Customer Reviews

Adios Muchachos

5 star:		(3)
4 star:		(5)
3 star:		(4)
2 star:		(2)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

Of course it's pulp fiction. The huge majority of books published today are pulp fiction. And so what? The difference is that Adios Muchachos is WELL WRITTEN pulp fiction. I roared with laughter at the descriptions and at the nonesensical plot, and any book that can make me laugh is worth a good few stars.

Congratulations to Daniel Chavarria for writing a picaresque novel about a young lady whose aim in life is to please (in return for certain favours) without falling into the trap of writing pure pornography. I enjoyed the book, not only for the plot, but for the beauty of what was on the page. Chavarria covers many a 'sensitive' topic with a nod and a wink and a sentence structured in erotic innuendo. Brilliant.

Daniel Chavarria's Adios Muchachos is a fun little book exploring the world of prostitutes, unseemly businessmen and death in post-revolutionary Cuba. Uruguayan Daniel Chavarria seems mostly known for more literary work, but according to the bio on the inside flap he is said to have two passions: "classical literature and whores". Well, it shows.

Chavarria's main protagonist is Alicia, a high class prostitute who gets wealthy foreigners to buy her beautiful, expensive things so that she and her mother (a pre-revolutionary Cuban socialite) don't have to deal with the infirmities of life in Castro's Cuba. Alicia has an elaborate scam involving a bicycle accident that she works, along with her body, into an act of perfection. The precision timing is hilarious, as is the strategy her mother and her have worked out to squeeze the maximum sympathy out of their clueless (yet sexually aroused) victims. The crux of the story happens when Alicia's latest conquest, Victor, is not who he seems. Death and mayhem ensue.

The subject matter could easily be salacious, but Chavarria has a neat trick of using beautiful prose to describe people doing less-than-beautiful thing. He has a writing style that is simultaneously sophisticated, but not elitist. He's just telling a good story, and doing it in the best way possible.

Usually, a novel that splits right down the middle -- like a house divided against itself -- cannot stand. This one manages to, just barely. The first half is a raunchy romp with a Havana prostitute named Alicia, who manages to fall off her bicycle in an interesting way, and who strives to "trade up" toward a higher class of client. When she tangles with a shady international entrepreneur named Victor King, she finds her match until ...

Well, I shouldn't say what happens midway through the book, if only because it is so surprising and outlandish that it should be experienced without any lead-in. Suffice it to say that, quite suddenly, one finds oneself in a standard crime caper novel of the shaggy dog variety. The author's style metamorphoses into another genre, and the lovely Alicia is relegated to a subordinate role.

Only the ironic ending keeps me from downgrading the book to three stars. Daniel Chavarria obviously has talent as a writer, and has some of the juiciest sex scenes in recent literature, but he is no master of the genre. Paco Taibo, whose praise appears on the back, stands head and shoulders above him with his Hector Belascoaran Shayne novels. Yet I suspect that Chavarria is still young and has room to grow, and I look forward to reading his other works.

This punchy little bit of pulp crime follows the schemes of Alicia, a Cuban prostitute looking to rope a millionaire husband, and Victor, a bank-robber turned executive in Dutch conglomerate. The two gold-diggers meet and forge a mutually beneficial arrangement based on her providing live sex shows for him and his wife. Their partnership takes on a new dimension when a Dutch millionaire dies, and they figure out a plan to make a cool $4 million out of it. While Chavarria is reputedly a scholar of prostitution, Alicia's character comes as more of a Hollywood construct than a real person. She's the independent hooker who loves sex, is strictly upscale, and is always in control of her rich men. She's only in it to rope a wealthy husband who will take her and her mother (who is her practical assistant) out of the country. Let's be clear, this is pulp, not noir; the book is lively and farcical, the story flows with many a nod and a wink, with none of the nastiness and evil characterized by noir. And although the book is set in Havana, the setting doesn't figure very prominently, one gets the impression the story could have taken place in any large city in the world. The book is fast-paced, full of explicit sex, and ends with the requisite twist-and is fun, though unlikely to be all that memorable.

Alicia is a bicycle prostitute in Havana. She dresses in shorts and wiggles her butt as she pumps her pedals. One pedal is rigged to fall off, allowing her to tumble in front of the foreign men she seeks as customers. When one helps her up, she persuades him to give her a ride home where her mother makes dinner. The mother then leaves while Alicia seduces the man. Pretending to be too proud to accept money from him, she instead accepts gifts of air conditioners and motor scooters, which she stores in the garage until mother sells them. Because Alicia's wiggling butt is irresistible, she is confident that sooner or later the right man will fall in love with her -- the right man being the one who meets her high standards of wealth and virility.

From this premise, written in prose that borders on hilarity, Daniel Chavvaria crafts a novel that is more a comedy than a mystery -- and a very funny comedy it is. Alicia is hired to have sex with men while a couple watch from behind a mirror. The arrangement leads to prosperity for Alicia, but unfortunate circumstances involve her in what seems to be a kidnapping scheme that goes awry. Alicia maintains her cheery self-confidence throughout the novel, an attribute that makes her a very likable character. The phrase "wickedly funny" could have been invented to describe this book. It isn't deep, it isn't a traditional mystery, but it's loads of fun.

It seems like every year the Edgar committees nominate one book that is so unusual that it stands out amongst the usual fare. Sometimes these books are excellent and would otherwise have remained undiscovered. For example, immediately comes to mind OUTCAST by Jose Latour, which was first published in English by the same publisher as this book. ADIOS MUCHACHOS is a black comedy that also could be considered a noir fiction. Characters are quite wacky and the plot extremely clever.

In Havana, Cuba, Alicia literally pedals her wares as a bicycle hooker. However, she isnt simply out for money. She views each client as a prospective ticket out of her poverty-laden life via marriage or a long-term commitment. With the help of her pragmatic mother, Margarita, she seduces her johns with food and drink prior to their sampling of her sexual wares. Into this set up wanders her latest john, Victor King. Victor is involved in hunting for treasures on shipwrecks around the island. The people backing him are extremely wealthy. At first Victor uses Alicia for his own purposes. Later he proposes using her for his plan entailing voyeurism. However, a very unfortunate accident might possibly, with a bit of scheming, leave Alicia and Victor extremely wealthy. The question is, can they pull it off by outwitting the wealthy backers?

The rampant descriptions of blatant sex would preclude placing this book among the ranks of the cozies. For those who enjoy hard edged humor, this book will very well fit the bill. The characters, all despicable creations are a pure delight. In spite of their immorality, the reader will find them quite sympathetic. Interest never wanes as the reader roots for Victor and Alicia to succeed in their deception. The book never tries to be a social commentary in that the living conditions in Havana never plays a central role. ADIOS MUCHACHOS is a definite winner and is my pick as the best of the paperback original nominees. However, I really dont think it will win in that it is too unconventional.

I'm only 1/3 of the way through this but already I know that I'll be buying this for lots of friends. Simply outstanding. There are no great shakes here but as a book to simply amuse and enjoy it can't be beat. Adios Muchachos is so well writen that I have lost all desire to look for deep meaning. It's that rare book that can be simply enjoyed just for the craft that is displayed. Lots of laughs everywhere and quite informative if I'm ever looking for a hooker in Havana. ;-)

I'm looking forward to trying something else from Daniel Chavarria and I feel very sorry for all the folks who gave this book only 1 or 2 stars. I suspect they were offended by some of the setting.

Amazon should enforce a policy of refusing reviews by those who admit they have not actually read the whole book. Indeed, the link to the review page states: "I have read this book, and I want to review it." I'm referring in particular to the person who has read only 1/3 of this book yet gives it five stars. On what basis? The first half of this book is simply a setup for what becomes in the second half an ordinary crime caper. The two sections are glued together in the center with incredibly stilted dialogue explaining what's going on, and most of the action throughout is implausible. The ending ties things up so neatly and pleasantly that it is clear the author lacks the tough edge demanded by the genre.

Chavarría, we are told on the back cover, spends half of the year in his native Uruguay and half in Italy. Where does Cuba fit into this equation? I suggest hardly at all. The novel gives no real hint of its surroundings and could easily have been written by someone who has never visited the island. If you want true noirs with local Cuban color, try the excellent José Latour. His "Outcast" has already been published in the U.S. to great acclaim, and his "Havana Best Friends" recently appeared in England. The latter, while also a crime caper, has a dozen believable and well drawn characters, whereas "Adios Muchachos" has only a few caricatures for characters.

Of course, if you really want to experience life in Cuba vicariously, try "Dirty Havana Trilogy," by Pedro Juan Gutiérrez. It is harrowing, brutal, and disgusting, but it is one of the most powerful and absorbing novels to be published in the last few years.

Humour abounds in the Uruguayan-Cuban author Daniel Chavarría's Adios Muchachos: a rollicking dissection of Cuban life, where years of Communism have only served to drive the capitalist fervour of the masses to feverish pitch, and materialism rules above all. Unlike the corruption and drug-addled misery limned in Leonardo Padura's Havana series, Chavarría's book is far too good-humoured. It is also a sexy romp with the pneumatic bottom of the wondrously bright and beautiful Alicia running riot, trying to ensnare rich foreigners who might then take her away to their own rich lands where she could lead a life of luxury. Her modus operandi is to ride her bike, wiggling her alluring bottom to attract a rich man in a fancy car, and then falling spectacularly before the sucker, prompting him to come to her rescue. Her mother aids and abets her schemes, providing fancy food and culture to the man, causing him to get more and more besotted by Alicia. Unfortunately, Alicia then falls in with a Canadian ex-con whom she mistakes for her latest wealthy conquest. He is leading a double-life himself, trying to persuade a multinational corporation to fund marine archaeology (to make money out of selling salvaged treasure) while also hiding his less than salubrious past from his employers. An accidental death sparks panic in Alicia and Victor, but also hands them possibility to make large amounts of money, and at this point, Chavarría's grip over the plot begins to loosen, and confusion takes over. In the classic manoeuvre of the author who's lost interest in the proceedings, there's a final roundup of what happens in the subsequent lives of the various characters. I've often wondered what purpose such a roundup serves: it's as though the story somehow were unable to close by itself, and so an artificial conclusion is forced on the reader. Still, a decent read for a lazy afternoon.

Chavarria is no Dashiel Hammett. Nor is he a Reinaldo Arenas . . .and 'tho he shares Pedro Juan Gutierrez's (Dirty Havana Trilogy) appreciation of the consolations of tropical sexuality, he's not nearly as monomaniacal as Gutierrez, preferring instead to chain his erotics to a fast-paced and intriguing mystery plot. Set in contemporary Cuba, a nation desperate to modernize by delicately balancing the fruits of European and Latin American capital against the achievements of the Cuban Revolution, Adios Muchachos exploits that most typical setting where foreigner and native meet in Cuba - - the sexualized body of the Cuban woman. Chavarria's heroine possesses the most perfect "culo" in Havan, and like the enterprising jineteros or hustlers who sustain a dynamic entrepeneurial culture under the noses of the Revolution's guards, she deploys that asset to pull herself into the tourist economy and its prized dollars. When Cuban sexuality and ingenuity meet European libidos on a long leash from home - - the result is a whirlwind of disguise, counterplotting, and subterfuge. Buried within Adios Muchacho is a kind of charming allegory about the everyday power of the Cuban people to foil the return of postmodern, neo-liberal imperialists. A fun read.