What do you think?
Rate this book
Cobra and Maitreya
The late Severo Sarduy was one of the most outrageous and baroque of the Latin American Boom writers of the sixties and seventies, and here bound back to back are his two finest creations. Cobra (1972) recounts the tale of a transvestite named Cobra, star of the Lyrical Theater of the Dolls, whose obsession is to transform his/her body. She is assisted in her metamorphosis by the Madam and Pup, Cobra's dwarfish double. They too change shape, through the violent ceremonies of a motorcycle gang, into a sect of Tibetan lamas seeking to revive Tantric Buddhism.
Maitreya (1978) continues the theme of metamorphosis, this time in the person of Luis Leng, a humble Cuban-Chinese cook, who becomes a reincarnation of Buddha. Through Leng, Sarduy traces the metamorphosis of two hitherto incomparable societies, Tibet at the moment of the Chinese invasion, and Cuba at the moment of revolution. Transgressing genres and genders, reveling in literal and figurative transvestism, these two novels are among the most daring achievements of postmodern Latin American fiction.
Maitreya (1978) continues the theme of metamorphosis, this time in the person of Luis Leng, a humble Cuban-Chinese cook, who becomes a reincarnation of Buddha. Through Leng, Sarduy traces the metamorphosis of two hitherto incomparable societies, Tibet at the moment of the Chinese invasion, and Cuba at the moment of revolution. Transgressing genres and genders, reveling in literal and figurative transvestism, these two novels are among the most daring achievements of postmodern Latin American fiction.
"Maitreya [is] a mesmerizing literary mosaic fusing the memories of a Caribbean sense of place with a fluid existential state where transmigration is commonplace." (Juana Ponce de Leon, Voice Literary Supplement 5-94)
"Maitreya's outrageous characters maneuver through endless passages and trapdoors, as if in a 'Tibetan Book of the Dead' recited by saucy drag queens. The dialogue can be as sharp as that of divas speculating cock size, but the sentences are sometimes as ornate as the spaces his characters inhabit, rambunctious as their makeup." (Lawrence Chua, Voice Literary Supplement 5-94)
"Sarduy rendered the epiphany of the body luminous, where the pleasure of the void meets the furious fire of the world." (Washington Post Book World 7-31-95)
"Hypnotic, poetic and challenging." (Gay Times 9-95)
"Cobra is composed of jewel-like sentences that unfold like paper origami in convoluted proliferation. . . . Maitreya is one of the most radiant texts I have ever read, and the translation by Suzanne Jill Levine appears as seamless as a single ocean wave, spilling us from high elegance to low camp and back again without pause." (Bruce Benderson, Cups 7-12-95)
273 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1972
11 people are currently reading
712 people want to read
About the author
Severo Sarduy
71 books57 followersSevero Sarduy was a Cuban poet, author, playwright, and critic of Cuban literature and art.
Sarduy became close friends with Roland Barthes, Philippe Sollers, and other writers connected with journal Tel Quel. His third novel, Cobra (1972), translated by Sollers won the Prix Medicis for a work of foreign literature in translation. In addition to his own writing, Sarduy edited, published and promoted the work of many other Spanish and Latin American authors first at Editions Seuil and then Editions Gallimard.
In Sarduy's 1993 obituary in The Independent, James Kirkup wrote, "Sarduy was a genius with words, one of the great contemporary stylists writing in Spanish. ... Sarduy will be remembered chiefly for his brilliant, unpredictable, iconoclastic and often grimly funny novels, works of a totally liberated imagination composed by a master of disciplined Spanish style. He encompassed the sublime and the ridiculous, mingling oral traditions with literary mannerisms adopted from his baroque masters.
Sarduy became close friends with Roland Barthes, Philippe Sollers, and other writers connected with journal Tel Quel. His third novel, Cobra (1972), translated by Sollers won the Prix Medicis for a work of foreign literature in translation. In addition to his own writing, Sarduy edited, published and promoted the work of many other Spanish and Latin American authors first at Editions Seuil and then Editions Gallimard.
In Sarduy's 1993 obituary in The Independent, James Kirkup wrote, "Sarduy was a genius with words, one of the great contemporary stylists writing in Spanish. ... Sarduy will be remembered chiefly for his brilliant, unpredictable, iconoclastic and often grimly funny novels, works of a totally liberated imagination composed by a master of disciplined Spanish style. He encompassed the sublime and the ridiculous, mingling oral traditions with literary mannerisms adopted from his baroque masters.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 20 of 20 reviews
July 22, 2022
To be perfectly honest, I have no idea what I've just read. It's all so twisted and crazy that, in the end, one can't tell the chocolate from the shit.
"Cobra" is the story of a drag queen working in Madam's Lyrical Theatre of the Dolls, a Cuban nightclub where a surreal fauna of queens, junkies, hustlers and pimps lives and thrives on the eve of the Revolution. Cobra's dream us to reshape her body - starting with her feet - and she stops at nothing to achieve her goal: santería, chemistry, drugs (opiates, speedballs and coke), Taíno rites and much more, with Madam presiding as high priestess as well as ruthless impresario. They end up producing an ugly homunculus, a dwarfish Double who might well be the embodiment of Cobra's self-contempt.
These unlikely characters set off on a journey that leads them to Tangiers - where Cobra undergoes bottom surgery in the hands of a sadistic doctor - and Paris, where she bumps into a gang of bikers keen on occultism, Buddhism and black magic (hard to tell which is which). Cobra's ultimate metamorphosis is accomplished in a grotesquely bloody ritual.
The last part of the novel is a hypnotic, visionary series of vignettes set in modern India, or rather in sort of a Western world's pop-art version of it.
First things first: "Cobra", the title and the protagonist's name. The ouroboros and the COBRA school of gestural painting (based in COpenhagen, BRussels and Amsterdam) come to mind.
Sarduy's character performs the physical and mental cycle of eternal return: first by transcending the physical boundaries of human flesh through the reshaping of her body, then by staging the ultimate psychodrama in a world that is experiencing its own painful metamorphosis: Castro's Cuba is no longer a land of decadent hedonism; modern Hinduism has turned into folklore; Buddhism has been assimilated by the shallow spirituality and cheap intellectualism of the Sixties. Sarduy's parody portays a world going through a series of radical transitions (the sex reassignment procedure) and violent ordeals (the gang-rape and its half ludicrous, half serious ritual).
***
As for "Maitreya", well - it's even more convoluted and outrageous.
The subject is similar, although more explicit and enigmatic at the same time. Metamorphosis, historical hidiosyncrasies, the fusion of ancient spirituality and modern decay.
The author leads us through three sublopts depicting the physical and psychological transition from a blurred past to an unknown future. The Dalai Lama's latest reincarnation is a depraved kid
who escapes the monastic life he was supposed to live during the Chinese invasion of Tibet to undergo a series of deaths and rebirths; a couple of acolytes (?) reach Cuba, while two Chinese (?) deformed (?) twins enjoy some years of ephemeral success as vaudeville starlets on the eve of Castro's rise to power. Lust, drugs, depravity in the shadow of an impending doom.
After an orgy of food and tantric Buddhism, the twins flee to Iran (part 3). Please note the year Sarduy wrote this novel: 1978, the beginning of the Ayatollahs' theocratic regime. Yet another metamorphosis, a reshaping of countries and human identities.
"They adopted other gods. They indulged in rites until they were bored or stupefied. To prove the impermanence and the emptiness of everything."
Sarduy's writing is pure horror vacui filled with compulsive ornamentation and phony mannerism. But that's what the whole universe is made of, as the author seems to suggest in these books.
"Cobra" is the story of a drag queen working in Madam's Lyrical Theatre of the Dolls, a Cuban nightclub where a surreal fauna of queens, junkies, hustlers and pimps lives and thrives on the eve of the Revolution. Cobra's dream us to reshape her body - starting with her feet - and she stops at nothing to achieve her goal: santería, chemistry, drugs (opiates, speedballs and coke), Taíno rites and much more, with Madam presiding as high priestess as well as ruthless impresario. They end up producing an ugly homunculus, a dwarfish Double who might well be the embodiment of Cobra's self-contempt.
These unlikely characters set off on a journey that leads them to Tangiers - where Cobra undergoes bottom surgery in the hands of a sadistic doctor - and Paris, where she bumps into a gang of bikers keen on occultism, Buddhism and black magic (hard to tell which is which). Cobra's ultimate metamorphosis is accomplished in a grotesquely bloody ritual.
The last part of the novel is a hypnotic, visionary series of vignettes set in modern India, or rather in sort of a Western world's pop-art version of it.
First things first: "Cobra", the title and the protagonist's name. The ouroboros and the COBRA school of gestural painting (based in COpenhagen, BRussels and Amsterdam) come to mind.
Sarduy's character performs the physical and mental cycle of eternal return: first by transcending the physical boundaries of human flesh through the reshaping of her body, then by staging the ultimate psychodrama in a world that is experiencing its own painful metamorphosis: Castro's Cuba is no longer a land of decadent hedonism; modern Hinduism has turned into folklore; Buddhism has been assimilated by the shallow spirituality and cheap intellectualism of the Sixties. Sarduy's parody portays a world going through a series of radical transitions (the sex reassignment procedure) and violent ordeals (the gang-rape and its half ludicrous, half serious ritual).
***
As for "Maitreya", well - it's even more convoluted and outrageous.
The subject is similar, although more explicit and enigmatic at the same time. Metamorphosis, historical hidiosyncrasies, the fusion of ancient spirituality and modern decay.
The author leads us through three sublopts depicting the physical and psychological transition from a blurred past to an unknown future. The Dalai Lama's latest reincarnation is a depraved kid
who escapes the monastic life he was supposed to live during the Chinese invasion of Tibet to undergo a series of deaths and rebirths; a couple of acolytes (?) reach Cuba, while two Chinese (?) deformed (?) twins enjoy some years of ephemeral success as vaudeville starlets on the eve of Castro's rise to power. Lust, drugs, depravity in the shadow of an impending doom.
After an orgy of food and tantric Buddhism, the twins flee to Iran (part 3). Please note the year Sarduy wrote this novel: 1978, the beginning of the Ayatollahs' theocratic regime. Yet another metamorphosis, a reshaping of countries and human identities.
"They adopted other gods. They indulged in rites until they were bored or stupefied. To prove the impermanence and the emptiness of everything."
Sarduy's writing is pure horror vacui filled with compulsive ornamentation and phony mannerism. But that's what the whole universe is made of, as the author seems to suggest in these books.
Read
January 27, 2016In Severo* Sarduy's* Cobra, the alternation is that of two pleasures in a state of competition; the other edge is the other delight: more, more, still more! one more word, one more celebration. Language reconstructs itself elsewhere under the teeming flux of every kind of linguistic pleasure. Where is this elsewhere? In the paradise of words. Cobra is in fact a paradisiac* text, utopian* (without site), a heterology* by plenitude: all the signifiers* are here and each scores a bull's-eye; the author (the reader) seems to say to them: I love you all (words, phrases, sentences, adjectives, discontinuities: pell-mell*: signs and mirages of objects which they represent); a kind of Franciscanism* invites all words to perch, to flock, to fly off again; a marbled, iridescent text; we are gorged with language, like children who are never refused anything or scolded for anything or, even worse, 'permitted' anything. Cobra is the pledge of continuous jubilation, the moment when by its very excess verbal pleasure chokes and reels into bliss. --Roland Barthes, The Pleasure of the Text
* Words not recognized by spellcheck, that most conservative of language operators.
December 8, 2009
"In Severo Sarduy's Cobra, the alternation is that of two pleasures in a state of competition; the other edge is the other delight: more, more, still more! one more word, one more celebration. Language reconstructs itself elsewhere under the teeming flux of every kind of linguistic pleasure. Where is this elsewhere? In the paradise of words. Cobra is in fact a paradisiac text, utopian (without site), a heterology by plenitude: all the signifiers are here and each scores a bull's-eye; the author (the reader) seems to say to them: I love you all (words, phrases, sentences, adjectives, discontinuities: pell-mell: signs and mirages of objects which they represent); a kind of Franciscanism invites all words to perch, to flock, to fly off again; a marbled, iridescent text; we are gorged with language, like children who are never refused anything or scolded for anything or, even worse, 'permitted' anything. Cobra is the pledge of continuous jubilation, the moment when by its very excess verbal pleasure chokes and reels into bliss."—Roland Barthes, The Pleasure of the Text
August 22, 2022
I never like it when I pick up a book that in theory should interest me tremendously, especially if it dares to be about something other than a conventional storyline, or delves into subjects I'm personally drawn to (Buddhism being one of them) ... and I end up just sliding my eye down the middle of each page in the vain hope that at some point it will all click. Both of these novels are encyclopedic avalanches of physical details, allusions, references, and authorial asides, all delivered in exhausting detail, and ultimately never worth following for more than a sentence or two at a time. The effect is less of someone with omnivorous curiosity and wide-ranging talent, and more of someone just throwing everything at the wall.
August 23, 2017
I wanted to enjoy Cobra. I came to it on the recommendation of Juliet Jacques, author of 'Trans: a Memoir', who put it first on a list of books about transgender issues (published in the Guardian). Unfortunately, the novel bored me.
Certainly, Cobra dazzles in places. The writing is extravagant and ornate. At times, Sarduy's prose paints a rich, surrealistic landscape.
Yet the book irritates as often as it impresses. The constant metamorphoses of the characters become tiresome. Sarduy's continual efforts to disorient the reader seem to serve no clear purpose.
For all the clever, postmodern schemes Sarduy might be employing, the book failed, for me, in a fairly basic sense, because it was not coherent.
Perhaps this is a novel, rather like Naked Lunch by William Burroughs (who appears, briefly, as a character), to be enjoyed in fragments rather than read cover to cover.
Certainly, Cobra dazzles in places. The writing is extravagant and ornate. At times, Sarduy's prose paints a rich, surrealistic landscape.
Yet the book irritates as often as it impresses. The constant metamorphoses of the characters become tiresome. Sarduy's continual efforts to disorient the reader seem to serve no clear purpose.
For all the clever, postmodern schemes Sarduy might be employing, the book failed, for me, in a fairly basic sense, because it was not coherent.
Perhaps this is a novel, rather like Naked Lunch by William Burroughs (who appears, briefly, as a character), to be enjoyed in fragments rather than read cover to cover.
April 15, 2022
“SWASHBUCKLING HYPERBOLE, ABRACADABRA ROCOCO AND BOUNDLESS EXAGGERATION”
To describe Cobra and Maitreya as Queer, in all senses of the word, is an understatement.
Once I got to Part II of Cobra, I was hooked. I found myself reading some of the most gorgeous prose that I have ever read. I’m not sure that I understood what I was reading. Hell, I am sure that I didn’t understand what I was reading. But, I thought, so what, just let the words, the multitude of unbelievably rich and unique adjectives and nouns drench me in a wonderfully surreal world that was hard to escape. (I haven’t seen the word “surreal” used to describe Sarduy’s writing, but I’ll use it. I’m no expert.) I could have put down the book at any time, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to miss the next unforgettable tableau. (I remember seeing the word “tableau” in either James McCourt’s introduction or in Sarduy.)
I read Cobra from beginning to end and skimmed (yes, I’ll admit it) Maitreya. By the way, Maitreya means “the Buddha who will appear in the future” Can you call Maitreya a quest novel?
Sarduy can take your breath away with one lush sentence after another and then totally creep you out with a revolting, slimy one. This excerpt from Cobra is just one of hundreds of examples of Sarduy’s otherworldly descriptive powers that I could give: “As we went into the mist we discovered forms, colors appeared. In their burrows—velvety spheres, peaches--startled, ready to roll into a ball, armadillos hid. Among nearby branches, unable to keep their balance, pheasants flew before us, burdened with ornaments, slow in the thickness of the air. Noise among the rushes: it was a fleeing tiger, orange-striped and covered with black marks.” Sarduy seems to be describing the real, natural world, and, yet, he isn’t. Something is off. You have to read him to experience this and, let’s hope, come out alive.
The following sentence from Cobra stayed with me for a long time after I read it: “The preceding tale, like all the insidious Madam’s stories, suffers from swashbuckling hyperbole, abracadabra rococo and boundless exaggeration.” I love those three adjective and noun combinations. This sentence is classic.
Sarduy is not without humor. I laughed a lot while reading him, if I wasn’t, of course, gnashing my teeth and asking myself, What the fuck is going on? At one point in Cobra, the guru says: “I care little for the human race. And enough sighs, please. I travel by jet, not by elephant. Holiness is so boring.” The Most High One (the same person as the guru) pontificates: “Verily I say to you that truth can be anything, that a true god cannot be distinguished from a madman or comedian. Let’s have more ice. And would you please stop that music. Barbarism, your name is the Western World.”
Cobra, after a harrowing female-to-male transition. meets a scary drug-dealing motorcycle-riding quartet, TOTEM, SCORPION, TUNDRA, AND TIGER in Rembrandt, a bar in, where else? Amsterdam. They tell him, “We were waiting for you.” Cobra and the butch quartet have exciting adventures in the European drug trade. What I just wrote is a ridiculously simplified summary of what Cobra and company get up to.
Two questions occur to me. What kind of hat is Severo Sarduy wearing in the author photo on the back of the book? And, did Severo Sarduy ever do drag?
To describe Cobra and Maitreya as Queer, in all senses of the word, is an understatement.
Once I got to Part II of Cobra, I was hooked. I found myself reading some of the most gorgeous prose that I have ever read. I’m not sure that I understood what I was reading. Hell, I am sure that I didn’t understand what I was reading. But, I thought, so what, just let the words, the multitude of unbelievably rich and unique adjectives and nouns drench me in a wonderfully surreal world that was hard to escape. (I haven’t seen the word “surreal” used to describe Sarduy’s writing, but I’ll use it. I’m no expert.) I could have put down the book at any time, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to miss the next unforgettable tableau. (I remember seeing the word “tableau” in either James McCourt’s introduction or in Sarduy.)
I read Cobra from beginning to end and skimmed (yes, I’ll admit it) Maitreya. By the way, Maitreya means “the Buddha who will appear in the future” Can you call Maitreya a quest novel?
Sarduy can take your breath away with one lush sentence after another and then totally creep you out with a revolting, slimy one. This excerpt from Cobra is just one of hundreds of examples of Sarduy’s otherworldly descriptive powers that I could give: “As we went into the mist we discovered forms, colors appeared. In their burrows—velvety spheres, peaches--startled, ready to roll into a ball, armadillos hid. Among nearby branches, unable to keep their balance, pheasants flew before us, burdened with ornaments, slow in the thickness of the air. Noise among the rushes: it was a fleeing tiger, orange-striped and covered with black marks.” Sarduy seems to be describing the real, natural world, and, yet, he isn’t. Something is off. You have to read him to experience this and, let’s hope, come out alive.
The following sentence from Cobra stayed with me for a long time after I read it: “The preceding tale, like all the insidious Madam’s stories, suffers from swashbuckling hyperbole, abracadabra rococo and boundless exaggeration.” I love those three adjective and noun combinations. This sentence is classic.
Sarduy is not without humor. I laughed a lot while reading him, if I wasn’t, of course, gnashing my teeth and asking myself, What the fuck is going on? At one point in Cobra, the guru says: “I care little for the human race. And enough sighs, please. I travel by jet, not by elephant. Holiness is so boring.” The Most High One (the same person as the guru) pontificates: “Verily I say to you that truth can be anything, that a true god cannot be distinguished from a madman or comedian. Let’s have more ice. And would you please stop that music. Barbarism, your name is the Western World.”
Cobra, after a harrowing female-to-male transition. meets a scary drug-dealing motorcycle-riding quartet, TOTEM, SCORPION, TUNDRA, AND TIGER in Rembrandt, a bar in, where else? Amsterdam. They tell him, “We were waiting for you.” Cobra and the butch quartet have exciting adventures in the European drug trade. What I just wrote is a ridiculously simplified summary of what Cobra and company get up to.
Two questions occur to me. What kind of hat is Severo Sarduy wearing in the author photo on the back of the book? And, did Severo Sarduy ever do drag?
September 20, 2024
Loved this for the same reason I love Agua Viva and a lot of my taste in poetry.
As Roly B said, Sarduy "invites all words to perch, to flock, to fly off again; a marbled, iridescent text; we are gorged with language, like children who are never refused anything or scolded for anything or, even worse, 'permitted' anything. Cobra is the pledge of continuous jubilation, the moment when by its very excess verbal pleasure chokes and reels into bliss."....
Yes big time this book feels like it either wants to choke you with its language or have you choke it trying to follow... but the book is getting off on your effort either way.
Which is all to say.. Cobra is bonkers, words on a page, totally senseless and weird and offputting, I loved it. I love when folks use language like its paint! To make a weird fucking painting!
As Roly B said, Sarduy "invites all words to perch, to flock, to fly off again; a marbled, iridescent text; we are gorged with language, like children who are never refused anything or scolded for anything or, even worse, 'permitted' anything. Cobra is the pledge of continuous jubilation, the moment when by its very excess verbal pleasure chokes and reels into bliss."....
Yes big time this book feels like it either wants to choke you with its language or have you choke it trying to follow... but the book is getting off on your effort either way.
Which is all to say.. Cobra is bonkers, words on a page, totally senseless and weird and offputting, I loved it. I love when folks use language like its paint! To make a weird fucking painting!
September 30, 2020
This was one of the most challenging books I have read. The wild narrative thread is consistent with the content which emphasizes constant transformation and reincarnation whether that be from a drag queen to a doll/dwarf or from a motorcycle gang member to a Tibetan lama. What balanced out the difficulty of following what was going on were the occasional brilliant sections of poetry. A post-modernist kitsch Hindu journey by a queer ex-patriate Cuban living in Paris during the 60s. If I had the Spanish level to read this in it's original def think it would have been a 4-5 stars.
Read
April 24, 2024Abandoned about 80 pages in. The metamorphoses here are so constant, I just found nothing to anchor myself to. I picked this up in the first place because I've been reading The Subversive Scribe, in which the translator writes about the daunting task of adapting Sarduy's wordplay, but my feeling is that the book exists just so you can read someone else's explanation of its brilliant wordplay. It just doesn't seem worth the bother.
June 1, 2025
I don’t think the surreal, baroque, experimental style is for me. I think Cobra has some great moments and relatable thought sequences for trans readers, but overall this was just not the book for me.
July 12, 2017
Interesting language juxtaposition
expression of multiple thought streams blended together
Surrealistic attributes through out both stories...
expression of multiple thought streams blended together
Surrealistic attributes through out both stories...
July 10, 2018
I thought Cobra was JUST GREAT. Really astounding. I was less taken with Matreiya, for whatever reason. But my goodness Cobra is a thing!
December 13, 2018
So bizarre as to be almost impossible to grasp in any way, but definitely an experience one won't forget having.
September 18, 2023
Nigh unreadable.
January 11, 2025
So he knows Buddhism, cool
September 19, 2015
Note: This review is only for Cobra and not for Matreiya
Cobra is a weird and kind of wonderful book. The first half is easy to read: quick, smart, cheeky, and magical. Sarduy has a great sense of humor and plays with the reader. I started to think of him as a Cuban Tom Robbins.
I got lost in the second half, though. The narrative is harder to follow, and the new characters--a motorcycle gang--read like drunk existentialist poets.
But it's a quick read and a cool slice of literature from someone I'd never have otherwise read. That's why I love my book club. Thanks, amazing ladies.
Cobra is a weird and kind of wonderful book. The first half is easy to read: quick, smart, cheeky, and magical. Sarduy has a great sense of humor and plays with the reader. I started to think of him as a Cuban Tom Robbins.
I got lost in the second half, though. The narrative is harder to follow, and the new characters--a motorcycle gang--read like drunk existentialist poets.
But it's a quick read and a cool slice of literature from someone I'd never have otherwise read. That's why I love my book club. Thanks, amazing ladies.
September 10, 2007
Although Sarduy's descriptions can be inspiring and sometimes thrilling in their decadent attentions, I'm left wondering if he, like the many other experimental writers, is lost for a means to create suspense other than by creating confusion in his lay reader. Is it worth plowing through the first and inevitable second time? No, not really.
August 28, 2011
Maybe the wildest book I've ever read. Dense, self-referential, violent, and sexual, reading Sarduy always makes me feel like I'm on hallucinatory drugs--in a good way. An excellent translation. But despite his unique voice and lyric prose, there's definitely some major narrative coherence sacrificed for the poetic language. The last twenty pages were incomprehensible.
Worth a read, though.
Worth a read, though.
January 25, 2014
A weird and wonderful book. Cobra seems to be more well-known but the inclusion of Maitreya is the real treat. Severo Sarduy's writing takes time and patience and is not for everyone. The influence of WSB is everywhere and often, pretty blatant. Still, Sarduy's imagination (and humor) is memorable.
Read
February 26, 2016Fiction S244c 1995
Displaying 1 - 20 of 20 reviews