![Hugs and Cuddles](http://img.images-bn.com/static/redesign/srcs/images/grey-box.png?v11.9.4)
![Hugs and Cuddles](http://img.images-bn.com/static/redesign/srcs/images/grey-box.png?v11.9.4)
Paperback
-
PICK UP IN STORECheck Availability at Nearby Stores
Available within 2 business hours
Related collections and offers
Overview
The resulting novel is the late João Gilberto Noll’s most radical statement: A Book of Revelations-grade voyage to the end of gender and the outermost reaches of sexual and artistic expression. Nimbly translated from Portuguese by Edgar Garbelotto, Hugs and Cuddles is an unapologetically explicit fable of fluidity that takes readers from decaying city centers to the dark corridors of a mysterious submarine to a miserable hovel in the rainforest, where, at long last, our narrator finds peace.
Product Details
ISBN-13: | 9781949641387 |
---|---|
Publisher: | Two Lines Press |
Publication date: | 10/18/2022 |
Pages: | 240 |
Product dimensions: | 4.40(w) x 6.90(h) x 0.90(d) |
About the Author
Edgar Garbelotto is a writer and translator born in Brazil and based in the U.S. for the past 20 years. He is the translator of João Gilberto Noll’s Lord ((2019) and Harmada (2020), both published by Two Lines Press. His work has appeared in the Kenyon Review Online, Asymptote, Ninth Letter, Little Patuxent Review, and elsewhere. He holds an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Illinois. Terra Incognita, written in both Portuguese and English, is his debut novel.
Read an Excerpt
He never got married. And I never learned of any other woman travelling on his dark, almost hairless skin. At that time, my nocturnal circle of friends liked to praise the presumed delights of my engineer friend. He’s closeted, they’d say. We used to spend our evenings at the Torpedo Bar, owned by an Italian we all knew. The bar was located on Alfândega Square, a reasonably innocent square at the time. We considered ourselves to be what was then called “discreet.” I always liked that word, because it gave the idea of secret idylls—accessible only for the initiated—experienced underneath certain dawns. “Discreet” also referred to those who, in daylight, were seen as full-time macho men, some even married, beyond any suspicion. But in the underground hours, there they went, tasting the pot they so anxiously longed for. Everyone there was “discreet,” lovers and experts of their own bodies. And when we pronounced that word, we tasted audacity, bravery, and the opening of a universe full of agile subtleties, of mischievous filigrees, where we could experiment with erotic trends. There was a future in those circles. We all learned the art of cunning, so we could not only be accepted but also become the object of desire for the ineffable brotherhood. Anyway, now we’re staring at each other with some wisdom, without rush or excuses, beleaguered in the German submarine, this Second War’s junk of steel.