Twilight at the Equator
Publication Year: 2003
Colombian-born Santiago Martinez starts his adult life as a young gay writer living in Spain. Years later, as a university professor in New York City, Santiago is called back to his native Colombia upon the suicide of his sister. There he learns some shocking secrets about his childhood and adolescence and comes to the realization that cherished memories of the past are only illusion.
Published by: University of Wisconsin Press
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Most of the chapters were originally published in somewhat different form in the following publications: Men's Style: first half of "To Love in Madrid"; Callaloo: second half of "To Love in Madrid," under the title "Barcelona Hunger." Manoa: "The Documentary Artist." ...
1. To Love in Madrid
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I arrived in Madrid to become a poet. The year was 1976, and I was twenty-five years old. I had one friend in the city, Lulu Mercurio, a historian who was working on her doctoral dissertation. Lulu was a big, platinum-bleached curly-haired Andalusian who chainsmoked Camels using an elongated silver cigarette holder. ...
2. Papa's Corpse
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I've been dreaming all night, I don't remember exactly what. In any case, it was a long, uninterrupted dream, composed of several dreams, almost all of them related to my childhood, to open fields, blossoming trees, fiestas, rooms full of people; and I, in the midst of it all, gabbing away, saying witty things, happy at last; ...
3. The Documentary Artist
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I met Sebastian when he enrolled in one of my film-directing classes at the university where I teach. Soon after the semester started, he distinguished himself from the other students because he was very vocal about his love of horror movies. Our special intimacy started one afternoon when he burst into my office, ...
4. Twilight at the Equator
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My sister Rosita was dead. She had swallowed scores of Valiums and slashed her wrists. Her body had been found by her landlady in the room Rosita rented in Jackson Heights. The news of her death came at the end of the harshest winter in memory. I felt bad for Mother, who had died four years before, ...
5. The Day Carmen Maura Kissed Me
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I was on my way to the Algonquin Hotel to have a drink with my friend Luis whom I hadn't seen in several years. It was 4 P.M. in mid-June, and looking up the vertical canyons of midtown Manhattan, I saw a lead-colored, spooky mist engulfing the tops of the skyscrapers, threatening rain. ...
Publication Year: 2003