Hailstones Fell without Rain is a dazzling, multilayered and often laugh-out-loud story about three generations of working-class women from one family – Graciela, Chula and Rita – who, for various reasons, are separated from one another at the start. Graciela is a Uruguayan migrant struggling to raise her three daughters in Western Sydney, whose life feels like just one bill after another, and she's reaching breaking point. Chula is Graciela's elderly aunt, a Uruguayan who lived through the civic military coup of 1973 and is still waiting for justice. And Rita is Graciela's eldest daughter, who is trying to escape her family's pressures and prejudices while being trapped by racism at work and indelibly tied to the ghosts of her mother's past.
As the novel moves across time and place, from Western Sydney to Uruguay and back again, we realise that buried secrets and family trauma always, ultimately, resurface but also that it's possible for broken connections to mend.
Natalia Figueroa Barroso is a Uruguayan-Australian poet and storyteller and a member of Sweatshop Literacy Movement, with degrees in Communication, Screenwriting and Media Production. Her work has appeared in the collections Racism: Stories on Fear, Hate and Bigotry; Any Saturday, 2021: Running Westward and Between Two Worlds and various literary magazines. She’s currently a post-production coordinator for Fika Entertainment.
Hailstones Fell Without Rain is my debut semi-autobiographical novel.
I will post (and continually update) extracts of reviews below:
“This bold and compassionate novel celebrates matrilineal connection and cultural inheritance with humour and tenderness.” — The Guardian
“An ode to working-class womanhood, motherhood and the enduring strength of blood and heart ties.” Raveena Grover, Books + Publishing
The Canberra Times named Hailstones Fell without Rain as, “one of eight new books to add to your bedside table pile.”
‘Stylistically, the novel is eclectic and exuberant – sometimes dizzyingly so. Figueroa Barroso’s prose pulses with life, blending Spanish-language lyricism and accented vowels with the staccato beat of western Sydney slang. It doesn’t pause to explain itself; like the world it represents, the novel code-switches constantly, folding Spanish into English and history into the present with unselfconscious ease. Figueroa Barroso’s vibrant literary voice echoes diverse influences, from the intergenerational structure used by Latin-American writers such as Isabel Allende and Gabriel García Márquez to the drama of telenovelas and the grit of urban realism – while still feeling wholly her own.’ — Seren Heyman-Griffiths, The Guardian
‘Spanish and Spanglish are skilfully woven into the text, enhancing and authenticating the storytelling. The politics of sexuality, identity, classism, colonisation and race smoulder throughout the text in this spirited debut.’ — Sue Reidy, NZ Herald
‘Her language fizzes and effervesces as she switches between English and Spanish, much like a Montevideo thunderstorm … What emerges from the intergenerational trauma of dispossession, repression and emigration are the unbreakable familial bonds that link las Ferreira women to each other and their ancestors.’ Nicola Heath, ABC Books
‘Hailstones Fell Without Rain is a uniquely heartfelt, heartwarming and gently funny novel that is captivating and thought-provoking.’ Meredith Jaffé, New Voices Down Under
“Hailstones Fell Without Rain is a commendable debut that explores what it means to live in community and depicts the sacrifices made in pursuit of family, ideals and identity. It’s also a fist-raise story to collective consciousness and, most fundamentally, a love letter to the matriarchy.” Dr Sarah Ayoub, The Age/SMH
“There's a lot I loved about this book: Barroso's challenging of the English language as 'default' or superior, her exploration of motherhood in times of war, and her persistent uplifting of Palestinian voices through her characters only scratch the surface.” — Soaliha labal, M!ss!ng Perspect!ves
“Hailstones Fell Without Rain is a tribute to Latinx women, Latinx families and the indomitable resilience and deep love that runs beneath immigrant communities like a current. The novel holds space for three diverse experiences of the same immigration journey in the same family, emphasising that there is no ‘one size fits all’ approach to writing Latinx stories.” — Anna Merlo, Mascara Review
I would not have picked this one up had my publicist sister not brought this to my attention. A bit different for me and it took me awhile to get into the rhythm of the writing style (which was interspersed throughout with Spanish phrases) but I ended up really loving this one.
The novel tells the story of three women from a working class family, and is broken into three parts.
Part one is about Grachu, an Uruguayan migrant living in Sydney. The novel opens with a scene of her pushing a newly purchased couch towards her apartment and her landlord waiting on her doorstep, asking why her rent is late (again).
Part two is set in Uruguay and follows the story of Grachu's aunt. In this part, we learn the back story of the family.
Part three was my favourite. It is about Rita, the eldest daughter of Grachu, who has been estranged from the family for some time. She is a fierce sort of character and stands up for what she believes in.
It is incredible to think this is the author’s debut novel and that English was not her main language spoken as a child.
I also love the title which is an Uruguayan idiom about when things happen unexpectedly! How beautiful and fitting.
This book was so beautiful I ate up the last third so quickly. I loved the storytelling especially because I’m unfamiliar with any South American history in general. Tears were shed
I read mostly on the train, but when the train stopped this morning, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from this book. I kept reading as I walked all the way to work with tears blurring my vision…this is the kind of book you multitask for!
There is so much culture and love woven into the pages of this book. Reading Hailstones felt like stepping back in time into my own family’s history. From fleeing Uruguay in the seventies to even settling in Fairfield, there was so much overlap. Grachu, Chula and Rita reminded me of the women in my family and myself, even down to their mannerisms and ways of speaking. As a second generation Latina who often wonders if I am ‘Uruguayan enough’, I can’t express how powerful it is to see yourself and your family reflected in a book like this. It felt like connection. It felt like recognition. It felt like belonging.
Reading Hailstones has inspired me to do so much more research about Uruguayan history and politics - and to make plans to finally sit down and have a mate with mi Abuela for the first time! I can’t think of a more glowing review 🧉
Loved it. Everything from the different styles of writing for the varying characters to the woven knit of their lives. They went deep into my mind. Still thinking about them...and hoping they pop up in future books 💕
You HAVE to read this book! I love how the stories of the three women connect so beautifully and delicately. I love the use of english, spanglish and spanish. Natalia is an excellent writer and even better storyteller. Get your hands on this book ASAP!
Hailstones Fell Without Rain by Natalia Figueroa Barroso is an honest, raw, and deeply relatable story of resilience, migration, trauma and healing. In Part 1 we read through the eyes of Grachu, a Uruguayan Australian single mother of 3. Grachu is in constant fight/flight working herself to the bone to pay the bills and keep food on the table in the suburbs of Western Sydney - all the while fighting against a system that wasn't built for her in an attempt to secure a safe future for herself and daughters.
What struck me most was how Grachu’s story could seamlessly be that of any strong, determined woman - yourself, your mother, your grandmother - making her journey both personal and universal. Alongside Grachu, in parts 2 and 3 we meet Tia Chula (Grachu's mother's sister) and Rita (Grachu's eldest daughter) who all in different ways carry the scars of the Uruguayan military dictatorship of 1973 and the long shadow of colonialism. Together, their stories knit a poncho of trauma, endurance, and the slow, powerful process of healing. This is the kind of story that stays with you, Grachu, Tia Chula and Tata will make their way to the forefront of your thoughts when you lie in bed late at night.
Hailstones Fell Without Rain is both a tribute to migrant women everywhere and a reminder of how history shapes our present. A moving, beautifully written read that I’ll be recommending widely.
PS if anyone wants to teach me how to slurp yerba mate please hit me up!
Through three voices, Barrossa brings us a story of Uruguayan revolt and diasporic survival. The three parts are cleverly arranged, so we first meet the middle generation, Grachu a woman who has lived a tough but rewarding life, and is now marooned by a stupid comment to her daughter that has caused a rift she can't repair. This was, for me, the strongest section of the novel, Grachu being a fully realised, compelling character juggling so many different worlds. From here, we move back in time to Uruguay, giving context to Grachu's childhood and the traumas that have reverberated through the years. The final section moves us to the conclusion of these women's stories, through the eyes of Grachu's estranged-ish daughter. Here the plot had quite a bit of work to do, and stumbles occasionally as all the pieces move into place. The book is funny, and moving, and contains several mini-stories that give life to the worlds. It feels like an odd book to comp to YA fiction to me - this is fundamentally adult in tone and is the better for it. Figueroa Barrossa's does give us a satisfying, wrapped-up conclusion, an (unfortunate?) rarity in literary fiction these days, so maybe that is why the marketing went in that direction. Either way, I would recommend this to fans of Australian literary fiction.
Drawn to this book primarily as I think it’s important to promote and support Australian talent. Especially talent that seeks to contribute to the literary landscape, flirting with new code-switching genres whilst honouring some largely Latin American traditions. As someone que he estado aprendiendo español I did like the extra Spanish, especially slang. However - I felt during the later chapters the Spanish was a little less (I know there was a reason, but I still would have preferred more).
The story was terrific, featuring interwoven history elements like Latin American authors before (Vargas Llosa, Garcia Marquez and Allende to whom I mostly refer) which force you to think critically and curiously about the world. Some very clever writing techniques were found in here, like little, sparkly treasures. Some parallelism, symbolism and motifs, some magic - but I think a true nod to the Latin American style requires more than a light touch ¿no?
The premise of the book was what drew me to it: women's lives and reflections on past political violence in South America. I had not come across a book by an Australian author that references the Uruguayan civic-military dictatorship and people's experiences during that time. I also found this book to be unapologetically intercultural, arguing for a self that is authentic insofar as it incorporates all the scars, the failures to connect and communicate, whether within families and across national borders. Each of the characters tries to live life in a way that is meaningful to them, in pursuit of safety, of love, of joy, of dreams. It's incredibly beautiful and vulnerable at the same time. I particularly found the references at the end of the book really inspiring!
What an incredible and unforgettable book! I was hooked two chapters in - a story of family and connection, three women, Chula, her niece, Graciela (Grachu) and Grachu’s daughter, Rita and lives lived in Uruguay and Australia.
Alongside this moving intergenerational story, I gained some insight into Uruguayan culture and its traumatic history. The storytelling is funny, moving, clever - and real. It’s a heartfelt read on every page.
As I was reading about Chula living through the civic-military coup in Uruguay (1973), I couldn’t help but think about the suffering and fear that has been happening and continues to happen in Palestine - and so references later in the story to @wizard_bisan1 made this fiction actually not just a story of three women but a portrait of many women and children across history and now.
We need more books like this, portraying the migrant experience and how the strength and resilience, not to mention all the wonderful culture through the arts, food, writing….has helped make Australia.
No puedo encontrar las palabras para expresar como GRATEFUL I am for this book and for Natalia putting this story on paper.
Mi padre, abuelos y tíos came to Australia in 1974 after my abuelos activism had drawn too much attention and his name became part of los milicos list to be disappeared. The pages have drawn so many parrales of what mi familia went through but so much of that has been pushed down or moved on from. There has been so much lost history and culture but finding some missing pieces within these pages was a beautiful and emotional experience.
It has also further solidified answers to the questions about what role I have as a now, very privileged individual witnessing the atrocities that continue to occur in the lands we call home and all over the world.
Riveting story told with a unique style. It traces the personal lives of three generations of women surviving the Uruguay dictatorship of the 1970s and the challenges of everyday modern life in western Sydney. The author pulls the threads together with great authenticity - she has clearly lived the experience or lived with people who have. And, for the readers who haven't, she draws us deeper into the story by interrupting it occasionally with a clever Brecht-style narration that fills in the gaps. It made me laugh, made me angry, made me think. And it added a few new Spanglish words to my vocabulary!
Fierce beauty, fierce love. Love as redemption and rebellion. Natalia's writing is beautiful, thoughtful, evocative and whip-smart. I learned a lot (a lot) and was challenged in all the right ways. This story will stay with me.
‘Reading teaches us to think critically and as a collective, and to love, love, love, and those things are always the first casualties in every crime against humanity,’ he says.
This is from chapter 12. Chula and her lover Nacho are burying contraband books in their backyard, as tanks roll through city streets in Uruguay at the start of the 1973 civic-military coup. Los milicos are arresting people, disappearing them, radio stations announce lists of wanted rebels, and leftist books are dangerous to own. Their precious books are placed in a waterproof can, buried, with a small jacaranda tree planted on top.
This is a beautiful, multi-generational story about three Uruguayan women – Chula who stayed in Uruguay, Grachu who migrated to Australia, and Rita who was born in Sydney. It’s about how these women reconcile the past and the present, how colonisation, oppression, and poverty shape their lives, their resistance and resilience, and the many intriguing facets of love.
It begins in Fairfield. Clever, imaginative Grachu is a single mother who works as a cleaner in a Bellevue Hill mansion. The story shifts back and forth in time and place, with intellectual, political and literary commentary interwoven with different languages and evocative descriptions. I learned a lot about the 500-year colonisation of Uruguay by European nations, the terror of the military rule (1973-85), and the ways that the indigenous people resist, and preserve their traditions and culture.
It's a big story, intimately told. The author addresses the reader directly and you feel like you’re sitting at the table drinking el mate, eating juicy empanadas, breathing in the damp, verdant lushness and beauty of Uruguay. I especially connected with Rita. She’s on a journey interrogating her own assumptions and this compels you to interrogate yourself.
I felt a strange relief watching her respond to the footage of Gaza on her phone. I’ve seen what she sees, her despair, horror and grief are mine. My relief is because the novel acknowledged what is happening in Palestine. After Covid, on podcasts, you’d hear authors debating whether to mention Covid in their books. Is it too soon? Will people want to read about it? This generation of writers will have to decide what to say about the genocide in their work – to say nothing, is telling in itself. From Uruguay to Palestine to Australia, colonisation and its legacies are connected.
Hailstones Fell Without Rain is an enthralling, tender and timely novel is about the importance of hope, with love being an essential ingredient.
Rita wears a t-shirt with bel hooks’ lines: ‘Love is not just feeling. Love is an action.’ Those lines encapsulate this novel. It is a vibrant fusion of poetic prose, history and politics, humour and beauty, tied together through the stories of several fascinating women.
Not for me. I really did try to like it! Written in 3 sections and I only made it half way through the second before I gave up. The first section focused on Grachu living in Sydney. I found the very liberal use of Spanish limited my understanding of characters (several times people responded in Spanish and I had no idea what they said so couldn't figure out what was happening). And some of the scenes just felt wrong - Grachu gets a job as cleaner for an ultra wealthy clothes designer who is obsessively neat and clean. At the end of her being shown around he asks if she can make empanadas - when she says yes he asks her to make some for his lunch and miraculously all the ingredients happen to be there in his kitchen. The second section was earlier back in Uruguay and seemed more focused on giving the reader an understanding of conditions there in the 1970s than building characters and a plot.
Reading this book filled a space in my heart I didn't know I had. A space that was filled with a familiar story that could of been of most first gen South American girls who grew up in the area. The need to find balance between the home your parents picked for you and a far away land that felt like home but you only knew in stories and photos. In this book I saw myself, mis hermanas, mis amigas, mi abuela y mi mamá. Thank you for giving us all a voice.
I liked that it is a family story. I found the foreign language included was hard going because I didn’t understand it and had to make meaning around these words.