Revolution Sunday is a complicated book, and a challenging one. It mixes poetry and prose, autofiction and hyperrealism, intense sensory detail and complete logistical vagueness. It has a plot, but not one that provides much momentum, or even meaning ... Achy Obejas does an exceptional job translating Revolution Sunday, especially as the novel turns inward. Her English prose is as intense and reckless as Cleo's Havana. In a less confident translator's hands, Cleo would lie flat on the page. Thanks to Obejas, she shimmers with life ... Revolutionary Sunday is a dirty novel, full of corruption, deception and betrayal. Guerra is a fearless writer, and she's lucky to have a fearless translator. Together, they make Revolution Sunday more vivid than life.
Genre-defying ... Achy Obejas’s translation deftly reproduces the searing and ethereal quality of Guerra’s voice, one that is ultimately in pursuit of liberation from the confines of politics and fear. Revolution Sunday transits between alienation and globalization, state surveillance and private rendezvous, Hollywood fantasies, and everyday life—in the process, Guerra writes a world where there is no escape from the potency of her poetics.
The reader barely has a chance to breathe in this riveting, poetic, fever dream of a novel that tackles the unmooring of a character beset by betrayal ... Like the diarist Anaïs Nin, who Guerra admires, the intensely personal is just that, a searing first-person account that is meant to connect one soul directly to another.