Women of the world: Uruguayan author Fernanda Trías’ masterclass in the disturbed

No book has ever stuck with me like Uruguayan author Fernanda Trías’ debut novel The Rooftop (La Azotea). Claustrophobic and concise, the 112 pages of this novella slowly trap not just our protagonists within the walls of their decaying apartment, but the reader as well. Trías is an expert in the intense, a master of the disturbed, and her portrait of a mother’s descent into madness is nothing short of incredible.

Published in English in 2021, Trías’ debut follows Clara, a pregnant woman attempting to protect her family from the outside threats she perceives that they are facing. Paranoia begins to consume her as she contains more and more of herself within her small Uruguayan flat. Her only company is her ailing father and the canary that is caged next to his bed. She goes out sparingly, her only interaction with outside coming through her nosy neighbour Carmen, who delivers shopping and news to our protagonist.

Unintentionally unreliable, Clara‘s paranoia inevitably seeps into the novel’s narration, with the supposed threats she faces becoming less and less believable to the reader. While not explicit, it is important to note that Clara’s narration brings up some potentially triggering topics, specifically surrounding family and bereavement. Despite the disturbing nature of these topics, Trías handles them with care and tact, not playing them off for cheap shocks, but with a deep sympathy for the woman experiencing them.

The eponymous rooftop is Clara’s only sense of respite, allowing her to look out at the outside world she fears so greatly. Acting as an almost liminal space between the outside world and the confines of the flat, Clara seeks refuge in this place of purgatory. Though, she is never quite able to cross this boundary, and the rooftop remains symbolic of her fears.

The dream provided by the rooftop is truly killed with the arrival of her child

The dream provided by the rooftop is truly killed with the arrival of her child, Flor, halfway through the novel. Flor’s arrival only intensifies Clara’s madness, with her cutting ties with Carmen and never leaving the flat that now crumbles around her. The novel is tighter, more claustrophobic, and more intense than before, with Clara’s narration becoming less trustworthy by the page. Her flat mirrors her progressively declining mental health, with her surroundings crumbling beyond recognition, as Clara slips further and further away. “The world is this house” Clara tells her father, and there is nothing anyone can do to stop this world from falling in on them as we reach our tragic conclusion.

The Rooftop shines as a book that knows where the line is; not only is it concise, at a swift 112 pages, but it is subtle, not overbearing in its portrayal of Clara’s ordeal. Trías draws on her own experiences growing up in Montevideo, Uruguay, not just in The Rooftop, but across all her works. Born in 1976 in Uruguay, Trías has been widely praised and awarded for her depictions of Latin America. She has been awarded the National Uruguayan Literature Prize, amongst many others, and her works are beginning to be translated into over 15 languages.

Trías consistently explores themes of death, womanhood and loss, all through the lens of contemporary Latin America

Trías consistently explores themes of death, womanhood and loss, all through the lens of contemporary Latin America. These ideas are further explored in her most recent novel Pink Slime. While a long way away from the claustrophobic flat in The Rooftop, Pink Slime is recognisably Trías’ work. She writes as an unnamed narrator in a port city, in the grips of a disastrous ecological crisis, leaving most of the city abandoned. Once again, Trías masterfully offers reflections on motherhood and loss, against the backdrop of a decaying world.

Fernanda Trías provides a new and nuanced look at taboo topics not just in her powerhouse of a debut The Rooftop, but across all her work. Drawing on her experiences in her home country of Uruguay, her perspective is refreshing, allowing readers to truly step into new worlds. Thanks to new translations, her work is also becoming ever more accessible to non-Spanish speakers. As a result, Fernanda Trías is my pick for a Uruguayan author, with her hauntingly disturbed narratives and poignant reflections on the lives and roles of women, truly offering a unique reading experience.