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The Whore
In a long, delirious monologue driven by bile and cocaine, a prostitute named Anúncia recounts the story of her life, remembering and sometimes inhabiting the men and women who left the deepest scars on her psyche—her absent father, her mentally disturbed mother, the son she never wanted, the parade of lovers like the poet and the philosopher—all the while drawing grand conclusions about the nature of sex, life, and death from her own experiences. In a world ravaged by pollution and unceasing war, the narrator's acid tongue condemns anyone who believes that filth and depravity have more to do with copulation than the misery inflicted by exploitation and inequality.
In acidic, relentless, and sometimes dream-like prose, Barbieri conjures a figure at once singularly human and divine, an androgynous, eternal being made of viscera and utterance. The Whore, more than anything, is an interrogation of interiority, and the ways in which the emotional and spiritual interior is not only inseparable from one’s physical form, but, in fact, strengthened by acknowledgment of the body.
In acidic, relentless, and sometimes dream-like prose, Barbieri conjures a figure at once singularly human and divine, an androgynous, eternal being made of viscera and utterance. The Whore, more than anything, is an interrogation of interiority, and the ways in which the emotional and spiritual interior is not only inseparable from one’s physical form, but, in fact, strengthened by acknowledgment of the body.
- GenresLiteratureFictionBrazil
156 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2014
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210 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews
July 4, 2023
The Whore is Adrian Minckley's English translation of Márcia Barbieri's exquisite A Puta, published by Sublunary Editions. The Whore is an apt title because it conjures an archetype, a socially constructed identity rather than a person who may do sex work, and that's what we have here - a blistering account voiced by a woman whose identity is socially constructed, a woman whose identity doesn't extend beyond the mask she wears. A more pedestrian work would endeavor to uncover the mask and show the humanity of the woman beneath. Barbieri isn't interested in that. Instead she holds our gaze steady on the constructed identity, revealing both its inherent contradictions and also the hypocrisy of the patriarchal need to assign such a role. There is a reversal to the gaze, though, as Barbieri gives us an entire work voiced by the woman. But in what sense is it her that is speaking? The men who traverse this piece - the philosopher, the poet - are themselves archetypes, opening a conversation about the absurdity of living assigned roles. We also see the limitation of concepts existing outside grounded reality. This isn't a book that will work for everyone - it is a 150-page monologue delivered in a single paragraph - but as a highly literate contribution to feminist discourse, this was a joy to read.
February 20, 2023
"I've never been lucid, although sometimes the light gets in my eyes. I'm not sure if I'm cross-eyed or if the world is slanted. I've gutted more men than fish, because fish are rare and contested, and I don't regret it. I'm not complaining, don't get it twisted, it's a retelling, that's all. Just a recounting of the facts I saw or thought I saw or saw with a certain measure of difficulty. Better still, if you really want to know, I've had a few moments of weakness. I've never stopped to save a man, but I have felt bad for a few fish."
The Whore is a feverish, hallucinatory tale told from the point of view of Anuncia, (who as you can already assume is a sex worker) in a post-apocalyptic, war-ravaged town. Hell-bent on acerbic and sharp aphorisms, overreaching insights, as well as moments of beauty and humanity, make The Whore a unique, confusing and intriguing new translated piece of literature from Brazil, published by Sublunary Editions.
"That guilty feeling that drives people to charity was not a trait that I inherited. I have the instinctive hunger of an animal. I advocate for monsters. I perform vivisections on rabid dogs, I like to watch their hearts pumping. I don't believe in first-time offenders. There's no one to run to, each judges their own flesh. Horses can only hear the sound of their own hooves-to each the salvation of their own skin. Mine is singular, a fly roost. A larval respite."
I can't really describe what happens in The Whore. Anuncia's loves come and go, leaving a trail of death and destruction, dust and desertion, and through it she grapples with her identity as a sex worker, daughter, lover, and human. The Whore is for fans of stream of consciousness, Lispector's ethereal writing, George Bataille's visual grotesqueness (in the best way) and classic Latin American magical realism. Flat out, this book is not for everyone, though I do think there is something for everyone in this book. I know this sounds confusing though, hear me out. With many vivid descriptions of any, and all bodily functions, themes of violence and incest, there are many points that some readers may not be able to stomach. However, if you are willing to commit to this tale of humanity, Marcia Barbieri's writing will at the very least leave you admiring her talent as a writer.
"That guilty feeling that drives people to charity was not a trait that I inherited. I have the instinctive hunger of an animal. I advocate for monsters. I perform vivisections on rabid dogs, I like to watch their hearts pumping. I don't believe in first-time offenders. There's no one to run to, each judges their own flesh. Horses can only hear the sound of their own hooves-to each the salvation of their own skin. Mine is singular, a fly roost. A larval respite."
"That guilty feeling that drives people to charity was not a trait that I inherited. I have the instinctive hunger of an animal. I advocate for monsters. I perform vivisections on rabid dogs, I like to watch their hearts pumping. I don't believe in first-time offenders. There's no one to run to, each judges their own flesh. Horses can only hear the sound of their own hooves-to each the salvation of their own skin. Mine is singular, a fly roost. A larval respite."
"The taste of the seeds that wiped out crops is still floating in my saliva. I couldn't resist, I was supposed to save them, but I was so hungry it was staggering. When I chewed the seeds, it was like I was swallowing-strangling millions and millions of fetuses, of men, of women, of old people and children. My hunger wiped out an entire village."
"The poet invented the laugh to redeem him of his suicides. Ignore the fresh corpses he carries on his back. The sun departs every day behind him. How many sunsets can his vertebrae support?"
"Everything's in short supply here and because of that, we're animals. Did you know that scorpions will eat their own young when food is scarce? That doesn't faze you? Would you have the courage to eat your newborn's flesh? They say babies have tender meat because they haven't suffered yet, the only thing better than baby meat is angel."
"I decided I can't die without knowing love and, contrary to what you think, love does belong to the old, to settled souls, stretch marks help ground people's feet on the muddy earth, passion looks good at any age and I'd say the old are more prone to passion, rusty bells chime just as loud as new ones."
"The word is a grunt when compared with the silence of God."
"People devise morbid solutions to survive boredom."
"No one deserves to be victim to reality's whims."
The Whore is a feverish, hallucinatory tale told from the point of view of Anuncia, (who as you can already assume is a sex worker) in a post-apocalyptic, war-ravaged town. Hell-bent on acerbic and sharp aphorisms, overreaching insights, as well as moments of beauty and humanity, make The Whore a unique, confusing and intriguing new translated piece of literature from Brazil, published by Sublunary Editions.
"That guilty feeling that drives people to charity was not a trait that I inherited. I have the instinctive hunger of an animal. I advocate for monsters. I perform vivisections on rabid dogs, I like to watch their hearts pumping. I don't believe in first-time offenders. There's no one to run to, each judges their own flesh. Horses can only hear the sound of their own hooves-to each the salvation of their own skin. Mine is singular, a fly roost. A larval respite."
I can't really describe what happens in The Whore. Anuncia's loves come and go, leaving a trail of death and destruction, dust and desertion, and through it she grapples with her identity as a sex worker, daughter, lover, and human. The Whore is for fans of stream of consciousness, Lispector's ethereal writing, George Bataille's visual grotesqueness (in the best way) and classic Latin American magical realism. Flat out, this book is not for everyone, though I do think there is something for everyone in this book. I know this sounds confusing though, hear me out. With many vivid descriptions of any, and all bodily functions, themes of violence and incest, there are many points that some readers may not be able to stomach. However, if you are willing to commit to this tale of humanity, Marcia Barbieri's writing will at the very least leave you admiring her talent as a writer.
"That guilty feeling that drives people to charity was not a trait that I inherited. I have the instinctive hunger of an animal. I advocate for monsters. I perform vivisections on rabid dogs, I like to watch their hearts pumping. I don't believe in first-time offenders. There's no one to run to, each judges their own flesh. Horses can only hear the sound of their own hooves-to each the salvation of their own skin. Mine is singular, a fly roost. A larval respite."
"That guilty feeling that drives people to charity was not a trait that I inherited. I have the instinctive hunger of an animal. I advocate for monsters. I perform vivisections on rabid dogs, I like to watch their hearts pumping. I don't believe in first-time offenders. There's no one to run to, each judges their own flesh. Horses can only hear the sound of their own hooves-to each the salvation of their own skin. Mine is singular, a fly roost. A larval respite."
"The taste of the seeds that wiped out crops is still floating in my saliva. I couldn't resist, I was supposed to save them, but I was so hungry it was staggering. When I chewed the seeds, it was like I was swallowing-strangling millions and millions of fetuses, of men, of women, of old people and children. My hunger wiped out an entire village."
"The poet invented the laugh to redeem him of his suicides. Ignore the fresh corpses he carries on his back. The sun departs every day behind him. How many sunsets can his vertebrae support?"
"Everything's in short supply here and because of that, we're animals. Did you know that scorpions will eat their own young when food is scarce? That doesn't faze you? Would you have the courage to eat your newborn's flesh? They say babies have tender meat because they haven't suffered yet, the only thing better than baby meat is angel."
"I decided I can't die without knowing love and, contrary to what you think, love does belong to the old, to settled souls, stretch marks help ground people's feet on the muddy earth, passion looks good at any age and I'd say the old are more prone to passion, rusty bells chime just as loud as new ones."
"The word is a grunt when compared with the silence of God."
"People devise morbid solutions to survive boredom."
"No one deserves to be victim to reality's whims."
March 13, 2020
Estive com medo de ler este livro, porque tenho medo de Márcia Barbieri desde o outro livro que li dela (O enterro do lobo branco), e tive razão, esta leitura fez jus a toda a repugnância que eu sabia que teria. E isso é um elogio.
É uma experiência bem interessante, esta de estar frente a um monte de palavras sem parágrafos para respiro, lendo o que parece ser um desafio (de escrita e de leitura e de imaginação): uma coletânea de todas as fezes, melecas, doenças, humores, vísceras, vômitos, esgoto, bestas, vícios, incestos, violências, catarro, mucos, tudo agitadinho num coquetel fedido e pegajoso. Saúde!
É uma experiência bem interessante, esta de estar frente a um monte de palavras sem parágrafos para respiro, lendo o que parece ser um desafio (de escrita e de leitura e de imaginação): uma coletânea de todas as fezes, melecas, doenças, humores, vísceras, vômitos, esgoto, bestas, vícios, incestos, violências, catarro, mucos, tudo agitadinho num coquetel fedido e pegajoso. Saúde!
March 1, 2023
I am reviewing this for a venue at the moment, but I will say this is one of the most post-modern works I have read and it will both challenge and fill readers with disgust and pleasure at once.
Read
July 2, 2023Beautiful prose but the style of this book really bothered me. I wish there was more plot I guess? I have to process this I guess
September 22, 2024
This book reminds me a lot of The Passion According to G.H. and the interiority that Lispector brings to her characters. Unfortunately, I didn't enjoy The Passion, and I struggled with this book.
I really wanted to love the book, but I found very little to hold onto. I understand that it's meant to be a monologue, but there's little plot development until the last 40-45 pages and the poetic elements can be confusing.
I really wanted to love the book, but I found very little to hold onto. I understand that it's meant to be a monologue, but there's little plot development until the last 40-45 pages and the poetic elements can be confusing.
July 10, 2025
Well. That was certainly something. 145 of stream of consciousness vitriol and unabashed vulgarity. There is certainly a realism and nakedness to it, as well as finely-pointed jabs at most men (though some women in the story bear the brunt of the main character's rage) as well as at roles constructed by society. Rampant sexual imagery. I appreciated the perspective, even if the book probably wasn't meant for me.
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews