A Conversation with Alberto Fuguet – At El Pais With My Question

El Pais had one of their “Chats with the author” events where you can submit a question and the author may answer it. So far I’ve had my questions answered both times I’ve done it. Some of the questions are about his film work, but many are about his recent book Missing: an Investigation. Below is my rather technical one to try and understand the process he went through to create the book.

¿Cuantos conversaciones tenías con Carlos sobre su vida al escribir esta obra? Los detalles son impresionantes y partes como la noche entre Carlos y el marinero son muy emotivas. A mí me llama la atención este poder de dibujar su vida aunque no pudiste entrevistarle como querrías.

tuve hartas— y esas conversaciones q no son conversaciones sino comentarios al pasar.. lo de la grabadora, fue fatal… no resulto… la parte a q te refieres, al poema como le dicen, carlos talks, creo q se llama, se hizo de una curiosa: le envie como 1500 preguntas en, no se, 70 a 100 mails, y fui armando una cronlogia-biografia. Asi tenia miles de detalles. Pero “secos”. Onda– te has intentado matarte? y decia, una vez.. nada mas: luego yo: donde, como,… y luego te decia, me salvo un marinero… etc y yo luego fui rellenando los detalles q no existian y tratando de pensar q sentiria uno, no se, cdo roba un auto o cdo sales de prision etc creo q nada es capaz de contar tantos detalles o sensaciones– las sensaciones se sienten intensamente en el momento y luego se olvidan— literariamente se pueden reproducir

Texas Tech’s The Americas Series – More books from Spanish and Portuguese

Three Percent had an excellent post about Texas Tech’s The Americas Series. Among the highlights that Three Percent noted, Lucia Puenzo’ The Fist Child is available. She is one of the Granta youngsters. You can read about her story in the Granta volume at Imagined Icebergs.

On reading the Texas Tech catalog a couple books caught my eye that aren’t in the Three Percent post. First, is Breathing in Dust, which is the story of a boy growing up as a migrant farm worker.

Tim Z. Hernandez’s land of pain and plenty, his Catela, evokes the essence of the migrant underclass experience. But more, his stories take us there, into the streets and into the groves, into the back rooms of the carnicerias and the panaderias, onto the tracks, onto the thirsty highways, in scenes that unfold with graphic, breathtaking honesty.

Next was Chango, the Biggest Badass:

Among the African pantheon of the Orichas—deities and messengers often inscrutable to the Western mind—stands Changó, god of fire, war, and thunder. In Manuel Zapata Olivella’s four-hundred-year epic of the African American experience, first published in 1983 as Changó, el gran putas, Changó both curses the muntu—the people—for betraying their own kind and challenges them to liberate not only themselves but all of humanity.

In luminous verse and prose, Zapata Olivella conveys the breadth of heroism, betrayal, and suffering common to the history of people of African descent in the Western hemisphere. Ranging from Brazil to New England but primarily turning his wrath on the Caribbean centers of the slave trade, Changó inhabits personas as diverse as Benkos Biojo, Henri Christophe, Simón Bolívar, José María Morelos, the Aleijadinho, Marcus Garvey, and Malcolm X. His message is one of vengeance, but also one of hope.

And finally, The Last Reader from the Mexican author David Toscana

In tiny Icamole, an almost deserted village in Mexico’s desert north, the librarian, Lucio, is also the village’s only reader. Though it has not rained for a year in Icamole, when Lucio’s son Remigio draws the body of a thirteen-year-old girl from his well, floodgates open on dark possibility. Strangely enamored of the dead girl’s beauty and fearing implication, Remigio turns desperately to his father. Persuading his son to bury the body, Lucio baptizes the girl Babette, after the heroine of a favorite novel. Is Lucio the keeper of too many stories? As police begin to investigate, has he lost his footing? Or do revelation and resolution lie with other characters and plots from his library? Toscana displays brilliant mastery of the novel—in all its elements—as Lucio keeps every last reader guessing.

Grant Young Novelists Coming to Seattle May 2011: Barba, Montes, Olmos

The young Granta novelists Andres Barba, Javier Montes, and Alberto Olmos will be coming to Seattle in May. It looks like they’ll be having some sort of conversation since David Guterson is going to be hosting. All I know so far is below:

May 15; Granta 113 The Best of Young Spanish Novelists with ANDRÉS BARBA, JAVIER MONTES, and ALBERTO OLMOS of Spain, hosted by DAVID GUTERSON,

Mexican Narco Literature Overview at La Jornada

The Sunday supplement of La Jornada has an interesting overview of narco literature in Mexico. Unfortunately, the books mentioned reflect a Mexico that has become more violent in areas where drugs and corruption have taken over. Worse, the author notes, is that Mexican’s have lost their ability to be shocked by these events and their representation in fiction.  I imagine we will be seeing more of these books in English after the success of Black Minutes.

En 2002, Eduardo Antonio Parra se da a conocer como novelista con Nostalgia de la sombra. En esta obra se presenta a un protagonista, Ramiro Mendoza, quien se desempeña como gatillero a sueldo. La violencia y el ambiente del norte del país son desoladores; todos los escenarios recorridos por el protagonista se revelan entre un ambiente de rareza y precaución. El miedo es una constante entre los ciudadanos y los propios sicarios; todos desconfían de todos. Lo más trágico es que convertirse en sicario o gatillero a sueldo significa un trabajo como cualquier otro, a la vez que supone estar al lado del poder empresarial y delictivo –ya no el de las instituciones–, ya sea para protegerse o luchar contra él. En la novela de Parra, espacios como Tijuana, Monterrey, Sinaloa y el Río Bravo se advierten como lugares asfixiantes de peligro y disputa. En la obra hay constantes alusiones a la música de los narcocorridos, que son la épica a través de la cual se dan valor los que ingresan a la delincuencia, pues se cuentan sus hazañas, pasiones y traiciones. Ramiro conoce o se reencuentra con una serie de personajes que igual que él también están condenados. Él ha sido contratado para asesinar a una ejecutiva de bolsa; sin embargo, el protagonista no advierte que también está lleno de miedos y que no puede reconocerse a través de una apariencia física que se ha construido para no levantar sospechas. Ingresar al mundo de los gatilleros significa renunciar a una identidad, ser un sujeto clandestino en donde la ley predominante es la de la violencia, aunque sabe que puede sucumbir, pues el poder también significa traición.

[…]

Un año después, Rafael Ramírez Heredia publica La Mara, obra de gran factura literaria que muestra la tragedia de hombres y mujeres anónimos centroamericanos en su periplo por llegar a Estados Unidos. La novela se erige como la voz de las mujeres violadas, los hombres mutilados por el tren, los jóvenes robados, secuestrados y extorsionados por los mareros y los policías. La historia de esta novela se conecta con temas de la historiografía centroamericana del siglo xx, como la guerrilla centroamericana y las guerras civiles en Honduras y Guatemala, que dejaron cientos de niños huérfanos que al llegar a la edad adulta la única opción que tienen es la de en-rolarse en el crimen. Lo que el discurso de la novela afirma es la condición trágica de los mareros y su encono social, su estatus de parias criminales como forma de vida.

Pero la narrativa mexicana también se ha ocupado del tema de los migrantes mexicanos de manera frecuente. Una de las recientes novelas es Welcome coyote (2008) de Ulises Morales Ponce, mención en el Premio Latinoamericano de Primera Novela Sergio Galindo. Si en algunos texto de autores como Juan Rulfo se sostiene el vocablo de “bracero”, que significa ir a Estados Unidos a trabajar de manera temporal en labores principalmente del campo, con el paso de las décadas esta condición se criminaliza y se habla de ilegal, lo que supone la construcción de un aparato de corrupción donde la presencia de los polleros enfatiza la tragedia de los que cruzan la frontera. En esta novela se narran las peripecias de Mariano, un campesino oaxaqueño que abandona a los suyos frente a la miseria familiar. Más que la historia de este hombre, la novela ambienta una tragedia colectiva en donde ya no existen límites entre el crimen y la dignidad por la vida de una persona a la que se le criminaliza por ilegal.

[…]

La lista de obras esbozadas es muy breve y arbitraria por cuestiones de espacio. Los lectores, insisto, hemos perdido la capacidad de asombro que, paradójicamente, se revela en un corpus de obras cuya naturaleza se sustenta en un trabajo de elaboración ficcional que, dicho sea de paso, resulta un recurso en pugna con una realidad mexicana insostenible, producto de la negligencia y corrupción de los gobiernos. La narrativa ofrece esa visión trágica de un país sumido en la tragedia y cuyos responsables son la clase política y su deuda histórica con el pueblo. Cabe preguntarse, ¿cuál es la recepción de obras como éstas dentro del panorama internacional? El secuestro y masacre de setenta y dos migrantes centroamericanos en agosto pasado en Tamaulipas –más los hallados recientemente–, verifica la tragedia cotidiana, por eso revisar la narrativa mexicana reciente supone un ejercicio crítico y la posibilidad de repensar el valor de la dignidad y la vida misma más allá de las fronteras nacionales.

Jorge Volpi and Rosa Montero on El Publico Lee

Jorge Volpi and Rosa Montero on El Publico Lee this month. I haven’t watched the Montero, but the Volpi was quite interesting and the “public” had some good questions (the show varies in quality based on the quality of the public). Volpi has recently republished three early novellas, which to my ears, sound a little more interesting than his more political works. I didn’t like Season of Ash too much as my review can attest. You can watch the shows here.

New Spanish Language Fiction of Note for Spring

El Pais has a two post overview of the new and noteworthy books of spring. There are some big names, probably the most famous is Javier Marias and Jorge Volpi who has had three early novellas reissued by Paginas de Espuma, and Alejandro Zambra. An authors of note not available in English of note is Rosa Montero with her book Lágrimas en la lluvia (link to El Pais). I don’t recognize many of the other authors but a few sound interesting. Read the posts here and here.

This one caught my eye, mostly because I can’t seem to get enough of short stories these days.

Cuentos rusos (Mondadori), de Francesc Seres (Zaidin, España, 1972). En 2008  obtuvo con el libro de cuentos La fuerza de la gravedad  varios premios. La traducción al español de este nuevo título también viene precedida de premios importantes en Cataluña. Me remito a un pasaje de la crítica de Lluis Satorras en Babelia: “Es uno de sus mejores libros que se compone de historias cortas pero posee una unidad fundamental, una estructura muy definida, como un raudo travelling hacia el pasado mediante la lectura de unos cuentos de supuestos autores rusos, de ahora y de muchos antes. Para dar fuste a sus propósitos, el autor construye una maquinaria precisa aunque ligera, un par de prólogos, uno de la supuesta traductora y antóloga rusa, espejo en el que se miran los relatos que vendrán a continuación, y otro del propio Serés, testimonio vital y entusiasta. Y no faltan las falsas biografías de los supuestos autores, un procedimiento ya bien arraigado en nuestras literaturas. Todo ello proporciona un plus de verosimilitud al conjunto y casi podemos creernos que estamos leyendo una pequeña historia de la literatura rusa”.

Audio of Short Story from Hipólito G Navarro

Literatura Sonra has a reading of Hipólito G Navarro’s short story Sucedáneo: pez volador. It is from his collection El aburrimiento, Lester which I’m actually working through right now. He is not the author reading it, but it is worth a listen if you understand Spanish. (via)

New Online Venue for Arabic Literature, Reports Arab Lit

The blog Arab Lit in English reports there is going to be a new online venue for Arabic Literature from Jadaliyya. 

The site has had “culture” all along, and has featured a few a translations and reviews. But the new section promises weekly updates, and:

an open space for creative, original, and critical texts about culture(s) in Arabic and English. We seek to support cultural expression in a wide variety of sites and contexts, media and genres.

The first issue includes some fiction. Definitely worth a look.

My Review of The Selected Stories of Mercè Rodoreda up at Asymptote Journal

My review of The Selected Stories of Mercè Rodoreda has been published by Asymptote Journal. I liked the stories quite a bit. I’ll let my review speak for itself:

The Selected Stories of Mercè Rodoreda are a fascinating mix of personal disappointment and the darkly allegorical, stories that capture the precise moment when longing becomes futile and self-destructive. Living through a troubled romance in her early years then later fleeing into exile and poverty at the end of the Spanish Civil War, Rodereda’s work reflects those turbulent moments and the disillusion that stems from them. Her stories
look inward, whether in disappointment with a cheating husband, or through grief, both expressed in rich allegorical language. It is the power to catch these moments, the spark of failure or the last legacy of something good, that makes her a rich story teller.

Short Story from Juan Carlos Márquez at Revista de Letras

Revista de Letras has another interesting short story and interview from the Spanish writer Juan Carlos Márquez. The story is more interesting than the interview because he is one of those terse writers who is more interested in writing than talking about writing. The story, on the other hand, was fun, a surrealistic story of a man whose heart falls out of his body one day and the changes that brings on the family, especially when the heart is the locus of all feeling.

Ese día mi padre apareció en el umbral de nuestra casa con el corazón en un puño.

—Se me ha caído ahora mismo, hijos, pero aún late. Llamad aprisa a vuestra madre.

Ismael salió corriendo a avisar a mamá, que en ese momento estaba tendiendo la ropa con una pinza en una mano y otra entre los labios. Yo tomé la mano libre de papá entre las mías, como solemos hacer las mujeres, hasta que llegó mamá. Traía consigo un cubo y una fregona.

—Dios santo, pero qué te ha pasado.
—Ha sido en el ascensor, me he agachado un momento para anudarme los cordones y lo he visto caer, como un pájaro muerto.

Spanish Writers Profiled at the CBC – Cercas, Najat El Hachmi

The CBC is doing a week long series on writing in Spain and will be featuring an interview with Javier Cercas in English on the program Writers and Company.

Franco’s Ghosts: The Remaking of Spain is a new five-part series starting April 17 on Writers & Company. This week, Eleanor Wachtel takes us behind the scenes and shares her impressions on a country haunted by history.

In her article about the series she mentions the writer Najat El Hachmi who she met. I have actually seen her interviewed on El publico lee a few years ago. It was an interesting interview because she said something like she was illiterate until 1o or something like that. It is a little vague at this point, but it struck me as impressive that now she was a writer.

The influence of new immigrant communities marks another dramatic change. I talk to the Moroccan-born writer Najat El Hachmi, whose novel The Last Patriarch was a bestseller and won the most prestigious Catalan literary prize. Her book has been translated into all the major European languages and also won the Prix Ulysse in France. But she continues to write and publish in Catalan. She describes how at family dinners, she speaks to her mother in their Berber language, to her son in Catalan and to her siblings in Spanish. And we have trouble with French?

Javier Cercas Talking His Writing and Borges on Nostromo

For all of you Javier Cercas fans out there who speak Spanish, Nostromo has an hour long interview with the author. It is an excellent interview where they cover in depth 3 of his books, Anatomy of a Moment, Soldiers of Salamina, and a third one I can’t remember. Cercas and the interviewer also have an interesting discussion about Borges and Bioy Casares. Their take on the Invention of Morel was a little different than I have come across. All in all it was a great interview and Cercas seemed quite animated. I saw him on El Publico Lee some time ago and he seemed like he couldn’t be bothered to answer the questions. I will say if your Spanish is a little week he can be a bit of a challenge as he talks quite rapid.

Guardian Podcast on Spanish Writing

If you only read the articles form the Guardian about Spanish writers, you should give the podcast a try. I thought it was more interesting the articles, in part because Giles Tremlett hosts the Spanish portion and seemed a little more insightful than the articles were. I should have posed it a while ago, but I’m a little behind on my podcasts.

Blazing Combat – A Review of Banned War Comics

Blazing Combat
Fantagraphics Books, 210 pg
(Download a 3 story excerpt from the publisher)

I have a penchant for reading these things, especially if it was banned in some way or another as Blazing Combat was when it was published in 1966. Of course I wanted to see what would get it banned, but also how war is represented. Can something interesting be said in the comic form that hasn’t been said already. While I read with relish the works of Joe Sacco or Spiegelman’s Mouse, it has been a while since I’ve read a war comic that follows the more traditional format of a war comic: short vignettes about soldiers, usually with heavy interior monologues, noting the hardship but at the same time the purpose as something hideous, but necessary.

Perhaps half of the stories fall into that category: soldiers in combat fighting a surviving because that is what one does. Usually the tension is not about glory in a campaign, but about entering action as a cocky youngster and coming out a humbled survivor, or  a veteran doing what he has to do and hoping to survive once more, with the understanding that it is the enemy who cannot survive. While it is possible to inject a note of triumphalism that suggests glory is one’s goal, comics often, because of their lower profile, can question this more than movies (here I’m specifically thinking of films and comics between 1945 and 1980). Blazing Combat, to its credit, avoids that trap and there is seldom a note of triumphalism.  Instead, as the editor notes in the interview at the end of the book, it is more about soldiers talking to soldiers, the phenomenon I’ve noticed in survivor accounts where one does not dwell on the horrific, instead it is the shared experience, which the survivors know were horrific, that is the means of understanding. When I read the description of the book as banned for its anti war stance I thought I wouldn’t see anything that suggested dutiful ambivalence. But it is that shared expression that can have its own power. Unfortunately, too, it can come across as triumphal.

What got the book  banned, though, are the stories of futility that show nothing in war has any value. One story shows  takes place during the Spanish American War and shows two Americans are shown talking about how they can’t wait to see combat, which is juxtaposed with an American killing a Spaniard in hand to hand combat and walking away in horror. In another, the WWI British ace William Bishop is not noteworthy for his skill as a pilot. There were others such as the Red Barron who were as good and are remembered still to this day. What sets him apart is he survived the war. In other words, fame is pointless if you don’t survive. And in the most scandalous for the time, a story follows a Vietnamese villager who tries to save his land from an American patrol. The outcome does not make the Americans look good. It is especially prescient since it was written in 1965.

As a work of comic or social history it is interesting. As something to read and enjoy it is a little tedious. How many times can you read a five page story about a youngster learning the hard way what war is? If you want to see an approach to war in comic form that tried something different, this is your book. However, if you want entertainment (or great insight), not so much. But I think that its name says it all: Blazing Combat. Typically this has a connotation of excitement and adventure, and sometimes that bleeds into the stories, because it is difficult to create a war comic that even in its most nihilistic, is not partly about glory. If humans are capable of saying, Vive la Muerte (Long Live Death) as they did at the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War, it is possible to enjoy the action of Blazing Combat, even if the name is ironic.

I will say the art for a comic is actually quite interesting and shows and good range of styles, though it is still in the comic vein.

Open Letter Summer Catalog: Quim Monzo and Sergio Chejfec

I just got the Spring Open Letter catalog and was happy to see that a collection of short stories from Quim Monzo are going to be published in July and the following month My Two Worlds from Sergio Chejfec. I am especially looking forward to the Quim Monzo because I’ve heard so much about his short stories. I didn’t much like his book Gasoline, but am willing to give the stories a chance since this blog is turning into all things short story from Spain. I’m not familiar with Sergio Chejfec, but am looking forward to reading his book. You can read an excerpt of Monzo’s new book at Open Letter (as well as other books in the upcoming catalog). You can also read a story that Open Letter recently published called Books.

Lanza En Astillero (Don Quixote as Graphic Novel) – a Review

Lanza en astillero: El Caballero Don Quijote Y Otras Sus Tristes Figuras (Spanish Edition)

I bought this when I was in Spain in 2005 when it was also the 4ooth anniversary of  Don Quixote. I remember spending an hour perhaps in Madrid or Toledo looking at an exhibit of Don Quixote editions. There must have been a hundred of them: the first Spanish edition, the second, the first printed in Mexico, the first in English, etc. I enjoyed the experience. Part of the exhibition had included episodes from Don Quixote drawn by different artists, mostly Spanish. The drawings were interesting, so I bought it. And now I finally have read it.

Either you like Don Quixote or you don’t. I’m not going to talk about the Quixote other than to say in this edition there apparently no restriction on repeating the same episodes, which is a bit of a problem because it seems the artists only select the same few stories to illustrate and it gets a little repetitive. The art, on the other hand, is the important element here, what originally drew me to the book.I particularlly liked the use of the dark shadings of Luis Duran, the geometric forms of Esther Gili and the geometric and cross hatched work of Miguel Calatayud. Each of their works is interesting in its use of the cartoon form.

I can’t say much more, other than I should read the Quijote one day. And that it is impressive what an exhibition of books can move you to do.

 

Enrique Vila-Matas to Publish Two Books of Stories

El Pais hasan article on the two books of stories that Enrique Vila-Matas is going to publish this year. These are reprints of earlier works with prologues. Chet Baker is also a form of “critical fiction” that tries to explore literary criticism through fiction.

Se publican dos libros de Enrique Vila-Matas, dos antologías de novelas breves y relatos. Se titula el primero En un lugar solitario. Narrativa 1973- 1984 y el segundo Chet Baker piensa en su arte. Relatos selectos. La importancia de estos libros es doble. Por una parte nos permite volver a sus primeras novelas, una década de preparación en toda regla de su futura narrativa de madurez. También se nos da la oportunidad de releer sus relatos (he vuelto a leer ‘El hijo del columpio’, mezcla genial de folletín y Kafka, y no pude parar de reírme). Pero, además, cada uno de estos libros lleva un texto inédito. Para las novelas breves, el autor escribe uno a manera de prólogo. Es un texto autobiográfico donde se nos consignan aspectos relevantes de la biografía de Vila-Matas, diríamos del joven Vila-Matas, además de algunas consideraciones de naturaleza estrictamente literarias que ayudan a comprender la génesis de su producción narrativa. En el segundo libro hay un relato, ‘Chet Baker piensa en su arte’, escrito en primera persona y en el cual la voz narradora airea sus dudas metodológicas: es la voz de un crítico que busca en la espesa selva de las teorías literarias su propia idea de la literatura.

Detroit Disassembled: Photographs by Andrew Moore – A Review

Detroit Disassembled
Andrew Moore
Damiani/Akron Art Museum, 136 pg

Detroit Disassembled is a beautiful, if at times sad, book, a haunting legacy of a dying way of life. It is hard not to look at the photos of abandoned art deco theaters, old car plants, and schools with their desks still in them and not marvel at how a city can fall apart so throughly. And I suppose, depending on your outlook, you can see in the photos something natural—this is the way the world works—, inevitable—Americans got lazy, cocky, greedy or any other adjective that suggests its Detroit’s fault—, or sad that American greatness has passed. Aside from the implications that come from the photos in Detroit Disassembled and other similar books have begun to question what happens when a city dies, or to put it nicely, shrinks? The human cost is high, but in the end people can and do move on leaving behind the edifices of their dreams to others or nature as is the case with Detroit. What is so striking with Detroit is the quality of many of these buildings. Detroit once had money and ambition and some of these buildings, especially the art deco ones, would probably be considered treasures. But the lack of money leaves buildings like Michigan Central Station in ruins and to decay.

Moore also turns his camera to the human scale, the survivors, or those with no other options who are still living in the city. The photos of the young kids against the back drop of boarded up homes the image of lives without opportunity. One can wish the image was a photographer’s trick to create drama where there is none, but knowing Detroit one cannot help think, even though they don’t know the particulars, the photo is right. Even more awkward are the  photos of the elderly in their run down homes, hanging on to what is theirs even though it probably has little value. Looking at those images after the housing collapse is even more poignant, another example that nothing is permanent, even housing values.

The only thing that would have made the book any better would have been a few aerial shots of Detroit. But that would have turned the book into more than it is, the story of decay, the return of the land to the wild (just spend a little time with Google Maps and Street View). It has more than succeed in that goal.

Medardo Fraile Short Story and Interview – at Revista de Letras

Revista de Letras has an excellent interview with the short story writer Medardo Fraile and a pdf of one of his more famous short stories. He, as the interviewer points out, is of the same generation as Ana Maria Matute, and is one of the few still writing short stories. It is a good interview for a couple reasons: one he cites many authors worth reading (which I agree with); and it avoids some of the silly questions about short story writing that I often find, and instead, tries to give the read a way to enter his works, including asking the author what stories would be a good staring place. They do touch on the workshop phenomenon which is new to Spain. I think his take on the workshop as a place where new writers can feel they are not alone is spot on. The short story is probably 1500 words and has that economy that suggests whole lives but resists describing them and you walk away with a view of a life that you know, but are still uncertain because of the possibilities, which for me is the mark of something interesting (although, it can also lead to bad writing). (By the way, the story is at the bottom of interview. I missed it the first time)

(via sergibellver.blogspot.com)

Medardo Fraile (Madrid, 1925) es un referente ineludible en el cuento contemporáneo español y el eslabón del que parten varios de los mejores cuentistas de las últimas décadas. Cuentistas que, aun trabajando el relato desde diferentes estéticas, reconocen una deuda inequívoca con la literatura de Medardo Fraile. Aunque autores de la talla de Juan Eduardo Zúñiga o Ana María Matute mantienen también viva la voz de aquella generación del medio siglo, es el autor de Cuentos con algún amor (1954), Cuentos de verdad (1964) o Contrasombras (1998) quien mejor ha permitido encadenar una suerte de “linaje” con el cuento actual. Maestro literario y literal de cuentistas como Ángel Zapata o Víctor García Antón, contemporáneo de Ignacio Aldecoa y narrador de mirada afilada y lírica al tiempo. Este ciclo pretende dibujar el mapa del relato breve español hasta hoy y, por ello, no podía comenzar con otro cuentista que no fuera Medardo Fraile.

[…]

Leí en una entrevista reciente que te hizo el citado Ángel Zapata que “Quiero dormir”, de Chéjov, te parecía uno de los relatos más perturbadores que recordabas. ¿Qué cuento de todos los que has escrito crees que podría sorprender y conmover más a un lector que, a estas alturas, llegara por primera vez a cualquiera de tus libros? ¿Hay alguno que, a tu juicio, resuma tu poética personal con un efecto más claro?

Bueno, eso depende siempre del lector y sólo por haber escrito casi doscientos cuentos me atrevo a citarte catorce títulos y así habrá para todas las sensibilidades (perdóname): “Las personas mayores”, “Los encogidos”, “Punto final”, “Roque Macera”, “Perdónanos, Hermy”, “Episodio Nacional”, “El señorito”, “Crónica de la esperanza”, “De pronto (Celebración Ibérica)”, “La piedra”, “El sillón”, “Old man drive”, “Postrimerías”, “No hay prisa en abrir los ojos”… Lo de mi “poética personal” es para mí más difícil: ¿”El banco”, “Primeros pasos”? Quizá.

Ricardo Piglia Wins the Critics Prize + His Thourghts on Writing

Ricardo Piglia, has won the Premio de la Crítica, one of the more prestigious prizes in Spain for his novel Blanco nocturno (Anagrama, 2010). It is only his fourth novel, a little surprising given that he has been writing for years, but better a few good works than dozens of erratic works.

Blanco nocturno es la cuarta novela de Ricardo Piglia -nacido en 1940 en Adrogué, en la provincia de Buenos Aires- uno de los grandes nombres de la narrativa argentina de las últimas décadas. La obra galardonada vino precedida de una gran expectación dado que la anterior novela de Piglia se había publicado en 1997: Plata quemada, premio Planeta Argentina y adaptada al cine en 2000 por Marcelo Piñeyro con Leonardo Sbaraglia y Eduardo Noriega como protagonistas.

Piglia, que actualmente en profesor de literatura en la universidad estadounidense de Princeton, dirigió durante años una famosa Serie Negra que difundió en su país la obra de los clásicos modernos del género policiaco -de Hammett a Chandler-. No es pues extraño que muchas de sus obras mezclen la investigación de un crimen con las más penetrantes reflexiones sobre el hecho de narrar. “Se podría pensar que la novela policial es la gran forma ficcional de la crítica literaria”, afirmó en el libro de conversaciones Crítica y ficción (1986) para subrayar la relación entre las figuras del detective y el lector.

And in bonus commentary you can read about his thoughts on writing in Revista Ñ. I found his thoughts on short stories interesting, if a little odd for a writer of his caliber.

Mientras la ilusión mía con las novelas es que todas sean distintas, los primeros cuentos que he escrito en los años 60 y los que estoy escribiendo ahora son muy parecidos. Formalmente, quiero decir. Como si el cuento no fuera un espacio de experimentación como es la novela. Hay que pensar por qué pasa eso.

It is hard to get rid of a lifetime of habits I guess.