelist, political activist and academic Restrepo (The Angel of Galilea; Leopard in the Sun) has written an innovative novel in the form of a journalist's investigation of a small Colombian oil town populated mostly by oil riggers and the prostitutes who service them. The narrator is a journalist who interviews a number of residents in the town of Tora, on the edge of the rain forest, in order to learn about the legendary prostitute Sayonara. The charismatic and irresistible daughter of a Guahibo Indian woman and a white man, Sayonara is the alpha whore of La Catunga, the barrio of prostitutes where the employees of the Tropical Oil Company come weekly to take their pleasure. Her downfall comes when she falls in love with two men, both workers with Tropical Oil. Sacramento she loves as a brother; Payanes as a lover. But Payanes is already married when they meet, and Sayonara considers marrying Sacramento, who desperately wants to save her from prostitution. Sayonara's story emerges through the lyrical voices of the interview subjects, as well as the more straightforward journalistic style of the narrator. Aphorisms abound ("The factory that smells the best is the most poisonous"), and the mostly evocative, textured prose has occasional moments of stiffness ("She was a bundle of scared chicken bones, anxious to find a connection to the world"). Still, it's hard not to get caught up in Restrepo's sexy, whirlwind narrative, which also reveals much about the effects of the global economy and Latin American politics on one small corner of Colombia. Agent, Thomas Colchie. (Aug. 1) Copyright 2002 Cahners Business Information.
Library Journal
Restrepo (Leopard in the Sun) elegantly tells the story of a young girl looking for work as a prostitute in the oil-producing city of Tora, Colombia. Shortly after her arrival, she is renamed Sayonara, and from that day on, she stirs the souls of the prostitutes and the men in the barrio who take her into their lives. Over time, Sayonara becomes a legend, enjoying the affections of her customers. This all changes when she breaks the sacred rule of the business and falls in love and nothing can save her from her own infatuation. The novel is told from the perspective of a journalist who accidentally stumbles upon Sayonara's story. Through interviews with the people who came into contact with the exotic native beauty, a tragic and vivid love story unravels. Although the story moves slowly at times, Restrepo's poetic and humorous writing makes up for any dull moments. Recommended for all libraries. [Previewed in Prepub Alert, LJ 5/15/02.] Sabrina Ferrer, formerly with "Library Journal" Copyright 2002 Cahners Business Information.
Kirkus Reviews
Colombian Restrepo (Leopard in the Sun, 1999, etc.) offers a romantic concoction about a community of prostitutes (putas) servicing workers from the oil fields. A nameless 12-year-old girl arrives in Toro and announces her desire to become a puta to the first person she meets, a boy named Santiago. With misgivings, he takes her to Todos los Santos, a prostitute whose age is catching up with her. Todos sees the possibilities in "the girl" and devotes herself to her upbringing and training. Two years later, as the girl is about to embark on her career, Santiago, her devoted playmate and an idealist, is racked with guilt that he brought her to Todos in the first place. Leaving Toro to seek a fortune that will allow him to save the girl, he ends up at the oil fields, where he befriends Payanés. Meanwhile, the girl transforms herself into Sayonara, the most mysterious and desirable prostitute in the city. Santiago, literally sick with guilt and idealized love, sends Payanés to Toro as his messenger, and, not unexpectedly, the two fall in love. Payanés promises to visit Sayonara one Friday a month, a day she'll reserve for him alone. Naturally, Payanés and Santiago's friendship is strained, but Sayonara breaks the putas' cardinal rule and asks for too much-the permanence of family. Payanés breaks her heart by admitting that he already has a family in his hometown-at which point Santiago jumps into the breach and marries Sayonara. The couple leave Toro, but Santiago is unable to forget that his wife was a prostitute. Eventually, his jealousy drives her back to Toro, where the glory days of the putas have passed. Sayonara disappears again. All await her return. Lushly imagined but filled withclichés: basically another "prostitute with a heart of gold" story, tarted up with references to Fellini and pretentious pronouncements about love.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780060088958
  • Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
  • Publication date: 8/14/2003
  • Edition description: Reprint
  • Pages: 368
  • Sales rank: 1,503,128
  • Product dimensions: 5.31 (w) x 8.00 (h) x 0.83 (d)

Meet the Author

Laura Restrepo is the bestselling author of six novels, including The Dark Bride, A Tale of the Dispossessed, and Delirio, which received Spain's prestigious Alfaguara Prize. She lives in Colombia.

Laura Restrepo fue profesora de literatura en la Universidad de Colombia, editora política en la revista Semana y miembro de la Comisión Nacional para la Paz. Ha escrito destacadas novelas tales como Leopardo al sol; Dulce Compañía, que obtuvo el premio Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz en México y el premio France Culture en Francia; y Delirio, que obtuvo el premio Alfaguara. Actualmente vive en Bogotá, Colombia.

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Read an Excerpt

"Dress nicely and brush your hair, I am going to take you to see the other world," Todos los Santos announced one day to Sayonara and her four sisters, Ana, Susana, Juana and little Chuza.

They put on their stiff organza dresses -- the ones reserved for national or religious holidays -- with frills and bibs and broad skirts puffed up with crinoline, like light-colored cotton clouds: baby chick yellow for Sayonara, cotton candy pink for Ana, sky blue for Susana, mint green for Juana and white like the snows of days gone by for little Chuza. They greased down their hair and splashed on perfume, brushed their teeth, put on their stockings and shoes, and started walking behind their madrina, dressed up in their Sunday best on a Tuesday and advancing through briars and underbrush that threatened to tear the organza and messed up their hairdos. In spite of everything, they proceeded carefully and elegantly like country people when they come into town for mass, because Todos los Santos had warned them that if they wanted to know the other world, they had to arrive with their dignity intact.

"So that no one dares to pity us," she said.

"This dress is scratchy, madrina," complained Susana.

"You'll just have to put up with it."

They reached a place away from the fence around the Troco by walking along a path that Todos los Santos knew. They went down a hill and crossed a stream after taking off their shoes to keep them from getting wet, then sat on the rocks to dry their feet, put on their shoes again, brushed their hair again and finally arrived.

"Well, there it is. That is the other world," announced Todos los Santos, in front of a place where the thick vines that clung to the length of the fence had fallen away, and where, due to some oversight in security, there were no armed guards to scare off curious or ill-intentioned people.

Piled one against the other and sheathed in their colorful organza dresses, like packages of bonbons, the five girls could see better than if they had a first-tier box, all five faces pressed against the stretch of wire fence to avoid the quadrangular frames, the five pairs of Asiatic eyes opened so wide and round that they lost their slant. From there they saw what their fantasies had not even attempted to imagine: the mythic and impenetrable Barrio Staff, where the Tropical Oil Company had installed and isolated the North American personnel who held positions of management, administration, and supervision, and which was a reduced-scale replica of the American Way of Life, as if a slice of a comfortable neighborhood in Fort Wayne, Indiana, or Phoenix, Arizona, had been removed and transplanted in the middle of the tropical jungle, with its gardens and swimming pools, its well-manicured lawns, its mailboxes like bird houses, the golf course, the tennis courts and three dozen white, spacious houses, all identical, completely imported, from the bedroom furniture to the first roof tile and the last screw. In the background and on the top of a hill, dominating the barrio, rose a house built of pinewood called Casa Loma, the residence of the general manager of the company, with its ample rooms, its vestibule, terraces, and garages.

For a long time the five girls looked mutely at everything, and since they didn't see anyone appear there inside the fence, they thought the other world was a bewitched and deserted place like Sleeping Beauty's castle. It seemed as if the inhabitants had left suddenly, without time to take any of their belongings with them. A solitary towel lay abandoned at the edge of a pool, the translucent water still agitated by an absent swimmer, an overturned tricycle as if the child who had been riding it had fallen and run to look for his mother, a lawn mower that was waiting for the man who had just gone inside for a glass of water. Objects that shined with a light of their own, still unused, as powerful as fetishes, possessed of a well-being not belonging to the people who use them but rather to the objects themselves.

"Doesn't anyone live here, madrina?" asked Sayonara in a voice lowered out of fear of shattering the mirage, but at that moment the lawnmower man came out of nowhere, started it up, and began working.

"What is that man doing, madrina?" asked Susana.

"He's cutting the grass."

"To give it to the animals?"

"No, he is cutting it because he likes it short."

"What a strange man…," said Ana. "And why do they have those poor people locked behind this fence?"

"We are the ones who are locked away, the ones on the outside, because they can leave, but they won't let us in."

"Why won't they let us in?"

"Because they are afraid of us."

"Why are they afraid of us?"

"Because we are poor and dark-skinned and we don't speak English."

"Look, madrina, the houses are like cages too," said Juana, "they can't come out through the door or the windows."

"Those are screens, so the mosquitoes don't get in."

"The mosquitoes can't get in? And the other animals can't get in either?"

"Only dogs."

"Can the dogs come out?"

"If the people open the door for them."

"What is that woman doing?" asked Ana when she saw the owner of the towel stretch out on a lawn chair to sun herself.

"She is going to lie in the sun."

"Lie in the sun? Then she must have cold blood. Machuca told me that lizards lie in the sun to get warm because they have cold blood."

"No. She wants to lie in the sun to make her skin darker."

"But why do they do that," said Sayonara, "if they don't like dark-skinned people?"

"You have to understand them," said Todos los Santos. "They weren't born here. They are North Americans."

"Why did they come here?"

"To take oil from the land."

"Why do they take it?"

"To sell it."

"Oh! Is it a good business to sell land without oil?"

"What are those two doing?" asked Ana pointing to a pair of women who were chatting at the door of a house.

"They are speaking English."

"Then how do they understand each other?"

"Because they know how to speak English. Inside there no one speaks Spanish."

"Someone should teach them…"

A group of children jumps into the pool to paddle around, a man starts washing his car, a woman picks up a hose and begins to wash her dog. Little Chuza, dazed, watched everything without missing a detail, but she didn't ask anything because little Chuza never opened her mouth.

"They wash dogs, they wash children, they wash cars…," said Juana. "What clean people! And where do they get so dirty, if there's no dirt in there?"

"There is no dirt because they clean it."

"But why do they clean it if there is no dirt…?"

"To keep busy and to kill time until they can return to their country."

"Look, madrina, they're barefoot. Don't they have shoes?"

"Yes, they do. They're barefoot because they like it -- they keep their shoes in their houses."

"So they don't get dirty?"


"What if their feet get dirty?"

"Then they wash them, like their dogs."

"But why do they wash their dogs?" asked Ana, who never in her life had seen anyone wash a dog.

"So he won't smell."

"Do their dogs smell very bad?"

"All dogs smell the same."

"I heard something," said Sayonara. "Señor Manrique told me. He said that the floors of some houses are covered with wool, like sheep."

"That really is strange!" shouted Susana. "That must be one of Sayonara's lies."

"It's true," confirmed Todos los Santos. "They are houses with rugs."

"What crazy people!"

"And what are those people doing over there, madrina?" inquired Juana, tugging on Todos los Santos's skirt.

"They are playing a game called tennis."

"But they're not children… Adults play too?"

"Yes" said Susana, showing off. "And the one who catches the ball in his hand wins."

"No, the one who throws it the furthest with the racket wins," corrected Todos los Santos. "The racket is that squashed basket they have in their hands."

"And inside there, in Barrio Staff," Ana wanted to know, "do people also die?"

"Yes, they do. Death is the only thing that strikes them whenever it wants."

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First Chapter

The Dark Bride
A Novel

Chapter One

Then slowly the night would open and the miracle unfold. Far off in the distance, against the immense, silky darkness, strings of colored lights would appear in La Catunga, the barrio of las mujeres, the women. Men, freshly bathed and splashed with cologne, would pile into trucks on payday and come down the mountain from the oil fields to the city of Tora, drawn like moths to a flame by those twinkling electric lights that held the greatest promise of earthly bliss.

"To see the lights of La Catunga from a distance? That was heaven, hermano," recalls Sacramento, who has suffered a great deal because of his memories. "For that, just for that, we would break our backs working in the cruel jungle, the four hundred workers of Campo 26. Thinking of that sweetness, we withstood the rigors of Tropical Oil."

Day after day they waded through swamps and malarial dampness, until finally the moment arrived, at the far reaches of hope, when they would glimpse the lights of La Catunga, that barrio baptized by las mujeres in honor of Santa Catalina -- la Santacata, the loving Catica, the compassionate Catunga -- in accordance with their devotion to her, whether for her chastity, her martyrdom, her beauty, or her royal status as a princess.

"She had enormous castles and inheritances," relates the elderly Todos los Santos of her princess and patron saint, "herds of elephants and three rooms overflowing with jewels that had been given to her by her father the king, who was proud to have a daughter more beautiful and pure than sunlight itself."

On foot and hatless, almost reverently but snorting like calves and jingling the coins in their pockets -- that is how on each payday the men entered those narrow, brightly lit streets they had dreamed of in their barracks, Mondays with hangovers, Tuesdays with the longing of orphans, Wednesdays with the fever of lonely males, and Thursdays with the ardor of the lovelorn.

"Llegaron los peludoooos! Here come the shaggy men!" Sacramento says falsetto to imitate a woman's shout. "They called us the shaggy men because an oil worker was proud of arriving in La Catunga looking tough, tan, hairy and bearded. But clean and smelling fine, wearing leather boots and a white shirt, with a good gold watch, necklace,and ring to show off his salary. And always, as if it were a medal, his company ID visible on his lapel. The ID that identified you as an obrero petrolero, an oil worker. That, hermano, was our badge of honor."

"Llegaron los peludoooos!" laughs Todos los Santos, showing the teeth she no longer has. "It's true, that was the war cry. Tough and shaggy, that's how we liked them, and when we saw them arriving we also shouted: Ya llego el billete! Here comes the money!"

Back then Tora was distinguished in the great vastness of the outside world as the city of the three p's: putas,plata, and petroleo, that is, whores, money, and oil. Petroleo, plata, and putas. Four p's really, if we remember that it was a paradise in the middle of a land besieged by hunger. The lords and ladies of this empire? The petroleros and the prostitutas.

"We didn't call them putas or rameras or other offensive names," remembers Sacramento. "We just called them las mujeres, because for us there were no others. In the oil world, amor de café was the only recognized form of love."

"Understand that Tora was founded by prostitutas according to our own law, way before the wives and fiancées arrived to impose their rights of exclusivity," Todos los Santos tells me, regal and handsome despite her advanced age, as she finishes a glass of mistela with the manners of a countess and smokes a fat, odoriferous cigar of the traditional brand Cigalia, with gestures worthy of the equerry of that same countess.

"Have a little smoke, reina," she offers me, reaching out the hand holding the cigar a little toward where I am not sitting, and I realize that she can't see very well.

"How could you think of that, doña, can't you see I'm choking?" I say, and she laughs; she seems to think I've said something funny.

"The ones who hold back are the most vice-ridden." She laughs and covers her mouth with her hand, like a little girl. "If you won't smoke, then have a mistela. It's refreshing and pleasant. Please don't refuse me."

In its early days word spread to the four winds that La Catunga was the optimal marketplace for love because of the abundance of money and availability of healthy males, so beauties all over the world packed their beads and baubles and came here to try their luck.

"Extraordinary beauties came here, improving upon what was already here," says Todos los Santos dotingly, then coquettishly begging forgiveness for the lack of modesty. "There were some real ladies, all so very elegant and pious. The candleholders in the sanctuary of the Sagrado Corazon never had an empty slot. One didn't go around brusquely or soil her mouth with foul words, or display poor manners as occurred later, two women fighting over a man and things of the sort. None of that. Vulgarity had no place among us."

Since there were women from so many different places, tariffs were established based upon how exotic and distant a woman's nationality was, or how sonorous her name and unusual her customs. Those who charged the most were the French: Yvonne, big and beautiful, the languid Claire, pale as the moon, and Mistinguett, who before coming to contend with the petroleros was a favorite of the painters in Montmartre.

"She always dreamed of returning to her country, that Mistinguett; she said that there she was paid just for allowing herself to be painted in the nude. There was also a painter who came here and used her as a model in a painting, but he was a modern painter, a lover of bright colors and foolish lines. She didn't approve the portrait and scolded him: 'That's not me, it looks like a chicken. I should have charged you more for wasting my time. Where do you see feathers on me, fool? Go and paint chickens and see if they turn out like women.' She said all that and then to add insult to injury she told him that he painted unholy messes and had reawakened her anxiousness to leave the country, because in France painters truly knew their trade."

The Dark Bride
A Novel
. Copyright © by Laura Restrepo . Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
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Reading Group Guide


A young girl arrives in Tora, a city in the Colombian forest, wild and unkempt and determined to become a puta. Secretive about her past, refusing to reveal even her name, she is adopted by the aging prostitute Todos los Santos, who transforms her into the bewitching and beautiful Sayonara. Sayonara's beauty and aloofness inspire legendary status among the petroleros of the Tropical Oil Company, men who live for their monthly pilgrimages to Tora.

No one is immune to Sayonara's charms, and she reigns in La Catunga, the barrio that is home to the putas -- until she violates an unwritten rule of her profession and falls in love with a man she can never have. Sayonara's unrequited passion and its consequences are at the heart of a story that unfolds in flashbacks and reminiscences told by those closest to her.Drawing on elements of magical realism and crafting them into an original and mesmerizing tale, Restrepo spins evocative, entrancing fiction that captures both the harshness and fierce excitement of Colombia's social underbelly. The Dark Bride is Sayonara's story -- passionate, poignant, and bittersweet. Questions for Discussion
  1. The narrator of The Dark Bride is a journalist conducting research, and much of the story unfolds in a series of memories and flashbacks as she interviews the various characters. What do you think of this technique? In what ways did it enhance the telling of Sayonara's story? How would the novel have differed if it had been told as a straight narrative? What do you think are the narrator's motivations?
  2. At one point in the story, when conversing withSacramento, the narrator realizes that she has "entered into a world of performances where each person approaches or retreats from his character." What does the narrator mean by this statement? Cite some examples of how this plays out throughout the story.
  3. About Todos los Santos and Sayonara, the narrator says, "They needed each other, like a fish needs the cloud that will later become water, for obvious and complementary reasons." How would you characterize their relationship?
  4. The Dark Bride is a work of fiction, but many aspects of the story are based on research the author conducted for a nonfiction article on prostitution in Colombia. Does having this knowledge change how you view the story and the characters? Did any of the depictions of La Catunga and its inhabitants surprise you?
  5. Todos Los Santos states, "Seen from above, all human life seems like a tangle of whims, becauses, and for-no-reasons, and only by intense scrutiny and thorough searching for its ends, over the long term, do you begin to find a pattern. Even those who are most caught up in the foolishness are clear about their motives for doing what they do, and there is no chance occurrence that isn't, in and of itself, a known result." How would you describe the different motivations of the characters in the book? In what ways are they in conflict with one another?
  6. Sayonara is fascinated by the postcards that Sacramento sends to her. Why is this? One postcard in particular -- depicting a snow-covered village -- leads to Sayonara's fascination with snow and her many hours of conversation about it with Frank Brasco. What is it about the idea of snow that fascinates Sayonara? What does it represent to her?
  7. Todos los Santos makes the following statement: "Religion in excess makes good nuns and terrible putas." Does religion play a role in the lives of the putas of La Catunga? How so?
  8. Why is Sayonara so secretive about her past, not even revealing her name when she first arrives in Tora? How would you relate the circumstances of her childhood-including the deaths of her mother and brother-to the life she grows up to lead? Why does Sayonara eventually seek out her father?
  9. The rice strike at the Tropical Oil Company is a momentous event in the novel. How does it affect both the petroleros and the putas? Why does Todos los Santos take Sayonara and her sisters to peer through the fence surrounding the quarters where the Tropical Oil Company houses its North American personnel? How does this incident relate to larger themes in the story?
  10. Compare Sayonara's relationships with Payanés and Sacramento. Sacramento tells the narrator that he could not forgive Payanés' betrayal, and that he also blamed Sayonara for having left him without a best friend. He then says, "Today I regret hurting her with the accusations, but at the time I let myself get carried away with the question that has no answer, whose fault was it, hers, his, or perhaps mine, or was it life's?" Was the situation anyone's fault? What could have each of the three characters done differently?
  11. How do you interpret the novel's ending?
  12. Compare The Dark Bride to other novels of magical realism that you have read, including those by Gabriel García Márquez and Isabel Allende.
About the Author: Laura Restrepo was professor of literature at the National University of Colombia, political editor of the weekly magazine Semana, and a member of the Colombian Peace Commission, a negotiating committee between guerillas and the Colombian government. She is the author of several novels, including Leopard in the Sun and The Angel of Galilea, which was awarded Mexico's Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz Prize and the Prix France Culture Award. She currently lives in Bogotá, Colombia.
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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 2.5
( 6 )
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Sort by: Showing 1 – 5 of 6 Customer Reviews
  • Posted October 30, 2008

    The Dark Bride

    I was in Iraq when I read this fabulous book, it had the power to take me out of that misery place and take me on a journey to "La Catunga". Like the workers on this book I fell in love with "La Flaca" and everything that surrounded her. I was real fortunate to have discovered such a great writer, without a doubt Laura Restrepo has become one of my favorites. <BR/><BR/>June 28, 2007: ** This was my Review in Spanish*** Me encontraba en AR Ramadi, Iraq cuando leia esta hermosa obra de Laura tuvo el poder de llevarme desde aquel infierno hasta 'La Catunga'. Me enamore de 'La Flaca' igual que los cu?eros. Es una fortuna haber leido este libro, Laura Restrepo se ha convertido sin duda una de mis favoritas!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 25, 2003

    a lyric, mysterious love story

    A lyric and mysterious lovestory between a prostituta and oil worker. Eloquently written and tasteful reading. The development of the characters are strong and holds its strength throughout the book. Written within a biographical context; a writer investigating the story behind the famous prostituta in Tora named 'Sayonara.' One of the better books that I have read in a long time.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 3, 2009

    No text was provided for this review.

  • Anonymous

    Posted August 6, 2010

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 10, 2009

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