{"id":22037,"date":"2023-03-13T13:01:47","date_gmt":"2023-03-13T19:01:47","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/?p=22037"},"modified":"2023-05-21T17:22:55","modified_gmt":"2023-05-21T23:22:55","slug":"from-human-sacrifices-translated-by-frances-riddle","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/2023\/03\/from-human-sacrifices-translated-by-frances-riddle\/","title":{"rendered":"From Human Sacrifices, translated by Frances Riddle"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">This acclaimed short story collection by a groundbreaking voice in contemporary Latin American literature confronts machismo, inequity, and violence.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">An undocumented woman answers a job posting only to find herself held hostage, a group of outcasts obsess over boys drowned while surfing, and an unhappy couple finds themselves trapped in a terrifying maze. With scalpel-like precision, Ampuero considers the price paid by those on the margins so that the elite might lounge comfortably, considering themselves safe in their homes.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Simultaneously terrifying and exquisite, <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Human Sacrifices<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> is \u201ctropical gothic\u201d at its finest\u2014decay and oppression underlie our humid and hostile world, where working-class women and children are consistently the weakest links in a capitalist economy. Against this backdrop of corrosion and rot, these twelves stories contemplate the nature of exploitation and abuse, illuminating the realities of those society consumes for its own pitiless ends<\/span><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/www.feministpress.org\/books-a-m\/human-sacrifices\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Human Sacrifices, <\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">by Mar\u00eda Fernanda Ampuero and translated by Frances Riddle, is forthcoming from Feminist Press in May 2023.<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><b>Leeches<\/b><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Julito\u2019s mom treated him not like a boy but like a god. The other moms would watch us cry, glance at our skinned knees, send us to wash the scrape with soap, then hit us for fighting\u2014\u201cLittle snot-nosed brats\u201d\u2014but Julito\u2019s mom would jump up in a state of panic\u2014\u201cMy son, my beautiful boy\u201d\u2014she\u2019d treat his scratch as if it were an amputation, give him a cookie, kiss the wound, and sing to him \u201cSana sana colita de rana.\u201d The other ladies would say, \u201cAy, Mar\u00eda Teresa, it\u2019s no big deal, kids are made of rubber.\u201d She would respond that Julito wasn\u2019t made of rubber: he was made of chocolate, of sugar, honey, angels\u2019 wings.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">They would laugh with tipsiness after having drunk several bottles of Julito\u2019s mom\u2019s good wine.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Since my mom was the only one who drove, she would give the other moms a ride back to their houses at the end of the afternoon, and on the way they would talk about Julito\u2019s mom.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cIt\u2019s shameful, the way she\u2019s spoiling that little boy.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cWell, it\u2019s understandable, she\u2019s an older mother. I was convinced Mar\u00eda Teresa would be alone forever, then one day she turned up pregnant. God forgive me, but if I\u2019d known my child was going to turn out like that, I would\u2019ve gotten rid of it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cI would\u2019ve kept him. You have to take the child god sends you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cGod had nothing to do with it! It was the other one who sent the boy.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cYou\u2019re terrible!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cBut listen, she keeps that boy neat as a pin. She must spend a fortune on clothes; I never see the little monster wear the same outfit twice. Where does she get the money? And she only puts out the best wine, the best cheese and ham.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cFrom the sales. She sells everything. She gives it to us for free because she wants us to like the boy.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cShe never said whose it was, did she?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cNever: that\u2019s why people make up their own stories, and they aren\u2019t talking about god.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cThat and the fact that Mar\u00eda Teresa looks like a witch and her boy keeps getting weirder and weirder.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cDid you see that nasty shit he has out in the yard?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cI couldn\u2019t look! It makes me want to vomit.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">As the moms entertained themselves with hands of cards, we tried to make up games that Julito could participate in. It wasn\u2019t easy: Julito didn\u2019t understand anything, he tore up cards, broke the rules, and immediately went crying to his mom that we were leaving him out.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The moms would shout at us without lifting their eyes from their cards\u2014\u201cPlay with Julito, dammit!\u201d\u2014and when we complained that he didn\u2019t follow directions they held up their hands with their cigarettes to shut us up.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The only fun thing about Julito was seeing him play with his leeches.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">There was a baby pool in the backyard filled with fat black leeches that were Julito\u2019s pets. Our mothers had forbidden us to go in the water no matter how hot a day, but Julito would strip naked and let the leeches stick to his body. Nothing made him happier. He would laugh and clap, and drool would drip down his chin like some translucent insect.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">His fearlessness was the only thing that made him better than us.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">After a while in the water Julito would stand up and show us his white body covered in black leeches. It was his superhero costume. Maybe because it was the only thing he did that we wouldn\u2019t do, he used the leeches to frighten us. He would pull one of those gross creatures from his nipple or his thigh or his crotch and fling it at us. He loved to watch us run away in terror, disgusted, feeling imaginary leeches all over our bodies, as he posed with outstretched arms under the sun and laughed hysterically, like a god of the underworld.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">From the spot where a leech had been sucking on him a trail of blood trickled down his body in slow motion, staining his belly, his monstrous feet.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">One day he threw a leech at my face and I felt its needlelike mouth stick immediately to my cheek. I ripped the slimy, disgusting thing off me and without thinking twice I threw it down and stomped on it as hard as I could: red blood stained the sole of my shoe. Julito transformed into a savage beast. He threw himself at me, fully naked, covered in leeches, and began to attack me.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">With his gigantic tongue, those thin, black little teeth, he got in my face and shouted the only insults he knew. The sound of his voice, hoarse, guttural, choked with rage, is something I\u2019ll never forget.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cSpawn of Sa-tan. Bas-tard. Spawn of Sa-tan. Bas-tard.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">He came at me with such force that I tripped and fell into the little pool. Immediately the leeches began to unstick from the walls in search of my flesh. The other kids pointed and laughed at me just like they laughed at Julito. Suddenly he was me and I was him. I stood up shakily and launched myself at Julito like a blind, rabid, evil animal.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">I wanted only one thing: I wanted to kill him.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Julito sickened us, Julito was dead weight, Julito was stupid and dumb, Julito let his blood be sucked by those nasty creatures, Julito\u2019s mom thought he was made of sugar and honey.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">I wasn\u2019t.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The moms came over and broke up the fight. Mine grabbed me by the hair and screamed at me. She\u2019d been drinking, so she was more violent than normal. She hit me in front of everyone and called me a monster: \u201cI don\u2019t know what to do with you, you little monster.\u201d In contrast, Julito\u2019s mom wrapped him in a towel, patted his corn-colored hair, and kissed him on his huge, veiny head.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">In the car I scratched my neck and discovered another leech. Disgusted down to my bones, I threw it out the window and imagined Julito throwing himself under the wheels of the car trying to save it and being flattened and his stinking blood staining the cement for a long time, for all of eternity, and everyone who walked by would tell their kids that this was where the ugliest boy in the world had died.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">I smiled.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">My mom asked me to tell her what happened, so I told her the truth: \u201cJulito threw a leech at me.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cLook, I know that kid is like something out of a horror movie, but you have to be nice to him, do you hear me? You have to treat him nice for your mommy. Promise me. If you fight with him, Mar\u00eda Teresa is going to be mad at me and then your mommy won\u2019t have anywhere to play cards and she\u2019ll have to stay shut inside the house all the time. You know I\u2019m not happy when I\u2019m at home, don\u2019t you? You know how angry I get if I have to spend all day shut inside the house, don\u2019t you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The next time I went to Julito\u2019s house there was no debate over what to play.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">I suggested hide-and-seek.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Julito only had two hiding places: behind the door to the guest bathroom and inside a broken refrigerator in the storage room. No one made much of an effort to look for him. He could stay hidden for ages, sometimes we forgot all about him, and when we said goodbye his mom would ask where he was and we\u2019d have to pretend that we\u2019d just started playing.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cI found you, Julito.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">He would clap and squeal with joy and try to give us kisses with his slobbery mouth.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">That day he hid in the old refrigerator. We made eye contact. I put my finger over my lips. Don\u2019t worry, I won\u2019t tell anyone, Julito.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">I left him there. Every once in a while we\u2019d shout, \u201cJulito, where are you? Where are you, Julito?\u201d We could hear his nervous little laugh from inside the appliance.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Then we forgot all about him.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">It was an incredible afternoon that went on forever. We played soccer, ping-pong, Monopoly, races, video games. We ate cookies and drank Coca-Cola. Julito had all the toys in the world, and he didn\u2019t play with any of them. Everything was gnawed on, drooled on, sticky and half-broken by his twisted hands. We pretended they were our toys and we were privileged, beloved children.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">When it came time to leave, Julito\u2019s mom asked us where he was. We told her we were playing hide-and- seek, and she smiled.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cLet\u2019s all look for him,\u201d she said, and she kissed our hands and thanked us for being so kind to her little boy. We paraded through the house, calling out to Julito. His mom shouted that his friends were leaving, that the game was over, that he was the winner, that she\u2019d made his favorite cookies. Julito was nowhere to be found. She searched the whole house, her face getting whiter and whiter, her voice shakier, her body rigid as if someone were pointing a gun at her.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cJulito, my love, come out, you won, come out and we\u2019ll give you a prize.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The moms opened closets, looked under the beds, in the dirty-clothes hamper; someone went out to the baby pool to see if he was maybe splashing around in there but found only the black leeches stuck to the walls, waiting for some live creature to fall in.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">As we were checking behind the curtains in Julito\u2019s room, my mom grabbed me by the arm so hard her nails drew blood. She said I knew where Julito was hidden and I had to tell his mom immediately. I shook my head. \u201cYou know where he is, you little bastard, I know you know.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cI don\u2019t know, I really don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cWhen we get home I\u2019m going to tell your dad to give you a beating.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">I rubbed my head in the spot where the belt buckle had hit me last time. I told her Julito\u2019s two hiding places. When I mentioned the refrigerator she went pale and her eyes opened wider than I ever knew eyes could open. She uttered three words.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cYou killed him.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Right at that moment we heard a scream that sounded like the earth opening up, like the wail of an ambulance, like an explosion, like thunder right on top of us. I don\u2019t know if I imagined it, but the entire house seemed to shake, the lights swung from the ceiling and the glass in the windows cracked. It was a sound like all the beasts of the world howling in unison, like the enraged ocean. A scream like a total eclipse.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<h5 style=\"text-align: right;\"><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Translated by Frances Riddle<\/span><\/h5>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>This acclaimed short story collection by a groundbreaking voice in contemporary Latin American literature confronts machismo, inequity, and violence. An undocumented woman answers a job posting only to find herself held hostage, a group of outcasts obsess over boys drowned while surfing, and an unhappy couple finds themselves trapped in a terrifying maze. With scalpel-like [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":5,"featured_media":21483,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2893],"tags":[4411],"genre":[],"pretext":[],"section":[],"translator":[2613],"lal_author":[4344],"class_list":["post-22037","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-adelantos-de-traduccion-y-novedades-editoriales","tag-numero-25-es","translator-frances-riddle-es","lal_author-maria-fernanda-ampuero-es"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22037","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/5"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=22037"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22037\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/21483"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=22037"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=22037"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=22037"},{"taxonomy":"genre","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/genre?post=22037"},{"taxonomy":"pretext","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pretext?post=22037"},{"taxonomy":"section","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/section?post=22037"},{"taxonomy":"translator","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/translator?post=22037"},{"taxonomy":"lal_author","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/latinamericanliteraturetoday.org\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/lal_author?post=22037"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}