Pretend You’re Dead and I Carry You

Delgado Lopera (Fiebre Tropical) dives into Colombia’s taboo queer culture in this scintillating narrative of a man torn between belonging and self-expression. Growing up in the small town of Ebaguí, Ignacio dominates on the soccer field but also longs to be glamorous like his neighbor Lucrecia, so much so that he wants to “unzip Lucrecia’s face and try it on.” Living under the rule of his alcoholic and physically abusive father, Ignacio takes refuge in secretly swimming naked with Lucrecia’s son, Felipe, and tying his soccer jersey on his head, pretending it’s long hair like Lucrecia’s—something he’s seen men get beat up over. As a young man in Bogotá, Ignacio meets Mamadora Eléctrica, a travesti, at a queer nightclub, and she becomes a mother figure to him. In the present, Ignacio raises a teen daughter, Valentina, and mourns the death of his wife, Alma. To Valentina, he looks like a “mummified bird,” lounging around the house in his flimsy pink robes, dangling earrings, and colorful rosaries, having lost his job at a bank due to frequent absences and drunkenness at work. Meanwhile, Valentina pieces together the story of Alma, who was said to have “popped pills like candy” while Ignacio had affairs with men. The author’s turns of phrase are striking and indelible, and the characters are deeply and lovingly portrayed, including Mamadora, who looks out for the lonely Valentina, helping with her homework and making sure her disapproving aunt doesn’t try to separate her from Ignacio. It’s exquisite. Agent: Kent D. Wolf, Neon Literary. (May)